Farm Stories (or, "The Chronicles of Newman")

For the Love of Scott


…the little one died in my hands after a dramatic flutter of wings. Such beauty here and then gone.  People say, “well, that is Nature”. I say, these days, Nature is not exactly anything to write home about.

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Tricky Chickens


Now, it’s common enough in rescue work that a number of animals will be seized at one time and even transported together to various locations. But it’s truly amazing how when animals enter vehicles en route to their new haven, they manage to spawn offspring, clone themselves and, yes, actually shift shapes into some other type of being.

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Fine Farm Folk


Despite a high falutin education, years abroad, and even more years put in wearing suits and panty hose in offices whose purposes I now cannot quite remember, I now find my greatest ease travelling around Maryland and surrounding states in spring and fall, shearing sheep, llamas, alpacas, goats, and the occasional dog and pony.

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The Problem with Closets, or, Bustin’ Loose


Recently I received a complaint from Mr. Newman Goat. He said I’ve been crabby. He said he’s been finding me sitting around doing nothing, with a grim expression on my face, grumbling phrases like, “what a mess” and “no more storage space” and “it’s gonna take forever”. His analysis is that I’ve been suffering from deep, clinical procrastination, a medical condition not generally experienced by caprines but well known amongst adult humans.

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Forces of Nature


Someone has been slipping my sheep copies of old Far Side cartoons.

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