Morning Chores

It’s a rainy morning in a rainy summer. The pat-a-pat on the skylight in my room is the first sound of the day. The dim light even at 6:30 lets me know the rain has set in for the duration and is far from a passing fancy.

The old timer’s saying in the Northwoods was “rain before seven, clear by eleven,” but not today. The drippy, drizzly, downpour-ish day carries on its way, unperturbed.

“A good day for ducks,” I tell myself as I pull on the rain gear for chore time. No matter what the weather, the animals still need feeding and water hauled, coops need opening and tractor pens pulled onto new pasture grasses.

My sister Kara is out in the rain too, with her trusty wide-brimmed oilskin hat to keep the raindrops off her glasses. She’s off to the pigs and sheep, working to make the four-legged critters as comfortable as possible on such a drizzly day. The ewes look out from their barn door with frumpy faces. Rainy days are not their favorite, their springy wool turning to great sopping sponges by the end of a day of grazing.

The poultry (my charge) are a mix of fantastically happy ducks, impervious turkeys, and “Ew, it’s raining!” hens. My rain coat clings to bits of feed as I load and haul and pour into buckets from 50-pound bags of custom grain mix. Good thing I have such tall rubber boots to wear! They’ve had quite the workout this summer.

It was quite a different day last Thursday, the second-to-last of our Spoken Word gatherings at Farmstead. It was time for the three-word poetry challenge, with the sky a wondrous blue and completely cloudless. The morning’s chores on such a picturesque day must have been on my mind when drawing my words.

Three-word poetry challenge: dawn, churn, field

Golden are the very tips of the pasture grasses
At dawn.
The pair of sandhill cranes, a dusty brown
Wait patiently beside the chicken tractors.
They know I’ll be heading out to the field
Bumping along in my utility golf cart—
The modern version of the pony cart
Grandma had as a little girl
On the old family farm.

The ducks churn up their kiddie pools
As soon as I pour them fresh water.
They can’t wait any longer
To fill their bright yellow bills, tails wagging.
The turkeys stream out the door
Not even allowing me to get out of their way.
Grasshoppers are waiting in the yard,
And they know it.

As soon as my vehicle can be seen,
Meat chickens press forward upon the fence,
Eating being their day’s sole and consuming ambition.
Hens cackle and call, complaining
They’ve been up long before me and are ready
For dust holes and clover,
Digging for worms in the soft dirt.

All the poultry await the morning,
Whether sunny or rainy, still or windy,
Warm or snowy,
They are eager, hopeful, ready.

They remind me to celebrate the dawn as well,
Anticipating my own breakfast
As I pour out the tumbling feed,
Spilling just a little now and then
For those friendly cranes,
Who also were waiting for my approach
Soon after the dawn.

***

Morning chores anchor the day with the rhythms of the season, the waxing or waning daylight, the adjustments to the needs of baby or adult animals. You don’t have to wonder why you get up in the morning on the farm—the hungry critters loudly proclaim the need for you to make your scheduled appearance each day.

And they are always happy to see you.

What helps you get up and start your day each morning, rainy or sunny? Did you ever help out with chores on a farm? Take a moment to capture and honor some of those memories or daily occurrences. They may seem like tiny incidences, but they all add together in the story of our lives. It won’t be too much longer today, and I’ll be off to evening chores as well! Hopefully my rain gear will have dried out a bit… See you down on the farm sometime.