Check Your Squeamisness At The Gate


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There are many, many, many things I’ve been forced to do since moving here. While most are exciting, new and rewarding, there are a handful that are miserable, revolting and horrid. Come to think, I can count more in favor of the latter at the moment. Here’s a quick list of the awefullness ( I know, it’s not a real word ) that I’m subjected to:
* The removal of rotting turkey carcass that is dripping in maggots and stuck in a bramble bush of all things.
* The removal of a half rotten, mummified piglet from the VERY top of it’s living mother’s birth canal.
* Revival of stillborn piglets via mouth to snout resuscitation.
* Numerous recoveries of departed chicken bodies.
* The discovery of partially developed and slightly decomposed chic embryos who’s eggs have fallen from the nest.
* Rescue missions involving dead baby blue birds who’s mother has died and is rotting in the nest on top of said babies.

I told you. Check your squeamishness ( another ” Brie” word ) at the gate.
You can see why I’m afraid to wake up most mornings as one never can tell what’s waiting on the other side of the door it seems. Just last week for example, I lost one of the weaner piglets due to the extreme heat. Of course it was me that found her, but luckily Paul was home and took over the sad job of disposal. I guess I should have clarified with him just exactly HOW the dead piglet was put to rest and have made a mental note to do so in future, as this morning I had a terrible flashback to grade 11 English when we had to do a book report on “Lord of the Flies.” (You know where I’m going with this already, don’t you?) As horrifying as the above list may be, nothing tops walking outside in a gentle rain only to come across the decapitated half chewed on head of one of my beloved piglets. It glared at me in paradox with a sick sort of snarl on the half that was decipherable, but at the same time was winking at me as if to say “ha ha! Jokes on you!”
And truly, it is. ; (

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