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December 2018<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n My downfall in life is the love of good food and collecting stray animals. Both have brought me many tears and much elation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I think my preoccupation with food started as a child as I sat watching my Gran bake these ginormous wedding cakes, then licking the mixing bowl and having icing sugar flowers made on my hands as she piped the cakes. That\u2019s where it all started. My Gran is to blame. As for the animals\u2026 I only have myself to blame. My first and foremost thought when calamity strikes is contains the following phrase \u2019What am I baking?\u2019 <\/p>\n\n\n\n The world according to Yvette = food heals all\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n On the 7 December 2018, we put our hands to paper and signed the offer to purchase a plot of land situated just 7 km from our house. It is small, only about 3 hectares but it is and was intended to be home and refuge to 3 rescue donkeys, three rescue dogs, three rescue cats, three rescue goats, two rescue sheep, 12 hens and 6 horses. There is also the matter of the 4 unwanted geese that came with the property but I save that for later. Quite a collection to which I add 5 dogs and two cats that live with me in small suburb where I reside. See, the plot (or Farm as will be referred to from now) is my place of play, not my place of stay…<\/p>\n\n\n\n Little did I know what was waiting for me when I so eagerly said:\u201d I do\u201d. Like everything else in life, I just bulldozed my way through all the telltale signs that were cautioning me to take a step back and reassess the situation. ReASSess I did. Like my ass. My husband (a mild, mannered gentleman of 33 happy, until then, years union) has in the last two years changed complexion when the \u201cFarm\u201d is mentioned. His face changes from normal to light red and then to a distinct color of purple whilst expressing his annoyance at \u2018The Bloody Farm\u2019. Eyes popping, veins close to rupturing, the signs leave me in no doubt that this will indeed be my LAST Farm ever purchased and I will be lucky to make it out alive. Then there is also the little issue of my ongoing collection of all things furry\u2026the addition of all the space suddenly opened the floodgates and I was hatching many plans to provide a home for all the lost and unwanted souls. My husband saw the signs and immediately started chanting ‘NO MORE ANIMALS!’ <\/p>\n\n\n\n The collection has grown a lot since then. Just saying.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The the story unfolds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n\n BTF – Before The Farm<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n One day I woke up, sat up and said:\u201d We need a farm\u201d. Christopher, my husband, well accustomed to my antics just sagely nodded his head and continued doing what he was doing. I took that as a YES and contacted every estate agent in our area. There was this faint idea of what I wanted but I thought I would be guided by my gut and the spirits of my departed dogs (which turned out to be too much to ask from the canine spirits in the end). The places I saw were either way above our financial capabilities or so hillbilly like that no amount of cash injected would rectify the situation. Things took a turn for the worse when my landlord, from whom I was renting stables at the time, gave me three months\u2019 notice as he had sold his farm. My small army of animals and I would suddenly find ourselves on the curb if I couldn\u2019t secure premises. The previously casual approach now became as urgent as a runny tummy. Christopher, unaware of the change of direction in urgency, still absently nodded his head in the right places and so I motored on in full throttle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Late November 2018, I had a call from an agent and he made an appointment with me to go see three properties. By now I was the queen of property surveying. I had seen so many and none even came close to what my latent spirit dogs and I had envisioned. Actually, come to think of it now, these spirit dogs were still very much in repose, not making much noise at all. When viewing some of the listed properties, I didn\u2019t even get out of my car. They were just an abomination. I sat with the car engine running and sadly said no, my head swerving from side to side as my eyes peered at the agent through the car window. Therefore, the three listed visits for that day did not excite me, and I was rather caught in a tight little bubble named \u201cI-am-never-going-to-find-my-farm.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n True to form the first stop was so unappealing I didn\u2019t even venture far from my car. The second stop had some merit and, in my head, I was slowly starting to try and convert the 6 garages to stables. The third property took my breath away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Nearly three hectares of beautiful lush green paddocks with a storeroom and a huge cow shed on the property. The house was also nice. It didn\u2019t really feature on my list of must haves as I would not be staying on the property but as for all the other attributes\u2026 my heart sang! Now please bear in mind, my dear Christopher is still oblivious to all the accelerated goings on. The man had absolutely no idea of what type of shitstorm was about to hit him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n With my usual exuberance I hug the agent, kiss the owners and trot through the property for a second and third time. I never even notice the sly little glances between the husband and wife as they watch me embrace all 3 hectares.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Over the next few days I am besieged with emotion, excitement and suddenly all the spirit animals have also woken up eager to voice their opinions. It\u2019s mayhem. To make sure, I visit the property again, this time by myself and I end up spending the day with the owners. I leave there thinking that they are saints, the property is ordained to become my spiritual sanctuary for all that lives and breathes in my care and even those that don\u2019t. It is meant to be. Praise everybody. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Now I must add here that this is my thing\u2026 I am very, very good at squeezing a square peg into a round hole when I want something. \u201cThou shalt fit!\u201d Not only do I have the tendency to squeeze things into place, but I firmly believe everybody is a good person. Problems right there\u2026an everlasting cacophony of advanced fuckery as my enthusiasm overrides every voice of reason, thereby setting myself up for some mighty big letdowns( in the end). Christopher has by now been thrown into the river of plot excitement. The man is still struggling to come up for air when I have him firmly planted in the Estate Agents boardroom signing an offer to purchase. We leave there, me smiling and him looking bewildered, but the deed is done.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The following month is a blur of activity. As it is the Christmas period, the banks are all rather slow with the handling of the mortgages. The couple that we are purchasing from go on holiday and I have no access to the plot. Frustration reigns and I chomp at the bit but I have a lot to get ready. I start making plans to move the menagerie over to their new home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNot a problem,\u201d I mumble to myself as I survey the faces of my charges looking innocently at me. How hard can it be? The date for the move is set for the 31 January. The couple that I am purchasing from have kindly decided to vacate the plot early in favor of occupational rent to be paid until the final purchase has gone through. I am once again overwhelmed at the kindness and consideration given towards me and plough ahead, showering them in gifts and sainthood (another unobserved problem right there). I am so excited and in the ensuing tsunami of moving and buying and signing and still keeping my sanity I just didn\u2019t register that it was just too good to be true. Christopher is still not sure of this entire process that is taking place so fast and has quietly tried to voice his concerns but Yvette is on a roll. My rolling has become a thunderous noise, stopping at nothing and just simply flattening everything that dares stick its head out.. I take no heed of any red flags and had my spirit dogs been a little more vigilant (yes, I blame the dead) we would have probably stopped the carnival and saved ourselves a lot of heartache. I blame them. That\u2019 s all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The first indication of fuckery was the cat and her kittens. On my first visit when touring the house, I was proudly shown the cat that had just had her kittens in the cupboard. There was mom and her 4 little babies staring at me. I tried to hide the sudden pains I felt in my chest and kept chanting: \u2019It\u2019s a farm Yvette\u2026calm the fuck down.\u201d (in my head.) It\u2019s not that I don\u2019t like puppies and kittens it\u2019s just that I have this need to sterilize everything\u2026 sometimes people too. The last 7 years of my life has been spent in being actively involved in a spay and neuter campaigns for our local community. My views on puppies and kittens are that most of them end up living miserable lives due to over population and therefore I have become a \u2018balls off \/ ovaries out kinda girl. <\/p>\n\n\n\n My gentle enquiries about what is going to happen to the kittens and mom is met with a shrug and noncommittal attitude. Early days yet, I remind myself. In the days that follow and the subsequent visits, I watch the kittens grow and my unease with the situation leaves me no other option but to broach the subject once again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018So, I see mommy cat is doing very well. \u201cWhen are you thinking of sending her in for a spay as she could be pregnant again?\u201d The wife looks at me and says; \u201dOh, I don\u2019t think we are going to have her done right now, finances are a little tight.\u201d To which Mrs. Goody Two Shoes quickly replies: \u201dOh, don\u2019t worry, I will gladly pay for the sterilization.\u201d Bugger me. The things that come out of my mouth\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n In the end the Mom cat was sterilised, all of them dewormed and inoculated via Yvette. I was assured Mom cat was going with her family. I promised to find the kittens homes. It was that or they were going to the pet shop. <\/p>\n\n\n\n On the day of being handed the keys to the property I found a vacated, empty house except for the little forlorn furry family sitting in the empty lounge. Mom and her feline kids had been left behind. No arrangements made for mom, no thought for their well-being. In the end I got a plot of land and 5 cats. Nice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In a fit of rage the mother cat packed her bags and her kids and moved out to a corner of the property. I spent the next three months feeding them there, after I had set up a temporary shelter for them. It was hell as they ran a mile when they saw me and I had to face my greatest fears when two of the kittens disappeared without a trace.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Today, Duchess and her two remaining offspring Marie & Tolouse live in grandiose style in the house. Duchess is very tame and allows her human subjects access to her personal self. She can be cuddled and petted but her two daughters have remained semi feral. It\u2019s okay as I appreciate the fact that they have boundaries, just as I have mine. My boundaries include: MUST sleep in the house, MUST be sterilized, be dewormed every three months, given tick and flea treatment when needed, their yearly inoculations and eat proper food. The rest is up to them. They have their own private sleeping quarters and a plethora of cat posts to survey their subjects from. They have also come to an agreement with the three rescue dogs that live there so, all in all, they live a royal life. Oh yes, the first thing I did after we came to our living agreement was to have all the kittens sterilised. They moved out again after that, back to the furthest point of the property. Again. I do believe the sleeping arrangements were rather basic in the bush as well as lacking in comfort so they moved back home after making their point. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Game, set and match to me. For now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n 22 January 2019 – here we go<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n I don\u2019t know where to start. To say that to date 2019 has been the Hulk Rollercoaster ride at Universal Studios, will be an understatement. Challenge yourself, do something new, fulfil your dreams… I think they are meaning at my age I should have considered learning a new language or going on a wine drinking course, not buy a bloody plot of land.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I have had a few moments of despair, then elation, quickly squashed by more despair, to be followed by such unbridled joy just to get brought back to earth with a thump again. I have found muscles I thought had become extinct but they have made their screaming appearance and now what?! My mild, mannered husband has lost his shit with me on so many occasions since the purchase of this property I felt like I don\u2019t even know him anymore.<\/p>\n\n\n\n This day was a typical despair\/ elation day. We are planting paddock poles, myself and my three little disciples. Never mind the heat, let\u2019s talk about how heavy a wheelbarrow full of cement can actually be. My three human cement mixers were brewing up the cement concoction when I decided to \u201chelp\u201d…. The mixing thereof is taking place in the building that will become the goat\/ sheep suite. This is only approx. 141 meters from where it will be poured and you want to know why we are not mixing where we are pouring? Because, my dear, I don\u2019t want my luscious (to be, not yet there) paddock grass buggered up with cement. If nothing, I am a girl with a vision.<\/p>\n\n\n\n So, \u201cMother or Madame\u201d (as you wish, I cannot get my grooms to call me anything else) grabs the full cement wheelbarrow and nearly pulls a \u2018poepstring\u2019. The disciples and other workers on the farm protest loudly and try to take said wheelbarrow from Mother. But now Mother is feeling obliged to show her strength and determination, so she wheels said cement-carting-bloody-wheelbarrow out the building whilst gritting her teeth and putting her back into it. Oh! my lordy, I had only gone 6 meters when I felt my arms tremble. My lip tucked between my front teeth I vowed to not show weakness and managed another 2 meters. I must say I was praying for Jesus to fetch me at this stage. Then I hit the first bump and the front wheel kinda like refused to move. \u201cShall I just give up?\u201d I thought. There was a deafening silence behind me. All scraping and churning of the cement mix had halted. I could feel the workers eyes on my back , not a sound could be heard except for the cheep-cheep of the wheel. I did what any other 56- year old would do in my shoes. I grunted, wee-weed (a little) in my knickers and pushed that blerrie wheelbarrow down the straight and over every bump until I covered all 141 m.<\/p>\n\n\n\n When I got to the place of holes I felt like I had had a spiritual out-of-body experience. I wanted to fall down and cry but the cement mixers were still gaping at the spectacle presented to them so I didn\u2019t. First and last for me. Know your limitations. Been there, done the full wheelbarrow thing and from then I was using my strengths where they are best, DELEGATION… enough said.Two weeks of planting poles and connecting electric fencing we had some semblance of paddocks to contain the equine brats.<\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n\n The huge barn that had to house our 6 precious equine friends also had to undergo a facelift. Individual stables were erected and just as I thought I had done it all I also had to have doors made for each stable. The list was endless and time was running out. This was, by far, the most industrious thing I had ever taken on not to mention that the Bank of Dad was kinda bled dry combined with being very sour.<\/p>\n\n\n\n To be honest my life was a mess<\/p>\n\n\n\n I went home every evening feeling like I could crawl into bed and stay there for a week but unfortunately life had other plans for me. Mina, our little rescue dog, was sick. On one particular evening after a harrowing day of building and digging I returned home quite late. I hadn\u2019t made supper or fed the home zoo yet but I could see Mina wasn’t well. I left a message for the vet on the after hours emergency phone and whilst I was waiting for the vet to call me back I zoomed around the kitchen, feeding animals and trying to get supper done. Much to my amazement there was no blue flame flickering on the gas stove. So, it turns out the gas was finished. Grab empty bottle, limp downstairs to change it for a full bottle, drag full bottle upstairs, connect it and then CAN\u2019T open it because the Hulk closed it. Bugger…<\/p>\n\n\n\n Now the vet phones back, so I put Mina in the car and throw poor Louis (my prized Louis Vuitton GENUINE nogal,handbag) on the back seat of the Goanywherevehicle. If you know me well you will know Louis gets his own chair in the movies and at restaurants so throwing him anywhere is not part of our relationship. Louis is so shell shocked with this treatment he lands on his head between the seats vomiting all my belongings all over the place. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Arrive at the vet, give him Mina and whilst waiting in the waiting area I catch a glimpse of myself. Not my best moment. Tear stains down dusty cheeks, tumble drier hair and \u201cdirty \u201c does not describe my legs and clothing. My trusted CROCS are covered in cement and dust and I am just a shadow of the girl I used to be.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I returned home close to the witching hour. Mina is admitted to hospital and my two human responsibilities had to have supper at a local chain restaurant. Recently, the group became infamous on social media due to a fight breaking out between the patrons. My boys are nothing but elated when the opportunity presents itself for them to go and have supper at a place where they might be witness to the next unofficial bare knuckle altercation between the patrons. Unofficially this saved me from adding neglect to my list of accomplishments for the day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I couldn\u2019t sleep that night. The aches and pains in my body were tormenting me. I lay awake watching the shadows in the light of the full moon knowing that by the next full moon my small army of delinquents will be residents of their own kingdom. Exciting times. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Mina.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The Move<\/strong> – 31 January 2019<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Moving from one property entailed an 11km round journey, a horsebox, an old Land Rover Discovery ( referred to as the Goanywherevehicle) two grooms and their households, 6 horses, three donkeys, three goats, two sheep and patience.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The goats and sheep where easy. We just waved a food bucket in their direction and lured them into the horsebox, all in that order and fashion. They ate the entire journey and to be honest, I don\u2019t think they knew they had moved. Even now. Once they arrived at their new home they smartly walked down the ramp, put their noses down and started to graze. \u201cJust bloody marvelous,\u201d I mumbled to myself. Invigorated by my success, I went back for another load. <\/p>\n\n\n\n My schedule was a tight one as I only had one day left to vacate the current premises. On the new plot things had started taking shape. We nearly worked every daylight hour of the day to get the paddocks up and running. With that we had the added pressure of getting the stables secure and move our grooms, with their household loads, into their new quarters. The poor Goanywherevehicle and the horsebox doubled up as furniture removal van in the interim when livestock was not being transported. Of the 6 horses we have some characters that are very particular about their status in the community. This status includes constant reminders that some of these assholes don\u2019t mix well with others. One horse doesn\u2019t load at all, one always needs to be close to his friend who couldn\u2019t care two hoots about anybody else except himself, one is a geriatric and could die of anything at any time and the last horse is a haughty bugger that tolerates no stupidity. The last but not least, there is a beautiful stallion with superb manners that does not belong to me. That says a lot. <\/p>\n\n\n\n So easiest first. The wet blanket Domino and his cool-guy brother, Tadman were the first equines to set hoof on the new soil. No problems there except that Domino never stopped screaming and was still screaming when the horsebox left for the next load. The second load was the haughty Ari and our old man Roland. Ari stood at his full height of 17 hands with the little Roland all of 14,2 hands as companion in the horsebox and they travelled beautifully. We rounded the last corner to the new home and were welcomed by the shrill screaming of Domino which set everybody off. It was a cacophony of highs and lows being belted out welcoming each other. \u201cOh, you here too? What a journey…\u201d I could imagine them saying to each other. Offload and back to fetch the gentleman of the group, Okkie. He had the box all to himself as his stallion ways would cause murder and mayhem should I have boxed him with another. The man is a seasoned traveler (been overseas on many occasions) and the business was quickly concluded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I just knew my last two loads were going to be trouble. I just knew it. Three donkeys \u2013 Duke, Fiona & Earl. Stubborn with too much attitude. All of them rescues but now living the high life with egos to match. To top it all, my grooms couldn\u2019t find the donkey halters so we had to make do with horse halters to catch the buggers. Horsebox reversed to the gate, back ramp open. A collection of food and carrots strewn ‘up the garden path’ so to speak to tempt the three devils up the ramp. The stage was set for the shit show and so it began. It is January and it is hot. Flies and bugs get trapped in your mouth every time you open it, so the best way to arm yourself is by keeping your mouth shut. No easy feat. The donkeys are suspicious and keep a wary distance. No amount of coaxing with food brings them closer. The grooms set off and soon they have Fiona, the most stubborn of the three cornered. To be honest ,we didn\u2019t have a clue of what we were doing. No sit down and planning, nothing. Did we really think we were going to get them in the box, one by one, and they would patiently stand and wait for the others to load? Now, looking back on our game plan I see only stupidity. Lennie and Alex (my grooms) were hotfooting it next to Fiona. Them holding on for dear life whilst she tanks her way through the paddock as far away from the box as possible. The remaining two donkeys follow their leader in a trail of dirt and dust, the running becomes a skiing lesson and finally the donkey wins as both grooms stumble to the ground. In that time, I have swallowed a fly and I am coughing and spluttering on all fours on the ramp trying to rid myself of the pestilence. There never was going to be the trip with the donkeys in a sedate style. Ever. I finally concede my downfall and decide to rather focus on moving the last horse. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Cintola, a Lipizzaner stallion, has a few aversions in life. He does not take kindly to the farrier, the dentist, strangers, a change in routine and above all the horsebox. My daughter, Briony, bought him from the Lipizzaner stud situated in Johannesburg when she was one of their riders. The horse has brilliant airs above the ground but none on the ground. To sum it up \u2013 he is just an obnoxious asshole. The last time he was transported he had to be sedated and as he is so highly strung the sedation wore off in a matter of minutes. Great. Recipe for success right there. Despite being optimistic and determined we didn’t stand a chance. Determination did not move the horse, nothing did. As my deadline for moving was expiring by midnight I had to beg, hat in hand, for an extension. Grudgingly, the new owners gave me one more day and with this in mind, I called in the help of the only people I knew would be able to lock and load these buggers. Our local Horse Care Unit deal with unwilling horses on a daily basis and true to form they arrived the next morning, armed and equipped. The three donkeys never had a chance. They were simply picked up and put in the horsebox. Lots of giggles later, I was called to come see the faces of the three highly offended donkeys parked in the box. Literally steaming with indignation and at the indignity of being loaded against their will, they balefully gave me the eye, refusing any treats or offerings of peace. I couldn\u2019t help but do a little dance of merriment thereby incensing said donkeys even more. <\/p>\n\n\n\n So, the stallion posed a bigger problem. He had been left behind the previous night and he was not amused. The Horse Care Unit didn\u2019t even pay the slightest attention to his bad attitude, they sedated and loaded him so fast, it was over in a matter of moments. Little did I know that my gleeful merriment at getting the upper hand here would seriously be the last time he would allow anybody to dupe him again. I think during the entire trip to the farm, he was boiling and bubbling, thinking up ungodly plans to make my life a misery and he did\u2026how he did.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Among the \u2018gifts\u2019 the previous owners left for me were 5 geese. I wasn\u2019t too perturbed about the fact , after all how much trouble could they be? Lawd help us, if only I had known…<\/p>\n\n\n\n It didn’t take long for me to give them names. Quacky & Ducky (mom and dad) and the three children named Huey, Duey and Luey. Cute hey? Not for long. These were mean fuckers. Out to kill and maim but let me not get ahead of myself. My first few days on the farm everything was awesome. I was so in love with having my own little place that I never noticed the tell-tale signs of the impending revolt. The geese were cute for two days. The third day they lay in wait for unsuspecting me and bit the shit out of me. I couldn\u2019t believe the ferociousness of the attack and by day 4 I was adamant they must go. But who takes on geese not destined for the pot? Unfortunately, most farm animals are destined for some sort of pot or stomach to be devoured with relish. The thought of contributing to this fate made me put my \u201crehoming of the feathered fuckers\u201d on hold. Names were discarded after the first salvo of malice was fired. Nothing deserved a Disney name when it is put together with malice and fuckery.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The arrival of the horsebox with the load of acid stallion ,Cintola, was heralded by the geese. We offloaded the stallion who was in a right mood at being thwarted in his refusal to load. The geese took one look at the white thing landing on their soil and went into full ground attack. The stallion saw his opportunity at revenge and promptly squashed two. Feathers flying, hooves stomping, me screaming, geese sounding the alert and poor groom trying to salvage what\u2019s left of the situation. Pure hell, I swear.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We managed to get the mad stallion into his stable and went over to see the extent of the damage done by the hooves. Quacky and Ducky were just lying there. Looking at me with parted beaks as if to say: \u201dWhat the hell?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n This just put the cherry on the day. Now this incident was going to incur vet costs on top of all the other costs as these two will have to be euthanized. Off we go in the Goanywherevehicle, geese secured in the back of the vehicle and we arrive at the vet as they are about to close. I hand them the geese and sadly say (not): \u201cI think they need to go to Jesus.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I do believe that there is a little misunderstanding pertaining to that statement with the vet and myself as the next day I got a cheerful call, \u201cCome fetch your geese, they are much better…\u201d WTF? The vet bill was another shocker , totally incoherent and speechless I collected my two willful patients, paid the bill and drove home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Since that day I have had many a run in with those geese. They are cantankerous and downright mean. Ungrateful, springs to mind. They have never seen me as part of their inner circle. I am an imposter and I have been marked with the dot on my back, so I will never be accepted. I have been bitten in unmentionable places, chased and have left my dignity behind just to try and retrieve it later. My neighbors have sat watching me run like an Olympian athlete and cursing like a sailor whilst being pursued by said Feathered Fuckers. My dogs have been bitten, they have taken on the donkeys, goats and sheep but never, ever again a horse.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I have tried rehoming them to friends (bahahaha) who didn\u2019t live far from me. The only reason I allowed them to go was that they would not be eaten just used as watchdogs. I was watering the garden one late afternoon when I heard a huge noise and some geese came flying over. \u201cOh, how beautiful,\u201d I thought. Then they swept down, landing in the garden, plucked their feathers straight and made their way to their bath. Lots of geese talking taking place and I definitely knew they were mine when they tried to bite me. Who knew geese can fly?<\/p>\n\n\n\n We are in\u2026 <\/p>\n\n\n\n The brat pack<\/p>\n\n\n\n The Feathered Fuckers<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n One of the \u201cgifts\u201d that the previous owners left me was a collection of geese. What do you call a collection of geese in \u2018real\u2019 english? I don\u2019t know but I can think of a few good descriptions like Anarchists, The EFF, Makers of Mayonnaise, Satan\u2019s Spawn or as I dubbed them, the Feathered Fuckers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n These geese looked harmless when I first arrived. They were incarcerated in a small pen and they looked at me with longing eyes screaming for release from jail. I felt so sorry for them and I asked the previous owner why she didn\u2019t let them roam the property. She looked at me and said:\u201d Of course they roam during the day, I just lock them up when I have visitors.\u201d Ok, as per usual it all goes flooop over my head and I don\u2019t think to do any more enquiries. This is my downfall. I deserve anything that comes my way after this.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Since then I have lost my dignity so many times because of these geese. They are of the opinion that I am an intruder and they have given up the self-appointed task to rid the farm of my pestilence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Don\u2019t think I haven\u2019t tried. These are the only animals that I have never been able to win over. I have broken down their jail, given them run of the farm, built them their own spa bath, fed them only the best, brought them chopped treats every night of their lives and still they want to kill me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I have tried to find them new homes they just come back and their message to me is clear:\u2019 Fuck off Yvette. You are the intruder here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n My neighbors have sat watching the nearly daily show of me being chased, bitten and loosing my dignity. They regale their stories to all that will listen with such merriment and mirth, I fail to see the fun in peeing your pants whilst being chased by a white flock of fucker<\/p>\n\n\n\n More to follow…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" OMG!, how did I get here?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":133,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-247","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-yesterdays"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/wildediaries.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/247","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/wildediaries.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/wildediaries.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wildediaries.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wildediaries.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=247"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/wildediaries.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/247\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/wildediaries.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=247"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wildediaries.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=247"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wildediaries.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=247"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}![\"Mowgli\n\"](\"https:\/\/wildediaries.wordpress.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/08\/image.jpeg?w=1024\")
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