Fishbowl

This morning I was greeted to the sight of 12 white legs and three curious noses outside my bathroom window. The goats had gotten out, and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying my juniper bush. (If only they enjoyed the weeds in the pasture as much!) Our snug little school house is at the center of a blessed acre, and I have brought into our lives and onto this land just about every manner of animal I've had the chance to buy, beg, borrow, steal, or rescue. The goats, for example, are on loan from some friends, who are currently caring for our calves. They also got chickens from our neighbors at the same time we did. All of these creatures (plus cats, dogs, and a possum) have stared at me from outside the same juniper-shaded window. (Creatures here being the animals, I mean, not the friends. So far, I've not seen any of them peering in.)

For some reason, this animal activity has been a bother. Perhaps it is the fact that the favored viewing place is our bathroom window, which leaves us vulnerable to being observed in all stages of undress.Why we should care if the hens have seen us naked and dripping wet is beyond me. After all, who will they tell!? Nonetheless, it does give pause. My husband has taken to yelling (in a friendly sort of way, possibly as a simple greeting he believes to be suitable for their limited intellects), "CHICKENS!!!!" every time he sees them peering in at him. Whatever his reason for doing so, the hollered salutation doesn't seem to faze them. Perhaps it is just more fodder for the gossipy clucking at their weekly hen parties. ("Oh, I KNOW! Not only is she packing on weight, but he insists on yelling at us every time he sees us! Barbarians, aren't they? Pass the cracked corn, will you dear?")

The net result of all of this animal activity is that our trips to the bathroom have an awkward, strained quality. We're either shielding ourselves and hastily exiting the room post-shower to avoid being subject to a  beady gaze, yelling out the names of farm animals in a manner similar to an enthusiastic 18-month-old looking at a picture book, or glaring at the window, hands on our hips, with a quizzical, squinty stare. Any way you look at it, having animals has significantly changed our bathroom habits. Who knew? Potential farmers, be forewarned.

I'm beginning to think it might just be a conspiracy. When we first got the hens they had a peculiar habit of tapping on the window in a manner that sounded just like someone faintly knocking on our door. I think I lost 5 pounds the first two weeks we owned hens because of constantly getting up to check for visitors. Once I figured it out, upon hearing the tap-tap-tap I started heading to the window in the bathroom, instead of the door,  to ... to...... Ok, I'm not sure why I did that. Was I hoping to catch them in the act? Scold them? Certainly I knew that yelling, "CHICKEN!!!!" at them wasn't going to do any good. Just what was it that I hoped to accomplish by hovering near the toilet and staring at my little flock? Whatever it was, I'm sure it made the hens snicker under their wings at us.

One time when I went to check on my prankster poultry, I finally it figured it out. We stare quizzically in at the fish in our fish tank (which just happens to be across the room from the bathroom window), and they stare out at us. The chickens (and goats, and cats, and calves, and possum) stare quizzically in at the funny people in the bathroom, and we stare out at them. And, here I am, inviting all of you to stare quizzically in the window of my world, onto my funny little acre and all the strange comings and goings on that happen here. Just be aware, we're probably staring back at you as well, and so it continues in the endless cycle of the observed and the observing.