This has been an extremely dry summer on the farm, and any little rain has been met with smiles and dancing. Yesterday, however, we got a downpour like a faucet turned on full and it went on for hours and hours. I woke up this morning eager to go check our rain gauge to see if we got four or maybe even five inches. Here is what I found. The top measurement is seven inches, but another inch above that the water had already overflowed. That’s rain!
After dinner last night, I debated whether it was worth going out to give the goats their evening snack in the downpour. Fortunately, I decided to do it because I discovered Cooper, the rooster, drenched and forlorn on the front porch of the barn, unable to return to his hens because the barn was locked up. I had not yet closed the door to the chicken run to keep them in and he had slipped out the fence to check on someone. He doesn’t believe he can squeeze back in the other direction, so he waits for me to escort him through the barn to return to the coop. The hens can slip in and out with no problem. When he got back into the chicken run, he took out his frustrations on the girls and I heard lots of squawking and cackling as they tried to escape his advances. Chicken society has rules I really don’t understand.
We recently attached a triangular tarp contraption off the roof of the goat shed to give them a little more shade out front. This was fortunate because after I dumped out their flooded dish and filled it with food, I set it down under the tarp and they could stand in the dry area and eat their dinner out of the deluge.
My last thing to check was the baby chicks. Their cardboard box was getting soaked so I pulled them further into the covered area away from the elements. I’ll see this morning how they did. If the box is wet and falling apart I’ll have to come up with a new cage solution for them today.