ManSpaining crosses the Species Barrier

man·splain

manˈsplān/

verb

informal

gerund or present participle: mansplaining

1. (of a man) explain (something) to someone, typically a woman, in a manner regarded as condescending or patronizing.

Doc and I spent a weekend digging another French Drain.  Living on a hill, a property shaped like a bowl really, they are an easy fix to guide water to where you want it, and away from where you don't want it.

Like all of our projects, it wasn't easy.  Not that it isn't an easy project, we just kept running into snags.  We are placing it just uphill of the new barn to divert water racing down through the orchard to keep it from running into and under the barn floor, and wicking up through the gravel into the barn.  We opted for flexible french drain and marked our 100 foot run with the intention of digging along the line and to one side 8 inches deep.

Last weekend, we headed to the hardware store and had two options: buy the tubing and the sock, or buy tubing with the sock already on it.  The covered tubing didn't have a price on it to compare the two, so we had to track down an employee to price it out for us. It turns out the stuff that was already covered wasn't in inventory, AT ALL. So they sold it to us, 200 feet for a song.  That's enough for this project and for the drain IN the barn and uphill from the loafing shed!

This past week, the weather was lovely.  I grabbed my spade, let the chickens out, and turned on my radio.  I worked my way to the spray painted yellow line, placed my blade along side of it, and jumped onto foot brace to make my first cut of the prairie sod.  It is also when I bounced OFF the prairie sod and landed square on the back of my front.  Both the chickens and the Prairie soil laughed.  It was like concrete.   We have gone a long, long time without rain, and our normally lovely soil was a brick.  I managed about 30 feet long and 2 inches deep, and 12 inches wide before I gave up.

Doc went out on Saturday, armed with his new shiny pick ax, looking every bit of the cartoon character he's named after to attack the ditch.  Bless his heart.  I took the tractor across the road, having taken pity on the neighbor that was attempting to move 20 cubic yards of river stone by hand into his flower beds around his house. Two hours later and all 20 cubic yards were moved and the flower beds were done.  Not surprisingly though, the ditch wasn't.  But Doc was. LOL.  He agreed our dirt is hard when it's dry.  Really Hard.

The next day we went into town to buy a single bottom plow implement for the tractor.  At least we THOUGHT it was for our tractor.  The website said it was.  The measurements matched.  Alas, while it did FIT the tractor, little Hansel was unable to lower it enough to actually DIG into the soil.  Instead it just tickled it a little.

A full afternoon of begging and pleading with the soil, attacking it with the plow blade, the transplant shovel, physically removing hens who thought this was just the best darn-sneeze shield free buffet line they'd ever seen, and more swear words than a dictionary can hold, the ditch was finally deep enough for a layer of gravel and the french drain.  I covered the whole thing and used the harrow to smooth it over.  In the Spring, I will seed it and cover it with a protective mulch netting.

Doc came home and another project was magically done by gnomes while he was gone.

I hear you.  You're saying, "what on Earth does that have to do with ManSplaining?"

Ya, I'm getting to that.  So while Doc is looking over the finished project, impressed, we were distracted by a noise, an abnormal noise, coming from the coop.  Of course odd noises are always coming from the coop, but this one was really odd.  Think someone strangling a Sand Person from Star Wars, while juggling upset roosters, underwater.  Weird, RIGHT?!



Doc and I, each with one eye-brow raised, looked at each other and wandered over to the open coop door and leaned in to see what on Earth was happening in there and WHO was making this noise.  What met our eyes, left us with the confused look Donkey gets on Shrek, and then ultimately giggling.

It was Wookie (formerly Nod) the Cockerel.  He was jumping in and out of a nesting box, while Rose, Princess (formerly Blynkin), and Olive watch on.  All I could see was their fluffy butts, however I'm sure if I could see their faces, they'd look like Donkey from Shrek too.


Here was this absolutely MASSIVE Cockerel, jumping to and fro, trying to make the egg song, but sounding like a teenage boy going through puberty trying to sing Ave Maria.  He was showing the hens that the nest boxes were a nice and safe place to lay eggs.  This is nothing new to us.  All of our cockerels and roosters have done it at some point.  But here's where it went all silly.

He was showing them how to nest, because obviously as a 6 month old boy, he knows exactly HOW to do it, and apparently they were doing it all wrong.  He surveyed each box.  He stomped in each one, apparently testing the viability, spring, and freshness of the pine fluff.  After selecting the best box, he showed them how to twirl in circles.  He demonstrated the proper way to toss pine fluff and decorated their back with it.  He even dug and nest and settled in.

Certainly after all this effort, the detailed charts, the power point presentation, and the live demo run, the hens would leap forward, thank him for his brilliant display and correction, sit down in a box and lay a few eggs.

The coop was silent, but through the silence I swear I could hear the two old hens (3.5 years old) and the little pullet - his older sister, laughing.  The two older hens wandered off, having enjoyed the lunacy of the show.  His sister, flipped her imaginary long blonde hair over shoulder with the wave of her hand, put her nose in the air, as if to say, "Boys" while rolling her eyes, went outside and sat on his crowing perch.

Yup. ManSplaining.