1773. After the pandemic

It was only a few years after the pandemic that swept Planet Earth. No, not the Coronavirus (Covid-19) several hundred years earlier, but a new and far more fearsome pandemic. Without warning, like a tidal wave of infection, it swept through the world’s population, killing them, and leaving only half a dozen or so humans, who had some sort of natural immunity, on each continent.

What a dream come true to have the whole of the North American continent almost to oneself! What a wondrous fantasy come true to set ones bed up in a corner of St. Peter’s in Rome and be able to say, “This is my bedroom”! When a vehicle ran out of gas, it was easy: just pick up another limousine!

Oh, but the stench! The several dozen on the planet inevitably wore face masks for a few weeks to facilitate breathing. What a happy thing it was when quite by accident a survivor bumped into another survivor! One couple early on were even able to start a new family.

Don’t think that these survivors were irresponsible creatures who didn’t give a hoot about others. One of the first things each did, almost automatically, was to wander through farms and zoological gardens and open gates and doors. That way the animals were free to fend for themselves and not be enclosed and starve to death. Of course, there were so few people that only a small percentage of animals were freed, but it was enough.

Time ticked on and new families began to form. How marvellous to have no pollution. The growing populations didn’t just sit on their haunches and do nothing. They learned to make their own flour and cider and everything else.

But the freed animals from farms and zoos also grew in numbers. They needed to eat. It didn’t take long for the tiny human populations to disappear.

Without humans the planet thrived.

1477. Selling up

That old lady, Mrs Tucker, has let her farm go to wrack and ruin. It used to be so well run, so orderly. These days, buildings are falling down; it’s under stocked with very few head of cattle; there are never any crops. I don’t know why she ever bothered to think she could farm the place. It was great while her husband was alive. And then her boy took over but he died in the flu epidemic way back. After that I don’t know what got into her head that she thought she could do it herself.

She is such a silly old lady. We hardly ever see her, and no one ever talks to her. She’s a bit weird really.

The other day I accidentally bumped into her in the grain shop. She said “Hello, Nigel”. I got a hell of a fright because I wouldn’t have thought she knew my name. And then she said she was hoping to sell off her remaining animals and then sell the farm all together. She said she didn’t know much about farming and had been doing her best since her husband and son had died, but the time had come to bite the bullet and sell up. So did I know how to go about selling the animals?

I said to her – I like to call a spade a spade – I said, lady if you don’t know how to do that after all these years then you never should’ve started. I’m not here to give free advice.

She said thank you and went on her way. Such a strange lady. A bit weird really, as I said. No wonder the farm’s so run down.

1464. War families

Enid’s husband had died in 1910. In the traditional, old-fashioned way, Harold ran the farm and Enid ran the household that included a son. The farm was the sole source of income of course, but it was a partnership. One spouse couldn’t do without the other.

When Enid’s husband died fortunately her son, Jack, was old enough to run the farm on his own and do all the heavy work. It was a partnership as before, although Enid was inclined to help more on the farm than she had previously.

And then Jack was called to war.

Enid ran the farm as best she could, but it wasn’t good enough. She sold the farm for a song. The farm wouldn’t take care of itself while she waited for a millionaire to come along and buy. She went and lived in town, but had no experience of the work force. Her skills lay in other areas. She couldn’t find a job.

And Jack didn’t come back.

It’s not only soldiers who make sacrifices in times of war.

1347. Ride into town

Butch would saddle his horse and ride into town. It was an all-day expedition and a weekly one – every Wednesday. Butch always admonished his wife, Mary, the same way: “Make the grocery list thoroughly. I don’t want to have to go into town a second time in one week. If you leave something off the list, that’s it. We’ll just have to do without.”

Then off he would go, leaving the farm, and the milking of the cow, to the care of his wife for the day. This weekly Wednesday venture was Butch’s way of having a day off. And it was useful as well; someone had to get the groceries. Besides, Roosters’ Saloon, the local watering trough, was an added attraction.

“Silly man,” thought Mary every time, “if he just took his cell phone I could text him with anything I’d forgotten.”

1292. Life on the little farm

Betty once went to stay for a few days with her good friend Gustave. They had been friends for over thirty years. They had attended each other’s weddings, and now both spouses had passed away.

Gustave lived on a little farm. He had a few chickens, a cow, two sheep and a goat. As well as that he had a wonderful orchard and a gorgeous flower garden.

“The break from city life will do you good,” said Gustave. “And there’s plenty to do during the day while I’m away at work.”

Betty thought it a marvellous idea. On her first day on the farm she thought she would make herself useful by doing the laundry. She washed the pile of clothes and hung them on the line to dry. The goat came along and shredded the clothes he didn’t eat.

Gustave came home and:

(Please decide on the correct ending)

1. They laughed and laughed. Never had such laughter been heard on the little farm for many a year.
2. Gustave was furious. They haven’t spoken to each other since.

Music 141: Water wheel

This water wheel feeds all the troughs on the farm where I live. It also waters (when no one is looking) my vegetable garden over the dry summer.

Listen to the music HERE!

1181. Playing chicken

Jane and David had a small lifestyle farm next to a going-nowhere, country road. Chickens would not infrequently get run over while dust-bathing in the unkempt, pot-holed road. One day, their favourite little black hen was run over, leaving seven babies motherless.

Frustrated and angry, Jane and David placed a letter in every neighbour’s mailbox. Can’t you drive with more care? Can’t you slow down? We have chickens that use that road. Our favourite chicken was run over…

“Did you get the complaining letter in your mailbox?” asked Farmer Eric of Farmer Phil.

“Yeah,” said Farmer Phil. “It kind of killed my fun.”

1056. Cock-a-doodle-do

Everyone said that Claude’s rooster was a prize bird.

“I don’t know what you did to that rooster,” said Farmer Jack, “but for a nine year old boy to raise a rooster like that is fantastic.”

“You should enter the rooster in the poultry competition at the upcoming Farm Show Day,” suggested Mabel. (Mabel was a notable ornithologist.)

So Claude did. You wouldn’t believe the preparation that went into getting the rooster ready! He had everything done to him that chickens normally don’t get done: his legs were washed and oiled; each feather was individually preened; even his magnificent tail had a surreptitious whish of hair spray.

Farm Show Day arrived! All were agog at nine year old Claude’s rooster. Cock-a-doodle-do! Cock-a-doodle-do! The rooster was something to crow about.

Anyway, like most things in life, it didn’t get anywhere, so Claude brought the thing home. Eventually, like most domestic birds, they had it for dinner.

Poem 28: Mary Ann – Harry

– an eclogue

Having settled on creating an Eclogue, as my chosen poetic form for this month, I perused Virgil’s famous “Eclogues” (translated of course) to get some inspiration. I had great difficulty in comprehending them, even after reading the footnotes numerous times. This Eclogue is a response to, and an admission of, my own inadequacy.

Mary Ann (a town girl):
Harry, you must go and milk all the cows that are lowing o’er there.

Harry (a shepherd):
No, my dear Mary Ann, I really cannot be bothered today.
It is idyllic so, lying here with you this late afternoon,
cool in the shade of a sycamore tree in the field.

Mary Ann:
Oh, but the cows have udders near bursting with cream.
Calves have been taken away from them so that they need to be milked;
I mean the cows not the calves. I hear them bleat.

Harry:
Moo.

Mary Ann:
Moo?

Harry:
It’s like the cow and the bull, and the ram and the ewe, and the white
duck and the drake, and the hind and the stag, and the pigs;
let us make love in this bucolic place with the sky all above.

Mary Ann:
Oh, but I have soon to catch the last train back to town where I live,
leaving behind all this wonderful pastoral countryside bliss
in exchange for exhaust fumes and tooting of horns at the traffic lights.
This is no time for such hanky-panky and for you to toot
toot your horn as well. Toot toot.

Harry:
Toot toot.

Mary Ann:
Too-da-loo. I go!

Harry:
See how the smoke from the cottage afar curls in the sky.
Evening begins to set; husbands and wives light their fires for warmth,
Cosy in domestic love. See how the shadows stretch long in the meadows.

Mary Ann:
Quick! I must leave for the train that will take me away from the farm.

Harry:
Oh well, I’d better go milk all the cows that need milking then.
Farewell, my lovely dear Mary Ann. May you enjoy the long trip
back to the town where you dwell.
But will you marry me?

Mary Ann:
NO! But my heart will be left behind in this most rustic of settings,
here with the lowing of herds winding slowly in line o’er the lea.

Harry:
You already said that.

Mary Ann:
And there are olive groves and vineyards.

Harry:
Where?

Mary Ann:
There are also peaches

Harry:
and cream.

They kiss. Mary Ann misses her train.

To hear the poem read aloud click HERE.

969. New to the farm

A sheep, a cow, and a pig are standing at the farm fence watching the arrival of a truck with new livestock.

Sheep: Who do you suppose is arriving this time?
Cow: It could be a cow.
Pig: It could be a pig.
Sheep: It could be a sheep.

Two ostriches step off the truck and on to the field.

Pig: What are they doing here?
Cow: (calling out) Go home, you dirty foreigners.
Sheep: We have lived on this land for generations.
Pig: No room here. It’s crowded enough as it is.

Cow: They messed up their own land, and so now they have to come and mess up ours.
Sheep: Here goes the neighbourhood.
Pig: They say ostriches can kick something terrible. They’re introducing violence into society.
Cow: Next thing they’ll expect us to welcome alpacas.

Pig and Sheep: (in shock) Alpacas! Whatever for?

Listen to the story being read HERE!