Down and dirty on the farm

It's Tuesday afternoon. I have a grease stain on my shirt and wood chips in my shoes. At least, I hope it's wood chips, but considering I've been wandering through a petting zoo and a barn, there's no telling ...

So far, this day, I've been nibbled on by a goat, sneezed on by a llama and licked by a black Angus heifer that weighs more than my last compact car.

Did I say licked? That's like saying the Titanic ran into a little leakage problem, or Tiger Woods has been known to swing a golf club now and then. I wasn't licked, I was slurped, I was slobbered, I was deluged by a big black, sticky tongue that smelled like methane and felt like greasy sandpaper.

By the time I got cleaned up and hosed down and back to my desk, I came to a sudden realization.

I love my job!

No, seriously, I love my job. While most of you were sitting at your desks and sneaking in Facebook visits between spreadsheets and customer service calls, I was interviewing Smokey the Bear and watching a woman in a grape costume jump up and down in front of 16 second-graders. I think she was having more fun than I was, and that's saying something.

Environmental Awareness Week, in whatever incarnation you find it, is probably my second favorite event to cover from year to year (the Celebration is still Number One.) I'm not sure what my favorite part is, watching the first and second-graders "ooh and aah" as they pet the lambs -- or getting to pet the lambs myself.

Having covered Farm Day or Ag Day or 4H Day in its many shapes and sizes over 14 years now, I've discovered there are some constants. No matter where the farm or barn is -- Opp, Ala., Hillsboro, or Shelbyville -- some things will always happen.

1. It will always rain. I have yet to tromp through the barns and stables without my camera in one hand, notepad in the other, and an inch of water inside of my shoes and two inches of mud outside of them.

2. Someone will always fall down in the mud. Usually, that someone is me, because I'm backing up to get a good shot and trip over some hapless 6-year-old.

3. Some little girl will notice a farm animal drooling, eliminating bodily waste, or otherwise acting in a crude, rude and socially unacceptable manner, and will squeal "Eeeeeeewwwwwww! Grooosssssss!" At that point, at least 10 of her male classmates will look where her indignant finger is pointing and say, in chorus, "Cool."

4. Someone will get bitten. Again, this is usually me. The kids have more sense than to stick their fingers into cages, pens and mysterious boxes. I wish I could say I did too, but I just can't resist a furry creature only inches away. I think I'm acting out against the time when I was one of those kids and had to keep my hands to myself. Now I'm a grown up and I can get bitten, slobbered on or mauled if I want to. So there.

This time, I got lucky. Besides the drool factory/future Big Mac, my only other salivary encounter was with a couple of kids (four-legged) who decided the cuffs of my clamdiggers were the best thing they'd tasted since their mothers' milk. (I know the llama and knew when to duck.)

5. The day never lasts long enough. The children may crash and burn on their short bus ride home, but they've gleaned every second of enjoyment out of their visit that they possibly can. The adults involved, especially those wonderful folks from the Extension Office, may also crash and burn when the day is over, but they, too, enjoy every minute of it.

6. Everyone brings home souvenirs. These can be the "wood cookies" the Forestry guys were handing out to teach the children how to count rings on a tree to figure its age. Other souvenirs include stickers and magnets from the water cycle information booth and recipes for homemade dog treats from the Bedford County Animal Shelter.

So after a congenial lunch with these generous folks and one last walk around the barn, I had to go back to the office and face the computer screen.

Sigh.

But that's OK. I brought my own souvenir to remind me of my morning's getaway.

"Eeewwww, grossss," someone says. "Who smells like cow spit?"

Cool.

­-- Mary Reeves is a staff writer for the Times-Gazette. She can be reached by e-mail at mreeves@t-g.com.