farm-er n 2: a person who cultivates land or crops or raises livestock 3: YOKEL,BUMPKIN
How in the world does someone accidentally become a farmer? In my case it didn't happen when I inherited the family farm. It didn't even happen when I married a farmer. No it was much more insidious than that.
At first I was a pet owner, nothing exotic, just cats, dogs, birds, and a fish here and there. Then we moved to the country on 5 acres so it only seemed fitting to begin gardening. Two moves later and the scales begin to tip. Now we find ourselves on ten acres, a garden goes without saying and adding an orchard only seems reasonable, but still till just a homeowner, pet keeper, gardener, and orchardist until...the call.
"Is this Kim?"
"Yes"
"This is Linda from the local Humane Society"
Pause...thinking of a reason not to donate
"Oh"
"The reason for our call is that someone mentioned that you had an interest in farm animals"
Now what evil twisted person could have put me on the 'hitlist' at the Humane Society? Scrambling, scrambling...memory uploads! My darling sons along with their classmates had recently visited that very same facility that was patiently waiting at the other end of the line.
"Uhh, I guess"
"Well we have two charming goats that were found wandering dowtown and we need to find a home for them."
First there is the mental picture of two goats snacking their way through the newly revitalized streets of our tiny town, munching on freshly planted petunias, looking in shop windows, and leaving much bigger messes than the resident pigeons...someone call the sanitation man with the pooper scooper.
Second thought was... did she just call those goats "charming"?
Pause...
"They seem to be very well behaved goats...and there will be none of the usual charges for adoption."
Pause...
"Besides, goats are wonderful for eating brush, they especially love blackberry vines."
Sold! That crafty Humane Society lady knew just the right buttons to push...I'm cheap and the blackberries were offically winning their bid for domination in their steady march across our property. Maybe these goats could even out the battle, my own weapons of mass destruction!
"OK, as long as they are charming, well-behaved and love blackberries."
CLANG..the scales had irreversably tipped and I had just accidentally become a farmer.
