Some of you that have been around this here blog a while may remember that time I broke my tailbone feeding chickens. Or that time I fractured my elbow feeding chickens. Well I’m here today to write Chapter 3 in my ongoing Saga of Clutziness. The chickens are just happy that they have nothing to do with it this time.
Meet “Big Daddy” (named by Madeline.) He just looks like he’s up to something, doesn’t he? Big Daddy was the last of the last group of hogs we sold. The customer who bought him wanted to have him processed at a different locker than the one we use, so they came to load him up and haul him themselves.
They came the morning of New Years Eve to get him. I bundled up and headed out to help, and Matt asked, “Do you want to chase, or do you want to run the gate?” Normally I’m a run-the-gate kind of girl, probably because that’s the job my dad always gave me when he was sorting hogs for market. But on this fateful day I decided to change things up a bit and chase for a change.
I chased Big Daddy successfully from the outside pen into the shed, and then stood in the doorway to keep him from coming back out.
Big Daddy took one look at me and thought, “I can take her.”
He went between my legs, dumping me right on my tailbone on the ice. Matt started laughing, and then (finally) noticed that I wasn’t getting up off the ground. “Are you okay?” I couldn’t get my breath back to answer. Darn tailbone. I suppose since I injured it once already it’s always going to be sensitive. I thought I might pass out. Mostly from embarassment at being taken out right in front of our customers, who were now rushing over to see if I was still alive.
So I’ve been hobbling around this week. Just like last time it only hurts when I sit down, stand up, bend over, or sneeze. Oy.