The quirky zoo.

When the ducks quack at my house I know it's 4 o'clock, ponies start neighing at about 5pm and the dog goes nuts at about 7pm. My minute hand ticks around my animals, a few other things too (children, work etc) but predominantly, my animals mark my time.
They are all rescued, or were given, and none of them are normal. My horse has crooked legs, the pony thinks she is a dog, the dogs have issues and the ducks, well the ducks quack….a lot.
I'm not sure how it happened, I swear I am not one of those ridiculous animal people, or smelly cat ladies, but, well, it seems that I have acquired a zoo. They are high maintenance, quirky and a constant source of entertainment, pooh and work.
I feed them, cajole them into going back to where they should be and pat them and tell them they are lovely. I do whatever it takes to get my chooks to lay, to persuade the discarded sheep dog to please not round everybody up and to prevent the ponies from eating themselves into oblivion. I put up fences, I take them down, I get electric shocks daily. I spend a considerable amount of time lugging buckets of water, sometimes in my pajamas. I scratch behind ears and throw sticks.
What do I gain from all of this? A sore back and an endless source of compost, those are givens, but quite a bit more as well.  I ride my horse, through vast paddocks of green cut through by shadowy creeks and I feel free, I run with my big dog who has more energy than the All Blacks and I feel alive, I laugh at the ponies and admire the ducks; my chooks lay the best double yokers that nature can buy. They make life seem less serious and fundamentally about the simple things. A dusty track through a valley, a hill to be climbed, a jump for my daughter to conquer. Our animals provide us with a different way, an adventurous, humorous and grounding way. A way of life I guess, with a soundtrack of quacks, neighs, clucks, squeaks and ear splitting Hunterway barks.