Farm Fresh Blog

People who take Sunday drives through the country only see part of the story as they get a break from life in the subdivision for a sightseeing roll along quiet county roads. Most think that because the window is down, they're getting the rural experience. Ahhh... No.

They see this.

Unless they are the UPS man or the garbage man, they see a giant lump of dirty white fur with a regal expression, gazing serenely at her flock like a lazy lion on the plains. Our sightseers are left with the impression that these Big White Dawgs are large and lazy creatures. They are not getting the full picture. These dogs are NOCTURNAL.

I am a solar-powered creature. Briar is not. Briar is moon-powered.

I gave this a great deal of thought last night as I laid in bed and listened to her bark. On my old little farm her barking used to bother me because I knew it bothered the neighbors. She lived on a dead-end street with very few outside dogs, thus, when Briar barked all night, everyone knew it. But not here! No sirree! This is the Land Of Barking Dogs.

The rancher next door has an entire pack of Black-Mouth Cur Dogs that bark all night long. The lady across the road from us has a collection of dogs that bark all night. I smile as I listen to Briar's voice get lost in the nightly serenade of the Canine Chorus. The people in this neighborhood like Briar because instead of being That Damned Dog That Barks All Night, she is Briar - The Friendly Fluffy Dog Who Smiles At Us. They don't know Briar barks all night because THEIR DOGS BARK ALL NIGHT!

In addition to the barking, Briar is also prone to Moon-Activated Rips spawned when cool weather and the moon collide. This event transmogrifies Briar into the Abominable Snowdog racing around the pasture, spinning in wild circles, and attempting to body slam and leap onto me and any hapless sheep or goat in her path.

She wants to share her joy with friends. Experience has shown however that absolutely NO ONE on hooves experiences the same thrill. Being clawed in the dark by a giant dog wet with dew is nobody's idea of fun except for Briar.

Since Other Half is still at the ranch, when I came home from work last night I had to get the farm ready for bed. This meant moving bucks into their pen, moving does and sheep into their pens, and turning calves loose. Normally this is easy. Last night Briar's moonlight antics threw a monkeywrench into everything. The goats were appalled by her behavior. Even the sheep didn't want any part of the mad beast racing circles in the night.

I finally gave up trying to coax sheep into a pen with a slavering, spinning beast. Briar gave new meaning to the word "lunatic." I got most of the little stock locked up and left the rest of them with the cattle. I banked on the idea that coyotes would also be put off by a large hulking creature spinning circles in the night.

The sun rose this morning bringing with it no evidence of a large white dog dancing in the dark. Briar is back to being a serene lump in the yard, staring off into the distance.

It is Sunday morning. Bicyclists from the suburbs are once again touring our peaceful county roads, blissfully unaware that this place doesn't really come to life until after the sun goes down.