American Way Farm: Go Ahead, Make Our Day!

Monday, August 17, 2009

Go Ahead, Make Our Day!

Dirty Harry's got nothing on these fellas.

This weekend, the backyard turned into a makeshift shooting range (because what else is a farm for if not a little old-fashioned target practice?). Jim’s oldest son, James, came to visit with our granddaughter Riley in tow. It wasn’t long before the menfolk seized the opportunity for some much-needed man time—translation: making loud noises, comparing firearms, and pretending they weren’t melting in the summer heat.

Lined up in the picture like a testosterone-fueled Mount Rushmore are, from left to right: 16-year-old Nate (our grandson who lives with us), James, and my husband Jim, looking every bit like a crew ready to defend the homestead from rogue soda cans and the occasional paper target.

And Riley? You may ask where she was while the guys were out channeling their inner Clint Eastwood. That gal was doing it right—curled up on the couch in the blessed air conditioning, living her best life and wisely avoiding the bugs, sweat, and bravado.

Now that’s my kind of smart.

1 comment:

An English Shepherd said...: Great 'shot'.

We don't have personal pistols over here as its a bit different 'bearing arms' in the UK!

Wizz :-); August 17, 2009 at 6:36 PM

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When my husband, Jim, and I moved from southern New Hampshire to way, way up north in the fall of 2001, we thought we were just “getting away from it all.” You know—peace, quiet, maybe a moose sighting or two. We weren’t planning a major lifestyle change. We certainly didn’t think we’d be trading paved driveways for muck boots and birthing kits. But life (and nature) had other plans. The thing about the North Country is that it’s very good at growing trees. Tall ones. Fast ones. Persistent ones. Left unchecked, they’ll take over faster than a toddler with a jar of peanut butter. We were starting to lose our view—and not just a “I think the horizon looks a little hazy” kind of loss. I mean, we were being reabsorbed by the forest. So we came up with a brilliant plan: let animals do the work! We figured a couple of pigs and sheep would chew down the underbrush, fertilize the land, and maybe keep us entertained along the way. A few goats joined the team, because apparently we thought chaos was missing. Chickens showed up next, mostly for fly control—but also because they’re hilarious, not to mention that farm eggs are the best. And then, of course, a dog. You need a dog to guard the animals from the coyotes and the goats from each other. Before long, we had an entire ecosystem going. And then the questions started rolling in. “Hey, could you raise a pig for us?” “Do you sell your lamb?” “Got any extra eggs?” “Do you actually drink the goat milk?” And just like that… we were farmers. Not the bib-overalls, pitchfork-wielding kind (well, okay, maybe on Mondays), but full-on livestock-managing, early-rising, hay-in-our-hair kind of farmers. And honestly? We’re loving every minute of it—yes, even the goat-wrangling, fence-mending, rooster-escapes-at-5AM parts. We never saw it coming. But sometimes the best things in life are the ones that sneak up on you—preferably not in the form of a loose pig, but you get the idea.