Farm Life Fails: My Hilarious (and Slightly Traumatic) Day on the Farm
People always imagine farm life as peaceful—golden sunsets, gentle animals, and the sweet smell of hay in the breeze. Let me set the record straight: that version of farm life must live in a Hallmark movie. Here on Boggs Funny Farm, it’s more like slapstick comedy meets survival training. Case in point: my most recent day of farm “fails.”
The morning started innocently enough. I headed to the chicken coop with a bucket of feed, whistling like I was in control of my life. The chickens, however, had other plans. As soon as I opened the door, they exploded out like feathery popcorn, flapping in my face and sending feed flying everywhere. One particularly ambitious hen landed on my head, claws first, and refused to move. Imagine me spinning in circles while a chicken rode me like a carnival ride.
Still reeling from the poultry ambush, I turned my attention to the goats. They’d managed to escape their pen (again), and two of them were standing proudly on the hood of my truck like hood ornaments. As I tried to coax them down, one decided to leap directly into my arms. Romantic in theory, but goats are not light, nor do they smell like roses. The impact knocked me flat on my back, with a goat smugly perched on my chest.
By the time I wrangled them back inside, Henry the donkey was waiting with his own brand of chaos. He’d spotted a carrot sticking out of my pocket and decided patience wasn’t an option. Before I could blink, he lunged, lips grabbing both the carrot and my jacket zipper. One enthusiastic tug later, my jacket was half off, and Henry trotted away with his prize like he’d just pulled off a jewel heist.
Things only escalated from there. While hauling a bale of hay to the barn, I slipped in a mud puddle and face-planted so hard the pigs actually paused their rooting to watch. One piglet even squealed as if laughing at me—which, honestly, felt personal. Covered in mud and hay, I staggered up just in time for the goats (yes, them again) to knock the hay bale off the cart and scatter it everywhere.
At this point, I thought the worst was over. Surely, the universe wouldn’t throw anything else at me. That’s when the rooster decided to go rogue. As I bent down to refill the water trough, he launched a sneak attack, wings flapping and talons aimed at my dignity. I yelped, tripped backward into the trough, and ended up sitting in cold water while the rooster strutted away like he’d won a championship.
By evening, I was bruised, muddy, and questioning all my life choices. But as I looked around—chickens clucking, goats plotting their next escape, pigs snorting happily, and Henry crunching his stolen carrot—I couldn’t help but laugh. Because this is farm life: equal parts hilarious and traumatic, with a guarantee that tomorrow will bring a whole new round of chaos.
And honestly? I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
