Dark Water Ranch

  (Ninnekah, Oklahoma)
On the Ranch
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Meeting of The Minds

I am sure this farm does not run like a well-oiled machine. Matter of fact there seems to be only one thing that every species of animal agrees on around here. Can you guess what that is? That is right F-O-O-D. It always has to be time for food. When is it coming, what are you bringing and it had better be good.

Come to think of it that sounds just like the rest of my family! Okay I am starting think conspiracy. I am destined to either have a bucket or pot in my hand. The universal language then has to be FEED ME!

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Pig Plow

We are saving some fuel,  hard work and time by having a couple of the medium size pigs plow up part of the garden area. Sounds good huh? Well, for the most part it works just fine, they do a good job on grass and weeds, including roots. They hate onion bulbs but love the tops, the draw back they don't like old okra stems anymore than me.

Today, I dcided to speed their work up a little by going in with them to pull out the old okra stems, had to be done with or without the pigs. We were working well together, I'd pull out the old stem and they would work the spot right with me. All of sudden I found myself alone, wondering where my help went I turned around to hear water noises and see the pigs playing submarine in the water tub.

It may only be March 1st, but the pork says it is already much to hot in Oklahoma. 


Change Your Good Shoes Before Going In With The Pigs

It pays to remember what you're wearing before you start doing your chores. I was running late yesterday - I had to go to town for some things. I got home and I knew it was later than the normal time that I do chores. Everybody on the farm was hollering that it was time to be fed. A kind of singing tirade of "hey did you forget us, it is time to eat, hurry hurry"!

I got all the groceries in the house and came out to start the chores. The pigs were screaming the loudest, so they were first. I dropped their feed over the fence and noticed the water tank was now empty and rolled to the back of the pen. So in the pen I went, it was after I reached the tank and started back, that I realized I had not changed my shoes. No rubber boots, no old tennis shoes, my good suede shoes and I just walked through the pigs and where I was thoroughly inspected with slimy slobbers and wet noses. 

My good shoes may now be my chore shoes and my old chore shoes tossed. There is a moral to this story - change your shoes before going in with the pigs!

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