Unfortunately, farm wounds seem to come with the territory–or terroir, as the case may be.
Splinters (some of them rather big) from handling wood.
Getting poked and stabbed by rosa multiflora, blackberries, and other sticky brambles.
Poison ivy (ugh).
Assorted scratches from bushes, fences, and other objects, both natural and human-made.
Bruises and scrapes from dropping wood on one’s foot, bashing into something, looking one way and getting whacked by something in the other direction, and other incidents (and accidents) of carelessness, inattention, and/or just poor luck.
Fortunately (let me say that again–fortunately!), we’ve had very few incidents of (semi-)concern.
Unfortunately, one of those was yesterday afternoon.
Spoiler alert: everything is fine!
Ron hadn’t trimmed the sheep hooves in some time. He hadn’t checked Brownie’s feet for most of her pregnancy. He had checked some of the other sheep feet more recently.
We got to sheep #6–Tatanka–without incident. Unfortunately, Tatanka was really squirmy–and strong. I could see what was going to happen in my mind before it actually did occur, but I was unable to get the words to come out of my mouth fast enough. Tatanka squirmed, Ron struggled to hold him, and the (sharp) clippers (open, of course) nicked Ron’s leg.
Ron is fine and the cut isn’t bad. It looked pretty awful in the first 5 minutes, but it is fine now and healing and, again, Ron is fine. But it was definitely one of those “oh, cr^p” moments.
Farming, foremost full time, is hard work. Sweaty, grimy, laborious, difficult work. And sometimes it is dangerous work. Thankfully–knock on proverbial wood here–we have had few minor incidents. But farm wounds are painful reminders (literally) that farming can be difficult and dangerous.