Wednesday, 8 May 2013

Farm jobs you would not believe take place

Farm jobs you would not believe take place, or Jack of all trades master of none

On the farm you build up skills far beyond what you can imagine a farmer would normally be expected to do.
Living out in the country you tend to become an emergency doctor (to stem a vigorous flow of blood), nurse (patch it up), vet surgeon (castrate, dehorn inject), executioner (occasionally a animal or bird needs to be put down), undertaker (and buried), on occasions pathologist (why it died), investigator (what caused it), policeman (who caused it), poacher (if you can’t beat them join them) , curator (show folk what we do), escapologist (get out of a hole that you've just jumped in, to escape a creditor or the taxman), and environmental wildlife conservationist (drive round the peewit nests instead of driving over them) and many more peripheral jobs that crop up when there’s no one else about to help.  
I know I jest about some of the jobs we do and how we do them, but they all crop up at some time or other, and you deal with them how you know best, its all about survival, and helping others.
 Do unto them as you would like them to do for you.

They love to hide away to calve, this was taken spring 2011

 The Work it Wonna goo Away

When ya know youve got to work, and it wunna go away,
Put ya back into ya work, and ya hope its gonna pay,
You’re are the owner and the boss, and the only worker too,
The hours dunna matter, cuz ya work the night right through.

Ya worry bout the bills, and wonder how ya gonna pay,
The bills that come so regular, n’ put them out the way,
Till ya sell and get some money, it’s so hard to save at all,
As if a hole in ya pocket, n’ its empty every time I call.

Ya look back upon ya dreams, of how it all should have been
To build up on the business, and the forecast now unseen,
Expansion every year, and just getting in your stride,
N’ the tax man catches up with you, skins you of your hide.

Owd Fred

I don't want to achieve immortality through my work,  I want to achieve it by not dying
Woody Allen  (1935)