A Bad Monday

The day after sharing Yom Teruah at a local gathering, I got rattled from my crown to my soles!  It seems everything went crazy Monday evening.  I've heard others talk about bad Mondays, but I'd never really considered myself to have a bad Monday, until the 14th of September 2015.  The phone rang before 8am for no emergency whatsoever.  So although I was thankful for no emergency, the ringing could have waited until a less startling time of day.  My mornings are pretty introspective and quiet until closer to 9.  As a rule, in Goshen, the only sounds before 8 am are roosters crowing, ducks quacking, and coffee perking.

Hank, ever vigilant but always reasonable; went berserk on the new guineas, chasing them into the timber . . .  He wasn't trying to eat them or anything, just scattering them out of the yard.  I had a very heated, strong word for him.  I'd never seen him act so intensely before.  I accepted when the guineas had roosted in the timber that some of them would be prey for the owls.  I didn't necessarily accept it graciously, but I did accept it.  That rattling was emotional and disappointing, but there is a certain amount of loss when it comes to free range poultry.  I'm still recovering from the next one.

Leroy Brown, the buck I bought in early September at the livestock auction has taken his job very seriously.  He is what is known as a "working buck."  That is the socially acceptable way to say he is openly displaying every mating ritual of his species . . . constantly.  Buck goats have some pretty odd rituals, and bear absolutely no shame in demonstrating them.  I've learned to live with the musky scent that seems to hang over the entire place through the autumn.  Some goat breeds have a breeding cycle throughout the year, while others are seasonal, like deer.  Having a mixed dairy herd, I try to keep a buck of the breeds that have seasonal mating, rather than year round.  I usually keep the buck in the north pasture after breeding season and through the heavy milking season, but Leroy Brown has already be "rehomed."  His work here is done!

 When Leroy arrived, he was docile, to the point I wrote about how amazingly docile he was for an older buck.  Then, he realized there were females . . .   The gate will never be the same.  Leroy is leaving the Land of Goshen with a few memories permanently etched.  The once straight metal gate is now bowed beyond straightening and I have a couple of fingers that appear to have a new shape as well.  In all fairness to Leroy, he is still very docile toward me, but he cannot be trusted around the gate.

Back to the evening after Yom Teruah.  It was chore time and I had been able to move the does as they "came in" back to Leroy's pasture for just a couple of days, then when breeding was accomplished, bring them back up to the front.  A buck in the pasture really taints the flavor of the milk.  I can't explain it, but it's a proven fact.  So, I've been keeping the milkers time with the buck, limited to "strictly business."  It was all going pretty well for the first few days, but then it happened.  I was moving one doe into the Leroy's pasture, when Leroy was right there at the gate with his eye on a young doe right next to me.  The young doe is at that awkward age, old enough to come in season, but too young to breed safely.  A buck in rut cannot or will not be reasoned with.

It's all just a horrible painful blur now, as I was letting Cherie in the back to spend a little time with Leroy, he had his eye and intent upon Rhoda who was standing right next to me, on the opposite side of the gate  The instant the gate was opened for Cherie, Leroy rammed it, and my hand was immediately caught between the gate and the fence that runs perpendicular.  As he backed up for a second shot, I knew I had less than 3 seconds to get something done, so I got my hand free, grabbed the gate with all my might and stood for the second impact.  By then I was running on pure fear and adrenaline . . . but by the grace of G-d, after he backed up focusing for the third hit, I did get the gate latched.  He hit it a third time, then I secured the second part of latching, looked at my bloody mangled hand and knew I had to finish milking anyway.

The next day, as I was trying to peck out an article I heard Abba clearly speak to me, directing me to go outdoors, look directly at Leroy and tell him in the Name of Y'hshuwah I have dominion over him.   The old saying about putting "feet to my faith" was never more clear than it was at that moment.  I also knew, immediate obedience was required for promised results, so . . . I got up, went outdoors, went through that gate to Leroy's side.  He was down near the pond, but when he heard me, he came striding right up.  I stood holding my walking stick in my injured hand, raised my right hand and declared precisely what Adonai had told me to say.  "Leroy, in the name of Y'hshuwah I have dominion over you."  He stopped, he stood, and then he gently approached me.  I petted him, went to the gate.  I then told him there would be no more raucous at the gate.  I walked through without incident.  Every day he talked to me, he ate out of my hand, and he stood by that gate every evening at milking time . . . but he simply stood.

As for the guineas, in my time of injury, I really wasn't on top of everything I needed to be around here.  One day there were none to be accounted for.  I couldn't see or hear a single one.  I prayed, asking Abba to please watch over the ones that were left.  The next day, half of them reappeared.  The number isn't great, but perhaps if I'd prayed sooner, it would be larger.

In spite of a bad day, I don't believe Mondays are inherently bad.  Meanwhile, the reality of The Word has replaced being rattled.

Thou madest him to have dominion over the works of thy hands; thou hast put all things under his feet:  All sheep and oxen, yea, and the beasts of the field;  The fowl of the air, and the fish of the sea, and whatsoever passeth through the paths of the seas.  O YHWH our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth!    from the 8th Psalm