The sun was setting as I began my drive to the farm. It had been one of those weeks, something that is happening more and more often for me of late, and I was in need of some "Farm therapy" again. Sometimes I feel as if my current path is stripping me of life faster than the animals can make up for it.
On this trip, I was only going to be able to stay for one day, Saturday. When I had e-mailed Sophia I had committed to be there at the start of the work day which meant I had to be at the farm at seven AM. As the week dragged on, the idea of waking up at 3:30 AM to make the trip had become too daunting. In order to avoid that, I had chosen to leave Friday night and that is how I found myself on the 680 heading North.
The traffic was pleasantly light for a Friday night, as I had calculated in my departure time. Going back to my childhood, there has always been something somewhat romantic about driving at night. Maybe "romantic" isn't the right word since I probably had no concept of that as a five year old, but I have always found it to be a wondrous thing. The world looks so different with the lights out and even the familiar drive to Orland took on a new look with the headlights, tail lights, and stars to guide the way. I cranked up my mix CD of 80's hair metal and felt like I was a whole lot younger, in a time and place that I miss for its innocence and mystery. I doubt that sixteen year old Brian, bombing through the desert in a Volvo station wagon with the same music blaring, would have ever dreamed that he would be where he is right now, in more ways than one. I think that the surroundings would have been as unfamiliar to him as the thoughts that have been plaguing me of late. Sixteen year old Brian had very few cares and less responsibility than his thirty-seven year old counterpart who finds himself still wondering what he is going to do when he grows up, although the answer seems more apparent than ever.
I have been checking the Farm Sanctuary job boards weekly for the last couple months, looking for things that would be a fit for me and let me feel the way I do when I am there on a more regular basis. So far, there has only been the one position I applied for, which seems to have been filled now, and a number of caretaker positions at both sites. While I am sure that the Watkins Glen shelter is great, I have a hard time imagining not being able to visit with my farm friends if I were to leave. My life just wouldn't be the same without Coco, Whitaker, Ramona, Penny, Indigo, Amelinda, Boe, Ady, and my newly adopted "kids" Melvin and Blossom. Who am I kidding, there are more animals at the Orland Farm who are a part of my heart than I could name here (Without seeming like I was just doing a "name-dropping" chapter). I honestly believe that I could find satisfaction as a care-giver at the farm, even though in years past the salary drop would have probably been a bit too much for my ego. When I ask Lori if I can quit my job and be a caretaker for $26,000 a year, I do not think she takes me seriously. I am growing to believe that my current job is killing me. Whether this will happen by me deciding one day that I just can't take it anymore (Doubtful since I am pretty resilient) or whether I will just die prematurely, it will ultimately be because I don't have the desire to live like this anymore.
When I was younger, I remember hearing tales of rock bands selling their souls for fame and fortune and pondering to myself that bargain. I find it kind of funny that today I would be tempted to sell my sole (Misspelling intentional to avoid any appearance of a formal contract to any deity, divine or otherwise) to have a chance to do something good and positive as my real job. Amazing how the years change a person! Nowadays I couldn't care less about the things that used to seem so important to me when I was a kid or even a younger fellow.
Fortunately, at least this night, there is a distraction that snaps me out of this line of thinking. After crossing the Carquinez Bridge and switching to the 80 North, there is a heavy traffic back-up. I switched from my CD to the radio to see if there were any reports of what was going on. After searching through a number of Spanish stations and some from out of the region (One was from San Bernardino of all places), I found a local station. After waiting through some commercials, the MOTO (That's Navy for Master of the Obvious) on the radio informed us that there was a back-up on the 80 North near Travis Air Force Base, but neglected to provide any useful information regarding the cause or the expected duration.
After switching back to the mix CD, things started to open up a bit on the road. After about fifteen minutes, we were moving again and coming up on the exit to Interstate 505. I tried to block out the negative thoughts that were threatening to ruin my trip and tried to reclaim the romanticism/nostalgia of the open road. It really is an amazing thing when you think about it. I guess it is about as close as one can come nowadays to being out on the open plains, trail blazing new paths on one's faithful steed. In this case, my "steed" was a Toyota, but I think the feeling was pretty genuine.
There was another reason why I was out on the road tonight rather than tomorrow morning. As I had mentioned in a previous chapter, I was growing more and more concerned about seeing trucks transporting animals to places where they should never have to go. I had envisioned it as a type of "Russian Roulette", where I could only get lucky so many times and I figured I was less likely to see this at night. Tonight it turned out the chamber was loaded when I pulled the trigger. About 40 miles from the farm, I passed not one, but two trucks full of cows. It felt like I had imagined it would. As I looked into the dark side grates of the truck all I could do was say, "I'm sorry", and mean it in a way that I normally don't. As the anger subsided, I said a prayer for them, but I doubt God was listening.
With the roller coaster ride of a drive over, I arrived at the hotel. I don't know why I worry anymore since I have never seen the place full, but I was relieved all the same to see the vacancy light lit over the lobby door. I checked in and dropped my stuff off in my room before heading back out. It was about 10:30 and I wasn't quite ready to call it a night just yet.
When I lived in upstate New York, I remember going down to check my mail one night after work. It was dark and I brought a flashlight in order to navigate the driveway. At the bottom of the driveway I had turned the flashlight off, I don't really recall why. What I do recall was being shocked by how dark it was. Without noise pollution from a nearby city and without stars or a moon, it was so dark that I could not see my hand in front of my face. It is possible that my eyes would have adjusted, given time, but the experience was so unsettling that I immediately turned the flashlight back on, fearing what might be out there that I could not see. I had a hunch that if I were to drive out to the Farm I would have a good chance of seeing real dark again, so I headed off again into the night. It is about a ten mile drive from the hotel and, as I had hoped, there were very few points of light along the way. By the time I got there I was pretty psyched to turn off the lights and check it out. I did a U-turn and pulled over to the side. I could see the lights on the barns in the distance but they didn't seem like they would upset the dark too much. The stars were not cooperating though. While it was dark, certainly much darker than anything back home, it was not the pitch black that I was seeking for. Oh well, nothing ventured nothing gained. Cranking the stereo, as one is inclined to do on a dark deserted road, I headed back to the hotel and a moderately cozy bed.
The Farm is truly a beautiful sight to behold at sunrise and I had extra time to take in the majesty as I navigated the two closed gates that indicated that animals were about in the barnyard. It turned out that the Santa Cruz sheep were given the run of the place, but they were hiding when I pulled up. After taking a couple swigs from the juice that I had picked up at the gas station down the street, I headed into the Main Office. I was pretty eager to see Melvin again...and to meet Blossom.
I had read Blossom's story on the website a couple days prior and I was stricken. She was a tiny little piglet with a face that just screamed, "Love me". I had adopted her and Melvin on Friday in order to make sure that I could visit with them whenever I wanted. And there she was in all her baby piggy glory. Like our guinea pigs at home, she was well trained to expect food when people entered or when the refrigerator opened. She already knew how to make all manners of racket to get attention and she was in fine form that morning. With her little snout pushing up against the bars of the isolation ward she was a charmer. I knew that I would have to get to know her better later.
First things first, though (And man, was it hard to not just climb in with Blossom!). I needed to check on what my assignments were. I found Kerrie inside the "pharmacy" preparing the morning's meds. I don't think she was expecting company, but Kerrie is so sweet that you always feel welcome. While I had gotten clearance to come visit from Sophia, apparently the word didn't get passed on. No problem though because Kerrie was willing to let me help out with the meds. She wasn't quite done preparing them so she gave me a few grapes to hand out to Melvin and Blossom while she finished. Melvin was quite a gentleman about his treats. Blossom, a little less refined. She wanted her grapes and she wanted them now! She wanted them so much that they kept popping out of her mouth and falling to the floor. She reminded me of Heidi when she was younger and hadn't learned "Gentle!" Eventually she got to eat them all, so it all worked out in the end.
Melvin was bleating quite a bit and I couldn't get over the feeling that either his mom or dad must have been a llama. He looks exactly like what I would picture a "goa-mma" or "ll-oat" to look like. He is so curly! He would take his grapes gently with his lips from my hand and I never worried for a second that I might lose a finger...unlike his stable mate Blossom.
Helping with morning meds was a new experience for me so it was a good way to round out my Farm Sanctuary repertoire. I must admit, though, that I did feel a bit "lazy" helping out with this instead of cleaning barns. Oh well, I was only doing what I was asked to do, right? First up were the chickens. The chickens that needed their meds were in an isolation area so it was pretty easy to identify them. Tragically, one of the chickens had passed in her sleep. As I watched Kerrie carrying her out in her arms, I couldn't help but be touched by the compassion that the keepers have for their family. This is what makes me want to be part of this. This is something that I can relate to. There are so many chickens on the farm that it is impossible to know all of their names. This sweet animal's name was Mojito, as we later identified by her leg band number. She had not been dead long, as evidenced by the warmth of her body and the fact that her body was still limp. I don't know if she passed gently in her sleep or if she held on to see one more sunrise, but in either case, I know she will be missed. I wonder what the other chickens think about what has happened. Fortunately, we were able to find her quickly and take her away so that they did not have to be reminded of their fallen comrade for too long. These are animals of community, and I have to believe that they have an awareness of the loss even if they lack our prevailing fear of death.
There was still more work to be done up at the upper farm so Kerrie laid Mojito down on a bench on a soft towel while we ensured that the other animals received their morning attention. A couple of the chickens needed some pills and they were surprisingly cooperative. While Kerrie tended to that, I checked the nesting boxes for eggs. "Holy crap, this chicken is sitting on seven eggs!" I called Kerrie over because I thought maybe there had been a problem. I pictured this poor little hen laying all of those eggs and I could not envision this being healthy. As it turns out, I was a little naive. I was informed that there were favorite nests in the nesting box and that once a chicken had vacated that spot, it was common for another to take up residence. What I was seeing was not a mass egg-laying chicken, but rather the most popular nest in the Chicken Barn. As I blushed at my initial reaction, I was happier being a little embarrassed than being a witness to a chicken in distress.
We stopped by the Sheep Barn with some special dietary platters for some of the sheep and goats. Most were pretty cooperative in being herded into their respective pens to make sure that they could eat uninterrupted. Wendy Sheep was another matter entirely. Ady and Colvin's mom is always skittish and today was no exception. I always feel bad about stressing the animals out since that is the last thing I would want to do, but at the same time they need to be taken care of and that takes precedence. We finally got her separated and she was not too happy about it. I think she wanted to be with her boys. I never see her very far from them so I am sure it makes her anxious when she can't see them. She needed some meds too, but the solution was not mixing very well in the early morning cold. I asked Kerrie to give it to me so that I could hold it in my hand to warm it up while she checked everyone else out. Within a few minutes it was warm enough to mix and Wendy's ordeal was over. She took off like a bullet when I opened the gate and made a bee-line for her boys. What a precious site to behold!
The last task, before we moved on to the next location, was to open up the shutters and barn doors to ensure that everyone had proper light and plenty of fresh air. This meant we also had time to visit with the rabbits and let them out into their play yards. Boe was hanging out with Milly and Macbeth in one pen. They seemed to be getting along very well, although I suspect Boe was trying to dominate the food based on the fact that she was sitting smack dab in the middle of the food dish. They seemed eager to go outside and it was cute to watch them bound out the door and run around. What a goofy bunch!
When it was time to head back down to the Main Office for more meds, I asked to carry Mojito down. I needed to have a connection to this sweet animal. My past farm visits have been pleasantly free from this experience, but now that I was facing it, my mind was running through the standard rationalizations. "She had a good life", "She spent her best years at the Farm Sanctuary", "She is in a better place" (If that's possible); I thought them all. I am a believer in contrasts and as I felt the warmth leaving her body on the walk to the office, I saw the life in the animals differently. It made me appreciate their lives even more.
Throughout the morning, Kerrie had been talking about the Santa Cruz sheep treatment. Two of the sheep had injured their horns and we were going to be checking on them to make sure there were no signs of infection and to give them some antibiotic and pain meds. We were on our way up here now and it sounded like it was going to be an adventure. The Santa Cruz sheep were in the Rescue Barn today and step one was to round them up into one of the smaller pens. Kerrie explained that this would be easier if we kept them together since they wouldn't be as spooked. I was starting to wonder how we were going to accomplish this feat since our first three tries at corralling them failed miserably. We had to be especially careful since they could hurt themselves as they ran together through the small gap. They could trip or catch their horns on something. After being reassured that she and Leanne had managed this the day before, I had renewed faith. Our third try turned out to be lucky and we got them all into a small pen. I probably should have counted them, for historical purposes, but I didn't so I will estimate that there were twenty-five in an area that was about ten by fifteen feet.
I followed Kerrie into the enclosure and we looked for Ricardo, our first patient. Amidst a small sea of sheep, it was difficult to isolate the ones with the wrappings on their horns. Soon we found him and I watched Kerrie's lead in order to know how to hold them for her while she administered the shots. It felt very strange to hold them by the horns. I guess it is "taking the sheep by the horns" as opposed to "taking the bull by the horns". I learned quickly that I was not quite ready for bulls. Ricardo showed me that he was a lot stronger than I was expecting by dragging me across the floor. It was probably amusing to Kerrie for about a second before I think she started worrying that I may have hurt myself. I assured her that I had taken much worse falls than that and survived. My pride may have been bruised, but my resolve was strong. I did a much better job the second time around and Ricardo was a good patient.
We soon found Ivan and I held him while Kerrie checked his dressing. His horn had become infected and a large portion of it had to be removed a few days earlier. We were looking for any indication that the infection was still there. It looked good today and I held him so that he could get his penicillin shot. Uh oh, Kerrie didn't have the penicillin in her kit. I could tell she was a little frustrated as she headed back to the Main Office to get the shot, but I told her it was fine with me. I would stay here and hold Ivan so that we wouldn't have to separate him out again. What followed were probably some of the ten longest minutes of my life. Ivan didn't try to bolt, but I had to keep a very firm grip on him and my forearms were screaming by the time Kerrie got back. It was all good in the end though and Ivan didn't seem to hold any grudges as I let him go. I am not sure who was more relieved to be out the pen, the sheep or me.
Before we left the Rescue barn, I visited with Ramona and Kerrie introduced me to Peggy. Peggy was suitably named for her pirate-like peg-leg. She had arrived at Farm Sanctuary with a foot injury and when the bandages had initially been removed, it had shown that the damage was severe and she had to have the foot amputated. She stood in the grass on her good leg, looking like a chicken who thought she was a flamingo. I felt for her since she could no longer scratch in the dirt or grass, but I am glad that she has received this chance for an extension on her life. As someone who has personally pumped thousands of dollars into improving and extending the lives of his pet rats, I believe that the value of life is not a function of size, but that it should be extended to all creatures to the maximum extent possible. As Peggy wing-hopped her way to the food, I could see that she had plenty of life left and she couldn't have asked for a better place to live it.
We were almost done by now and we only had a few more stops to make. We took a "Mule" ride, make that a very bumpy "Mule" ride, out to treat Hank, Lester, and Norman. Their medicine was mixed with their food so there was no difficulty in getting them to take it. Just two dozen cow tongue swipes did the job easily. Near the Pig Barn, we met Bonnie and Waylon. Bonnie needed to have a sore on her leg checked. It didn't seem to be bothering her, but what the doctor had thought might be a pressure sore seemed pretty raw. It would need to be monitored in the days to follow. Hopefully it would get better without surgery since that is always a traumatic experience and anesthesia is never without risk. Inside the Pig Barn, Calvin and Lilly got their morning treatments which were also mixed with food. The only exception was Calvin's hoof irrigation, but he was distracted with treats so he didn't seem to mind at all. Before leaving the pigs, we did a hoof check and administered some disinfectants for any hoof ailments. It looked kinda like green nail polish...very dainty for the lady pigs and kinda punkish for the boys.
When Kerrie asked if I would like to give Coco her meds, I had to suppress a chuckle. Can you say heck yes? I am not sure that Coco was quite an enthusiastic about her daily dosage though. She slowly walked the length of the paddock and made me follow her until she was out of yard. At that point she let me hug her neck and put the syringe in her mouth. She was really very good about the whole thing. This was so much easier than giving medication to a pet rat! I let go of my hug and Coco walked away a few paces before licking the excess medicine from her lips. I guess it must not be that bad. While we were in with Coco, Kerrie mentioned that she would be able to join the goat herd soon. For some reason "goat herd" doesn't sound right so I had to look it up on WikiAnswers...it turns out it is correct but "trip" or "tribe" are acceptable alternatives. I am just glad they don't have a "murder "of goats since that would be pretty creepy. Since she has been at the farm, Coco has not been able to join the goats due to uncertainty over whether she has Johne's disease or not, but she has finally been cleared. I sure hope that I am able to be there when it happens. That will be a really special day.
With lunchtime came the moment that I had been waiting for all day. It was time for me to spend some quality time with Blossom and Melvin. Since they were both in the isolation ward, this meant suiting up in rubber boots which were so tight over my shoes that I wondered if I would have to cut them off and an orange jumpsuit (It was only later, when I put a picture of me and Blossom above my computer monitor at work, that I noticed this made me look like a particularly scruffy convict). I had a bowl of strawberries to share with Blossom and Melvin and I decided to visit Blossom first, on account of the racket she was making over the fruit. She continued to be grabby and I had to pay attention to the way she would whip her head to the side and try to bite imaginary food. After a few minutes of this, I tried to set up my camera so that I could capture our time together for posterity, and have a very jealousy inducing video to share with Lori...Hee Hee. Blossom was quite interested in the camera angles, as evidenced by her repeated snouting of the camera. She was quite the auteur! Today, however, I was the director and I wrestled creative control back from her before settling in the corner to see if she would come over. She dawdled about for a bit before deciding to come over. When she did, she repeatedly snouted my legs to make sure I wasn't holding out on her. I had put the strawberries up on a ledge so she wasn't finding anything. That was until Melvin tried to get them and knocked them into the pen. Blossom didn't hesitate to pounce on them and I was only able to salvage a few for Melvin before Blossom gobbled them up.
After resetting the bowl on a ledge away from Melvin's prying nose, I returned to the corner and beckoned Blossom over. At first I felt kind of bad about hanging out with her instead of working, but Kerrie put my concerns to rest when she said that they were glad that someone could spend time with her to make sure she had company. With all the normal farm tasks, it is hard for the staff to always have this kind of time and I was happy to contribute in that area. After repeating her "hard to get" routine, Blossom slowly wandered back over. I reached around her back and rubbed her belly. She grunted contentedly before rolling over into my lap. As I continued her belly rub, she went to sleep, right there in my lap. It made for a perfect picture, but a more perfect experience. One day, when Blossom has grown up and joined her pig friends in the pig barn and is far too big to curl up in my lap, I will know that we shared a special moment.
When Blossom woke up, I told her that I would see her later and I went to visit Melvin, her neighbor. At first Blossom protested, a now familiar chorus of grunts, but as Melvin and I walked out into the yard, her complaints subsided. Melvin and I had met before, but this was my first time getting to join him in his pen. He is a very gentle goat and I don't have to work as much for his time and attention as I do with Coco. Melvin is more approachable and while he appreciated the strawberries, I think he also appreciated the company. I sat in the grass and rubbed his side and then slowly moved up to his ears. His right ear bears a large circular hole from a point in time where he was evidently tagged for some purpose, most certainly a nefarious one. He enjoyed having his ears stroked and being scratched behind his ears. I could tell by the way that he lowered his head and pitched it to the side to make it easier for me to reach. I watched his eyes as they partially closed and I hoped that I was not misreading his response. It felt wonderful t connect with him in this place. Holding my face to his, I hoped that I had made a life-long friend with a goat named Melvin.
By definition a moment, even a perfect moment, can't last forever but this one will not be fleeting. For the rest of the afternoon, I engaged in some more cleaning. The duck, chicken, and turkey barns, were by now familiar territory. This was my first time cleaning these with Leanne though, so there was some variety. Adding some additional flavor was the finding of my first duck egg in the process and the fact that Foofy was filthy. He was still very friendly and outgoing, but he was not his normal clean self. If he was a person, you would say he had let himself go. When I asked Leanne about this, she said this was a yearly ritual for Foofy. At some point in the year, as summer approaches, he seems to forego bathing and his feathers start to look a bit unkempt. That must have been a couple weeks ago because he was looking a little grungy now. As long as he is healthy, I guess it doesn't matter, but I couldn't help thinking of the impetuous kid who refuses to take a bath and eventually ends up getting hosed down in the back yard. It was a very windy day and after we had cleaned the barns, we had to submit to the law of diminishing returns when it came to raking up the yards. After watching too many straw piles raked up and blown away, we jointly conceded defeat.
As the day wound down at four o' clock, I asked Kerrie is I could stick around for a bit to visit Coco, if she would come to the fence line. Kerrie said that would be no problem so I grabbed a couple of grapes from the refrigerator and headed up to the Cattle Barn. Unfortunately, Coco was in the midst of eating so it didn't seem too likely that I would have much more time with her before I went home. Figuring that I had nothing to lose, I sat down and called to her. "Coco, Coco, come here little buddy", I beckoned. To my surprise, Coco began to walk over to me. She paused for a bit to grab some grass that was apparently too good to pass up, but she continued to stroll over and met me at the fence line. I offered her the grapes and she gently lifted them from the palm of my hand with her lips. I had been watching her earlier in the day as she stuck her head through the fence to eat the grass on my side. I grabbed a few handfuls that she could not reach and offered them to her and she took them without hesitation. Then she obliged me by hanging out and letting me pet her head and neck. I felt somewhat guilty for not spending more time with her at lunch and I hoped she wouldn't hold it against me. Once she joins the goat herd, I hope she will still let me visit with her and won't forget me. The fact that she came over to see me when I called her gives me some hope that she will remember me. She has never done that for me before. I sure know that I will never forget her. I shared with her how much I looked forward to seeing her with the other goats before taking my leave for the long drive home. As I walked away, I turned back to see her wandering back toward her food. For Coco to leave her food to visit with me must mean something.
The day after I got back from the farm, Lori and I had a discussion about where we are headed in our lives. The central theme in this was my dissatisfaction with my job and the fact that I need to make a change soon. Bless her heart, she is trying to work out a way to continue in her current job from Chico in order to enable me to take a job at Farm Sanctuary if I were able to get one. While this would mean that she would be the clear bread-winner in the house, I think that I would be fine with that provided that she enjoys her work. There is always the lingering question as we get older as to whether or not Lori will want to have children. That is the biggest concern I have since this move would seem to close the door to that option and I would hate to do that to her.
She has enjoyed looking on-line at houses in Orland. Needless to say it is a much better market than the one here in the Bay Area. She has found some really great houses and I have started to wonder if maybe fate is smiling on us. It is with this new found excitement and energy that I log onto the Farm Sanctuary website to apply for one of the positions in Orland. Realizing that I can't possibly get a job that I haven't applied for, I figure that this is a critical part of the process.
For my tenth birthday, my dream present was a bicycle. Not just any bicycle, but a yellow and black BMX bicycle with the little pads on the handlebars to keep me from smashing my face if I were to ever actually ride the bike off-road and have an accident. And not just any yellow and black BMX bicycle with the little pads on the handlebars to keep me from smashing my face if I were ever to ride the bike off-roads and get into an accident, but specifically the one that I saw in the store window from the bus on my ride to school every day. I had made my "need" for this bicycle very clear and three days before my birthday, I was crushed to see that it was no longer in the window. It was gone! I doubt I cried on the outside (Even then I had my pride), but I was sure bawling like a baby on the inside. Logging on to the Farm Sanctuary job board, I felt that same familiar feeling as the jobs in Orland, with the exception of the Administrative Assistant and Seasonal Tour Guide, were no longer listed. The ship had sailed and I was not on it.
Getting back to the bike, it turned out that the reason why it had disappeared from the shop window was that my parents had bought it for me and it was at our house. I have tried to rationalize that somehow this must be the case for these jobs, but even ten year old Brian would be able to see the clear disconnect between these cases. No, those jobs are definitely not in my parent's closet. I haven't had the heart to tell Lori as I want her to remain excited and to continue to see if there is even a chance that she would be allowed to relocate with State Farm if another position did open up for me. I will tell her if it turns out that she cannot relocate since I wouldn't want her to feel guilty as if this is the reason I can't get the job. In the meantime, it appears my best chance is to have a successful meeting with Dr. Kornberg at the end of the month and maybe there will be something that I can do to follow my dream. What felt so close, now feels like it has been pulled much further away.
