The Hoe Down was upon us and I was on my way back up to Orland. I had never been to a Hoe Down before and I wasn't sure exactly what to expect. I believe that the term "Hoe Down" is derived from the concept of putting one's hoe down at the end of the week and letting loose. but that is just my theory. Since I have noticed that I have a "Hoe" overload in this opening paragraph, it is probably time for me to stop speculating and get on with the story.
Generally, it seems like the drive to the Farm is getting shorter and shorter, but this time was an exception. To put it delicately, I had drank a bit too much water in the morning before I left and in the car since I left. This put me in an extremely uncomfortable position as each crack and pebble in the roadway registered on my bladder. This agony continued from Interstate 680, through Interstate 80, through Interstate 505 and only ended when I finally hit a rest stop on the I-5. I guess I could have gotten off at an exit and sought out a bathroom at a gas station, but I kept convincing myself that it was just a little further and I could wait. I have a terrible tendency to get lost when I get off at unfamiliar exits, so I guess that qualifies as a valid reason for subjecting my kidneys and bladder to a completely unnecessary hydrostatic test.
After I pulled into the rest stop, the painful walk to the bathroom was a blur. The only thought I remember was the nagging concern that with my luck it would be closed for cleaning or something and I would have to use the ladies' room. It wouldn't be the first time, unfortunately. The first time it happened was on another day like this one where I was distracted. It was the day that I graduated from boot camp and was on my way home. I was elated by the combination of leaving my evil troll drill instructors behind and going home to see my friends and family, and I walked right into the women's room on accident. This would have been embarrassing enough, but the fact that I was in my dress uniform with my name on it only compounded the burning embarrassment that threatened to set my face on fire. Lucky for me, there was no need to repeat this mistake and the men's room was open for business. What a relief!
As I walked out, feeling eighty pounds lighter, I reached for my keys. As my hand entered my pocket, I experienced what could only be a precognitive moment. Something bad was about to happen! My keys weren't in my left front pocket. They weren't in my right front pocket. They weren't in my left rear pocket. They weren't in my rear pocket. They still weren't there the second or third time I checked. I tried the driver's side door and found that it was locked. I looked through my car window with dread, expecting to see my keys there in the ignition, but they weren't. They must have fallen between the door and the seat. My mind was racing. I had wanted to get there early and now it was looking like I might be in for a sixty mile walk. I was mentally preparing myself to break my window and continue my desperate search in the car. Wait a second! The only way I know how to lock my doors is with the key remote. The fact that the doors were locked meant I must have had my keys when I left the car. They must have fallen out of my pocket in the bathroom. Oh God, please don't let them have fallen in the urinal!
I ran back to the bathroom, hoping that if they had fallen in the toilet, no one had already relieved themselves on them. But they weren't there. They weren't in the urinal, they weren't on the floor, and they were nowhere to be seen. Maybe I dropped them when I was walking from my car. This is where my distraction was a problem. I couldn't remember my route! All I had been aware of was my pain and the rest was lost to my memory. I paced back and forth from the car to the bathroom several times with no luck. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of white contrasted against the green grass. It was my Farm Sanctuary key chain, showing me the way to my lost keys. Without that key ring, I may have never seen the black keys and would probably still be there lamenting my bad stroke of luck. Instead, I was quickly back on the road and closing in on my destination.
As I approached Exit 618, I had a sudden urge to check into the hotel before heading to the farm. I don't know where this came from, but I try to follow these impulses because I want to believe that the universe is trying to tell me something. I stopped by the hotel at about 11:30 to see if I could check-in early. My luck was improving since they said my room was ready. I didn't really have any reason to go up at this point, but at least I wouldn't have to wait later in the day if I was in a hurry to get cleaned up between my volunteering and dinner.
I got back in the car and drove one exit up before driving the last nine miles to my destination. When I was about two miles away, I was surprised to see two cars stopped in the middle of the road. This was surprising for two reasons. First, they were blocking both lanes, one pointed on way and the other pointed in the opposite direction. Second, it was just weird to see two cars on this "off the beaten path" stretch of road at the same time. There have been many times when I have navigated this stretch without seeing another sign of human life other than the houses that are sparsely dotted along the side of the road. Anyway, as I got closer, I could see that one of the cars had its hazards on and the second car started to drive again as I approached. As I passed, it was clear that the car, a Toyota Prius (Hmm, I seem to remember hearing some reference to problems with those on the news every day for the last couple months), was having problems. I turned around and pulled up in front of the car to see if I could help.
I should begin with the disclaimer that I know little about cars. Sure, I can identify most of the components under the hood, but that is the equivalent of trying to be a politician based on knowing the state capitals. Maybe that is a bad analogy. I would probably take someone with those basic qualifications as opposed to the pompous clowns in our government. Well, regardless, anything I may have known wouldn't do me much good in this situation since this was a hybrid motor. As I walked up to the car, I asked if they could use any help. They explained that the car had just died. The digital console display showed a "Hybrid System Failure" or something like that and an "Oil Maintenance" light. It was about the same time that I was mulling this over that I saw a familiar face. Gene Baur was also walking over to help. It turns out that the man and woman in the car, who I had originally assumed to be a couple before her husband or boyfriend called, were part of a film crew he was working with. They had driven their new Prius up from Los Angeles and for some reason it had decided to "retire" in Orland on Newville road.
A review of the manual was only marginally helpful in understanding the failures the car was reporting. The "Oil Maintenance Light" was easy to explain since it was automatically generated when the car reaches 4,500 miles (It was at 4,556). The "Hybrid System Failure" one had the following explanation: "The Hybrid System as encountered a failure". Real helpful!
Recognizing that neither the car's owner, passenger, Gene, nor I possessed the requisite skills to get the car up and running, the focus shifted to getting it out of the middle of the road. This should have been an easy proposition. Lord knows, I have pushed my share of cars, but this one was not going to be that easy. For some reason, the car would not shift into Neutral. It was stuck in Park. Great! With Leanne's help at the shelter, we were able to identify a tow company who could come get the car and take it to Chico for repairs. Nothing against Orland, but I was not surprised to learn that there weren't any places to take such a car in town. The male passenger, I believe his name was John, walked down the street in order to flag people down before they rounded the corner that immediately preceded the spot where the car had died. The rest of us waited and occupied ourselves reviewing the documentation that came with the car, looking under the hood (Yep, that's not going to help anything), and trying to make phone calls from a notorious dead-zone in cell coverage. The fact that it is the Bermuda Triangle for cellular signals is normally one of the selling points of Orland for me, but not today.
Then something interesting happened. The car was able to shift out of Park and into Neutral. This wondrous feat only seemed possible when the doors were shut. I guess this makes some sense from a logical perspective. For safety you wouldn't want to open the car door unless the car was in park to prevent the chance of being run over. I could certainly see the merit in that, but this feature had not proved particularly helpful thus far. Out of concern that the car may be temperamental, we decided to seize the opportunity and start pushing. We heaved and hoed (More heaving than hoeing for the record) and moved the car about 200 yards down the road to a spot where there was enough of a shoulder to safely park on. I am always nervous pushing someone else's car, especially now that they have so much plastic and so little metal to push on. Fortunately the car got to its destination unscathed.
During our wait for the tow truck, Gene asked if I was still writing. I told him that I was and that I had been busy since we met in January. I had printed a copy of my latest revision in progress for Gene and for Dr. Allan Kornberg and I told him I would give it to him once a better time presented itself. I thought it was pretty cool that he remembered my Farm stories and I have to admit it made me feel proud.
Once the tow truck arrived, the impromptu adventure was over and everyone was on their respective way: Gene to Chico, the Prius folks to Chico, and me to the Farm. It was only a matter of minutes before I was parked at the Main Office and looking for some work to do. I wasn't quite sure what was on deck for me today, so I started looking for Sophia. Since I was early, I wasn't surprised that she wasn't immediately available. Someone called her and I was directed to head up to the People Barn. That was on the other side of the Farm, but I decided to walk over rather than drive. When I got there I found Leigh, but she was just getting ready for her break. She asked if I could sort the recyclables and take them to the Vegan House while waiting for Sophia. This took about fifteen minutes and then I walked to the Vegan House which was about half-way between the Main Office and the People Barn. I was certainly getting my exercise today and the day had just begun.
When I got back from the Vegan House, where the interns normally live (They are currently living in the caretaker's house while the Vegan House is having some repairs), it was just me in the People Barn, so I continued what Leigh was doing before she left; Working on gift baskets. I find a lot of peace in simple repetitive tasks, so this one suited me just fine for now. Admittedly it was a change of pace from barn cleaning, but variety is the spice of life.
Once Sophia arrived, it was time to move on to bigger and heavier things. After getting the gift baskets to suitable point for someone else to take them over, I met Sophia outside. My assignment, if I was up for it, was to wrap yellow braided rope around the posts in the field to create a parking lot. That sounded easy enough. Someone, presumably at the last event, had even been considerate enough to label the ropes so that the next person would know which ones were the appropriate lengths for specific portions of the parking area. How nice! This made it very easy to rope out the upper parking lot and I was quickly on to the lower parking area. If you have ever seen National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, you can substitute the visual of Clark Griswold's tangled Christmas lights for the scenario that I found myself staring down as I starting trying to hang the rope. For those who lack the sophistication to have seen such a fine piece of American cinema, either I know nothing about rope, or someone had deliberately booby trapped this rope, or God hates me because there were immense tangles in both ropes which had to be worked out before I could proceed. Situations like this are bad enough with shoe laces, but become much worse when the rope is about 100 yards long. I kept waiting for a search party to be sent out to find out what had become of me, but either I had been gone so long that no one remembered me, or I had not been at it as long as it felt because no one came for me. In hindsight, I should have probably cut the ropes into smaller lengths and bought replacement rope if anyone had a problem with it, but I didn't. As I tied the ropes up, I realized that I hadn't remembered my knots from my Boy Scout days and I pitied the fool who would have to untie these. Maybe I'd get lucky and it would be whoever rolled up the rope in the first place. Naw, that's just mean.
Checking my phone for the time, I headed back up to the People Barn. I was particularly sensitive to time today since I was scheduled to meet Dr. Kornberg at the Farwood Grill at six to have a meet and greet. There was still plenty of time left and there was plenty more to do. Next on the list was setting up the tables on the patio area. One of my only complaints from the Thanksgiving for the Turkeys was that the tables seemed pretty densely packed and it was hard to navigate them. I was determined to provide more space this time around. Luckily most Vegans (Possibly excluding myself, although I am working on that) are immune to the obesity epidemic that has beset America and most consumers of the dreaded Western diet, but that doesn't mean we don't like some space. I set the tables in an alternating pattern that seemed to provide plenty of elbow room. The only problem was that there wasn't enough room in the patio space. This was primarily due to a large tarp covered hay semi-pyramid that had been erected in the center of the patio. It seemed as if it may be an elaborate set piece so I asked Sophia about it. I learned that while these were part of the farm scenery, they were just staged temporarily on the patio. They were to be used to form a cosmetic wall, a podium, speaker stands, and auction tables. That made a lot more sense than the pyramid.
Since I couldn't proceed with the tables until the hay was relocated, I decided to change tasks and start moving them into position. Sophia was also helping in this and she kindly offered me a pair of gloves. For some reason, the idiocy of which would only become apparent to me later, I declined the offer. As I worked to maneuver the bales into a wall, it quickly became apparent that there were significant weight variances between them. They were all pretty heavy and awkward, but some were decidedly more so. The one thing they had in common was that the twine they were bound in all bit into my fingers mercilessly. I looked all over around where Sophia had been for the set of gloves she had offered, hoping to inconspicuously don them before proceeding, but I couldn't see them. Like a man who is lost, scratch that, like an incredibly stupid and stubborn man who is lost and won't ask for directions, no matter how much his wife is nagging him, I decided to ignore my finger and just keep going in my current direction. Before too long, we had the podium, the speaker stands, the auction tables and a five by three hay bale wall. The wall made me particularly nervous since I had visions of it falling over and I wasn't sure how litigious Vegans might be if they were buried an unexpected, wind-driven "hay-velanche". Not wanting to take any chances, I worked with Sophia to string figure eights around the "walls" in order to anchor them to a post in the center of the wall. Satisfied that I wouldn't be the cause of the "Great 2010 Hoe Down Disaster", I went back to setting up tables.
Between checking the time every thirty seconds, I continued laying out the tables and chairs until five o'clock came around. At that point I took my leave and headed back to the hotel to get cleaned up. In reality, I probably smelt the best I ever had after a day volunteering. Assembling the gift baskets had involved stuffing soaps into little bags and I wasn't nearly sweaty or manure covered enough to off-set that smell. Out of consideration for the appearance of my hair, however, I decided I should get a shower before going to the Farwood.
Since my car was back at the Main Office lot, I had another long walk before I could leave. On the way over I ran into Mike and asked him how Rufus was doing. The last time I had visited him he had looked dire and I had spent time hugging him and praying for him to get better. As Mike gave me the news, it was clear to me that my prayer was either misdirected or a failure. Rufus had passed away earlier in the week. More accurately, Rufus had medically slipped the mortal coil. These are moments that challenge those with great faith, so you can only imagine what it does to us of lesser faith and hope. Once one's faith is shaken in one area it becomes more difficult to shore it up in others, but I cling to my belief that Rufus is back in charge of the herd in farm heaven and that he is with Isabelle, Vivien, and Seymore. I can tolerate the absence of heavenly influence in this world provided that there is indeed a place where our animal friends get to once again be whole and happy. Anything less would be unbearable.
After getting cleaned up and blow-drying my hair with the car's heating vent, I found a spot out front of the Farwood and took a seat by the front window. It was still a bit warm and the sun refused to go behind the building in front of me that was trying to provide some meager shade. This gave me some time to practice my squinting. I was just about mastering my technique when Dr. Kornberg pulled up, and we found a table in the back near where the dinner reservation was set-up. We had about forty-five minutes to chat and it was interesting to learn about his path from medicine to Farm Sanctuary. I am not sure how well I held up my side of the conversation. I was a little uncomfortable over whether this was a "get to know ya" type of chat or a "job interview" (Albeit without a job) type of chat. I was not entirely ready for his request that I pitch him on what I could do for the Farm and I really wished I had prepared myself better for this. But I didn't and the conversation meandered around pleasantly for the balance, although I was forced to wonder whether my hopes of a position may have sunk like a raft, ripped open by a submerged log in the stream. I made sure to give him a copy of my latest writings and was somewhat buoyed by the fact that he had evidently read some of my earlier chapters.
About the time I started to feel comfortable again, our conversation came to an end with the arrival of the other dinner guests. Once everyone had arrived, my awkward feeling returned as I surveyed the table. We had Dr. Kornberg, Sophia, Leanne, Connie Pugh (A nurse by trade and farm photographer by divine gift), Jonathan Balcombe (Author of "Pleasurable Kingdom", which I found to be a wonderful read), Dr. Will Tuttle (Author of "The World Peace Diet") and his wife Madeleine, Breeze Harper (Another author - I hope my meager book stays under Dr. Kornberg's chair!) and her husband and child, Tanya Petrovna (A Southern California Vegan restaurateur), Michelle Waffner, and I am sure I am missing someone. While the conversation was pleasant and the food was great, I couldn't help wondering if folks were curious why I was there. By the time dessert was done a couple hours later, I was ready to head back to the Orland Inn and crash. The drive up and the set-up work at the Farm had taken a toll on me and I was beat.
It was not a very restful night. It seemed like I was waking up every hour until it became clear that it was getting light outside, which was my cue to get my butt out of bed. When I had talked to Sophia last, she had mentioned that I didn't have to be in early, but I wasn't really sure what else to do with myself. I couldn't stay at the hotel without going stir-crazy, so I headed out to see Black Butte which is across from the Farm. I had seen it many times, but had never bothered to go check it out.
As I drove past Farm Sanctuary, giving a cursory glance to see if there were people there since this would give me an excuse to stop by (There weren't any cars that I could see), I saw what looked like a large raccoon or a small dog in the on-coming lane. I slowed down and saw that it was neither, but rather a large horned owl. I had never seen an owl this big, so it was understandable that I wouldn't have recognized it from a distance. This poor fella, I assume it was a male, seemed to have been killed in a collision with a car. His beak was open and his head and neck were in a strange position, even for an owl. Other than this, there was nothing that would explain why he would be lying in the road. I pulled over to the side of the road and resolved that I did not want him to get run over again. He would not suffer any further indignity if I had my way. I opened the back of my truck and gently picked him up and laid him down in the rear of the car.
At this point, I wasn't quite sure what to do. He was off the road, but I wasn't sure where to take him. I found a little turn-off on the shoulder near the Sanctuary and decided that this would be his final resting place. Lacking a shovel, I tried to improvise using a couple of CDs that I had in the car. Using the edges to dig, I found I could get a couple of inches into the dirt before it became too hard for the plastic, and the edges started to splinter. Looking around at the gravel along the side of the road, I came up with another solution. Once again, I gently cradled his body and moved him to the shallow grave that I had started. I have never been to an open casket funeral before, but for this one I would have to say that he really looked peaceful. He was such a beautiful and noble bird and I couldn't resist stroking his head as I said goodbye and apologized for his meager grave site. I found a shopping bag in the back seat and began filling it with gravel. I started covering him from his feet and moved slowly up until I came to his head. I marveled at how amazing he looked close-up before carefully applying a layer over his face. One more bag ensured that he was protected from casual predators or scavengers and a stick inserted into the ground provided a rustic marker that ensured that this particular bird would not be forgotten.
With sad eyes, I continued on to Black Butte. It turned out that there were several entrance points to the area. The first one I tried appeared to be more of a boat launch than anything else, so I headed to check another one. The next turned out to be a bit more scenic. It was elevated and provided a great view of the reservoir on one side and the Farm on the other. The reservoir was much bigger than I expected. I was also quite surprised to see a plaque stating that the dam was operated by the City of Santa Clara. Since that was back in my neck of the woods, it seemed a bit odd. I wandered around for a bit, taking in the view of the reservoir and watching the birds swooping over the water and a few songbirds perched on the fence. At the same time, though, I kept checking my watch to see if it was time to go to the Farm yet. I walked uphill a bit to check out a big cross that was erected, but where I would have expected to find an inscription, there was only a stone platform. I suspect that the placard was either stolen by vandals or scrap metal thieves. As a result, I will never know the significance of the cross. After visiting with some local cows, unfortunately the type with ear tags, I could wait no longer. I had to go to the Farm and see what I could do to help set up.
As I pulled up I was glad to see that there were a few cars in the lot. My arrival wouldn't smack of the desperation that I had hoped to avoid. Leigh and a couple of other volunteers were putting table cloths down so I figured I would help with that. This, however, would not be as easy as it would sound. There was a fairly strong breeze whipping through the edges of the People Barn patio and it was causing havoc with the cloths. A variety of implements had been recruited to the cause of keeping them in place, but the clips, rocks, and duct tape on the tabletops were all failing miserably. There had to be a better way.
As I was pondering this conundrum, I overheard Leigh talking to Michelle and explaining that one of the volunteers had decided that they didn't really want to volunteer. She had brought one of her kids and somehow hadn't reckoned with the fact that she would actually be expected to help out. This seemed like a good opportunity for me. Since Lori had not been able to attend, I had offered to be a volunteer the prior weekend, but had been told that they had everything covered. Now I had a chance to step up. This would allow me the opportunity to spend time with my animal friends and also to help set up and talk to people during the tours. Plus, I got a volunteer shirt. Bonus!
My "Eureka moment" came when I realized that the table cloths were large enough to have their corners wrapped and taped around the table legs. This system turned out to work wonderfully. There was only one drawback. We were running out of tape, so I tore it into thin strips to conserve and I did something that in hindsight wasn't too smart (Okay it wasn't too smart in real-time either). When I am working with things, tools, screws, etc, I have a habit of putting things in my mouth to hold them. I did this with the tape strips on this occasion. After the second or third time, it became clear that this was not wise. The tape was pretty strong and it seemed to be removing the surface layer of skin on my lip. Wonderful! Fortunately it didn't leave a mark, but I had to resort to copious applications of chap stick to keep it from feeling too raw. These ministrations continued the rest of the day at regular intervals as the sun and my tongue threatened to further aggravate it.
After the tables were set up, I was assigned some other tasks such as moving the hay bales from the previous location of the auction tables on the patio to the new location in the People Barn. Once again, I neglected to ask for gloves. Then it was off to the Main Office and the Rabbit Barn to top off the ice in the water and ice tea coolers. When I had run out of tasks to do at the People Barn, and after Leanne had given her kick-off speech, I was told to go work with the other volunteers who were monitoring the guest's interactions with the animals.
I really love the chance to spend time with people in this setting. When I am given the opportunity to expound on the animals' stories, or my experiences with them, or my feelings in general, I find that I am in my element. I had the opportunity to introduce Bonnie to a number of people and to tell them her story and how wonderful she is. I saw the flicker of anger and sympathy in their eyes as they heard of the neglect that she suffered at the hands of an owner who saw her as nothing of import. I watched as they petted her, brushed her, hugged her, and had pictures taken with her. I hoped that they would remember her when they left and that they would never see another donkey without thinking of her. I witnessed hearts being touched when people heard of Waylon's dedication to Bonnie and how upset he would become if he didn't know where she was. Without anthropomorphizing, I do not know how to explain this other than to believe that there is a love there that drives this behavior and I cherish this knowledge.
Waylon's chivalry afforded him a lot of admirers who drifted over to brush him after visiting with Bonnie. When I saw a group of people congregating around Casey and Phoenix, I walked over to see if they had any questions. I explained how Casey and Phoenix were brothers and how they shared a bond as a result of this. I pointed out the lick marks on their sides that were the evidence of grooming each other. I answered questions about their age and how long they had been here. When Casey was making "purring" noises I opined that he probably enjoyed the petting that he was receiving. I pointed out that if it was an indication that he didn't like it, he would certainly get up and leave.
And then there was Whitaker. Whitaker was not in the people area today and it was obvious that he resented this. He stood or laid at the fence line almost the whole time, looking as pitiful as only he can. I spent as much time as I could with him between discussions. I really do love the little guy and know that he means no harm, but his playfulness would not go over very well with most of the guests who didn't sign up for being butted, chased, or worse, mounted. I did get to introduce him to a number of folks who knew him from his baby pictures on the website and newsletter and remarked at how quickly he had grown.
I was truly having a wonderful time. I love to share things that are important to me and I so rarely get the opportunity to do so in such an unfettered forum. I like to believe that these discourses may cause people to think differently or to see something that they hadn't noticed before. Admittedly, this was more of a preaching to the choir type of scenario given that the majority of Hoe Down attendees were Vegans, but it never hurts to reinforce someone's existing position. As I took picture after picture of folks with their new animal friends, I knew it was making a difference.
"Brian", called an unfamiliar voice, which briefly startled me before I realized that someone was reading my name tag. "Can you recommend to the People Barn that they carry batteries? The batteries for my camera are dead and I can't take any more pictures!" "What type of batteries does your camera take?", I inquired back. When she replied that it uses AA batteries, I recalled having the urge to buy additional AA batteries for my own camera earlier in the day. I had originally thought to buy just two, but something had told me to buy more and I had chosen to follow that internal voice. "I have some that you can have", I offered, and I headed off to my car to get them. As I handed her the batteries, she offered to pay for them, but I asked her not to and instead implored her to use them to good end. "I would hate for you to miss a single good picture with the animals", I confided and then I went back to handing out some of the extra magazines that someone had donated. This is one of the many lessons that I have learned in the past year. It is the little things that we do in life that sometimes make the biggest impact. These small acts of kindness, which unfortunately often surprise people, serve to link us together and cause us to think differently the next time that we are provided with the opportunity to act to continue this chain of goodness and civility. I always think back to my first visit to Farm Sanctuary and wonder how much different my life would be today if Carolyn had decided I was there too close to closing time and had turned me away. This small gesture has changed my world view and my life. In the case of the batteries, I can't see anything quite as profound coming from it, but who knows. Maybe she will share her pictures, which would have been impossible otherwise, and touch other lives in a ripple effect. Oh, to dream!
The tour period was winding down and the speeches were about to begin. I opted to stop by and visit Blossom before heading back to the People Barn. It was not surprising that a young piglet was getting a large number of visitors in her pen, but what was surprising was the racket she was making. The only way I can describe the sound she was making would be to say that it was a hybrid of a shriek and a howl. She was clearly not happy and the volunteers in the pen looked a bit uncertain of what to do. This is where my previous visits with her came in handy. There are two public bathrooms on the Farm. One is in the People Barn several hundred yards walking distance from the animals and the other is in the Main Office to which Blossom's living quarters are adjoined. For people to use the bathroom in the Main Office requires that they walk past the refrigerators. Blossom's adorable face has resulted in caretakers generally grabbing a treat for her from the fridge when they walk past, but none of the novice bathroom goers knew of this ritual. Blossom did and what I was hearing were her protestations. There was only one cure for this: three grapes, stat! This did the trick and with her shrieking now ceased, people were able to resume their visits with this special little girl.
Once "visiting hours" were over, I reluctantly wandered back up to the People Barn. That really isn't a fair statement for me to make since I did want to hear the speakers, but it is always hard to walk away from the residents. Dr. Kornberg kicked things off with a short talk and then introduced the first speaker, Jonathan Balcombe. He had a very good message, but shortly after he stared there were some comments from the crowd that sound wasn't loud enough. Since I was on the side of the patio nearest the PA system, I checked to see if it could be turned up. It seemed to be maxed out already and things got worse in a few minutes when the speakers started to clip and drop out. I checked all of the connections and couldn't find any explanation for this. Making matters more frustrating was the fact that the microphone would seem to pick up voices when it was sitting down, but as soon as it was picked up, it would drop out. This led us to believe that there may be a microphone issue so in between speakers we swapped microphones, but to no avail. In the five minutes we had, we swapped out sound boards, but even this didn't seem to have any effect. It was clear that the amplifier was the root cause, but we had no option for this.
When the next speaker, Breeze Harper, took the podium, the microphone seemed to work for a bit, but then started dropping out again. It was very frustrating because in my efforts to help I was casting myself as the "sound-guy" when in reality I knew very little of the set-up here. Fortunately Breeze's voice was strong enough to carry throughout the patio. While her message was clearly one that was passionate and borne of her experiences and her perception of them, I have to admit that it did not connect with me as much as Jonathan Balcombe's had. While I am certainly not perfect, I do not appreciate being generalized as a "generalizer" by someone who feels they have been generalized. The sheer ridiculousness of that previous sentence sums up my feelings toward the core message that she was trying to convey. It came across as amazingly condescending and judgmental to me in its tone and underlying belief. I appreciate that Farm Sanctuary had brought a diverse group of speakers, but this one was not my cup of tea. As we struggled with the PA, I imagined her believing that the PA issues were yet another example of "The Man" trying to hold her back and that I was somehow the chief architect of the whole thing.
As this was going on, I was working with one of the guests on Plan B and Plan C. For some reason, which I neglected to ask, he had two portable PAs in his van and we set these up in the ten minute gap between speakers and did a brief sound check. By the time that Will Tuttle took the stage, we had it all sorted out. Unfortunately, this meant very little for the first two presenters, but there wasn't much that we could do about it at this point. Will's speech and Biz Stone's that followed were both very good and emphasized what we can do to make a difference in our worlds and the need to exercise these options for the greater good. Biz's allusions to people probably being hungry were well timed and dinner commenced.
The meal was very well done. A local caterer, I believe they were called "A Family Affair", had a really nice spread of Vegan food. Everyone seemed very enthusiastic about the cuisine and it went fast. There was a constant blur of caterers coming and going as they refilled the buffet style trays for the waves of diners. By the time the other guests were served, I think all of the staff and volunteers were eager to chow down and we did so with a passion.
Once dinner had wrapped up, Dr. Kornberg took to the straw podium again to say "Thank you" to the speakers and the attendees. He then singled out the staff and volunteers for their work leading up to and during the Hoe Down. Clapping rapidly, I scanned the crowd for familiar faces and mentally thanked them myself. The last item of business before dinner was officially over was the presentation of the "Friend of Farm Animals" award. I hadn't heard of this before and I looked around at the gathering for likely recipients. I remembered Connie from dinner the night before. Her passion for the animals was evident in her words and her pictures and I thought she may win. Then I saw Jeannie and recalled our discussion the week before as we were cleaning the bathroom. She was a major activist in the Orland/Chico area and was a Farm regular. She would certainly make sense as a recipient. I looked around at the staff and wondered if they were eligible. All of them are heroes to me and I would be hard pressed to pick one over the others. I thought briefly about whether I could ever win and how proud I would be. Based on all of my thoughts during this time, Dr. Kornberg must have really been working the suspense, like one of those game show hosts who plays a moment to climax before cutting to a commercial. "And the winner of this year's Friend of Farm Animals award is...Brian Higgins". I was stunned and almost afraid to stand up, lest I break my daydream and ruin the moment. It was a weird mix of elation and a sense of being unworthy. I was in the back of the crowd at the volunteer's table, so I chose to walk around the People Barn rather than trying to make my way through the crowd. In hindsight, I probably could have floated over everyone to the front in my current state. Every step along the way I half expected that there was another Brian Higgins or an Adrian Haggis, or someone other than me. As I rounded the side of the people Barn and made eye contact with Dr. Kornberg, I half expected to see someone else up there with him. How embarrassing that would be! But no, I hadn't misheard, I had really won. I stood sheepishly and felt my eyes watering up as he read the award. This was the biggest honor of my life. No other award I have ever earned was for doing what I love. After a somewhat uncomfortable eternity of hearing my virtues expounded on, Allan asked if I had any words. At first I said no, that he had put it better than anything I could say, but then I decided to take the mic. I honestly do not remember what I said at that point. I only know that I spoke from the heart and that I must have meant everything that I said. It was very surreal and as I looked out across the crowd, I couldn't have been happier. No, strike that, I would have loved to have had Lori there with me. She and I had a difficult conversation in the days leading up to the Hoe Down when she thought I might be happier without her since it would let me follow my heart to the animals. I had assured her that she is my life and that the fact that I hadn't run off to the Farm should be seen as ample proof. It would have been perfect to have had my first love here along with my second love, but it was not to be. When I was done speaking, I returned to my seat amid applause. I know that I sat there numb for a while before dropping my gift bag off in my car and returning to the People Barn.
I thought of all of the love that I have for the animals. I thought of all my writing and experiences at the Farm. I thought that this would make the perfect climax for my story (Unfortunately my "Year to Life" isn't over yet). I wished that I could accept this honor without having my "praise defenses" come up. I wished that I could fully experience the pride of this moment. At this point in my life, I could imagine no greater honor, and yet I was strangely detached from it. It was only when I was talking with Indran, Leanne, Kerrie, Molly, and Ashley a few minutes later that I started to let some of the feeling permeate my exterior. Beyond my award, I took the most pride in their company. These are amazing people and I wish I could remember whether I gave them a "shout out" in my impromptu acceptance speech.
Now that dinner was officially over, it was time to set up for the dancing. This meant that the tables would have to go. My effective solution to the table cloths blowing away now became a major pain in the butt as I had to try to remove the now well adhered tape from the table cloths. No good deed goes unpunished. At least I didn't put any of the tape in my mouth. By now my raw and sunburned lip was ample deterrent against doing anything that stupid...again.
If my dancing would benefit the animals in any way, I may have opted to have a go at it, but by now I think they were all in bed and the laughter and shocked cries from the people barn would only interrupt their beauty sleep. Plus, there was already an abundance of goofy dancing going on, so I took my leave for a little while.
As we were taking down the tables earlier, I had set aside some roses from one of the catering table centerpieces and placed them against the fence. I didn't really have a plan for them at the time, but suddenly an idea developed. I decided to pay tribute to my friend the horned owl whom I had buried earlier in the day. As I walked down from the People Barn, down the path to the lower parking areas, it was getting dark. I stopped to listen to the Farm for any animal sounds and heard a voice from behind me instead. "Excuse me, can you help me", said the woman's voice. I couldn't see her clearly in the low light, but before she spoke I surmised that she was having car problems based on the fact that I saw a car with its hood up in the same line of sight from which she had approached. What was it about car problems today? I wished I had paid more attention in auto shop back in high school. I went to a pretty crappy school so when we had to disassemble and reassemble our engines for the final test, they didn't even make us start them up afterwards. As such, I had stuffed my pockets with the "bonus" pieces that were left over when I was done and got a passing grade. Assuming that I wasn't the only one doing that, I suspect that there is little left of any of those engines by now! Today seemed to be payback for that past episode of cheating. "My oil light is on and I can't get the cap off", she explained. "Great", I thought, "Now I will not only be emasculated for my lack of car knowledge, but it may be worse if I can't get the cap off either".
When we got to her car, I had no problem getting the cap off, luckily. I checked the level and added a quart and the light cleared. She thanked me and my heart was happy at having found another good deed to do for the day. That is about the only thing I actually remember from Boy Scouts: "Do a Good Turn Daily".
I picked my flowers back up from where I had set them down, to avoid getting them oily, and started back down the dirt path to the county road. By now it was really dark, like out in the middle of the country dark. The lights from the People Barn were visible, but they provided no relief from the darkness down here. Fortunately, there was a good long stretch of straight road on either side of the Farm so there was little chance of a car running me over, but it didn't allay all of my concerns to this effect. As it turned out, a car ended up coming along and actually helped me find where I was going. As is often the case, it is hard to rectify the distance travelled when you are in a car and when you are walking. As such, the grave site was actually quite a bit further from the Farm than I had thought and I was nowhere near it as I fumbled along, almost completely blind. The car's headlights provided sufficient glow and duration for me to orient myself. Once I found the site, I placed the flowers down and said goodbye. I didn't really know how to eulogize an owl and figured that less is better in these situations.
After resuming my observation of the dancing rituals of Vegans and realizing that it is good that they have other wonderful traits, I made one last check to see if there was anything I could help with. After consulting with Leigh, Sophia, and Michelle, I decided that it was probably as good a time as any to head to the hotel. It had been a long day and I with another day at the farm to go and the drive back home the next day, I would need my rest. For the first time that day, my inner voice let me down. If it had been on duty, I am sure it would have told me to wait another five minutes or to leave earlier, but it didn't. This year's "Friend of Farm Animals" found himself arriving at the hotel at the same time that a "premeditated murder truck" was pulling in across the street. I normally reluctantly look at these, praying that there would be no occupants. This night, there was no need to look. I could clearly hear that, unlike my hotel, there were no vacancies in this truck. As I died a little inside, I prayed for the animals and hated myself for being powerless for these friends.
Sleep came in the form of fits and frequent wake-ups, no doubt brought on by the feelings and memories from the night before which had blended into a cocktail of ups and downs with a bitter aftertaste. I decided that I would head straight to the Farm, regardless of whether it was too early. When I arrived, I helped set up some tables for breakfast and for some of the break-out sessions with the speakers. As breakfast wound down, the morning yoga lesson was set to begin. Due to the temperature outside, it was decided that it should be moved into the People Barn as opposed to being held on the patio. This meant another round of hay bale lifting and relocation. I wish I could say I had my form down on this, but I was still about as clumsy as can be expected with what I would estimate to be a fifty pound, four by two by one and a half foot bale suspended by baling twine. Figuring that this qualified for my morning workout, I asked Sophia if I could do something different this morning and help the regular caretakers with their chores. As odd as it may sound, I actually felt a little shortchanged since my visit thus far had not involved any barn cleaning or getting dirty. Sophia said it would be okay, so I headed up to the gate, jumped over it as nonchalantly as possible, and went looking for Molly to see what I could help with.
Good fortune was smiling on me on this day because Molly told me that I should go spend time with Coco and Melvin instead. The guilty feeling washed away before I had turned around, and I headed over to the sheep and goat pasture. Coco and Melvin, and the rest of the herd for that matter were feeling pretty mellow as they lay in the morning sun, enjoying the after effects of a grass breakfast. As I approached Coco, she watched me closely, but didn't get up. I sat down next to her and petted her for a bit before becoming emboldened enough to lie down and look her in the eyes. Coco can be a mixed bag during our visits. Sometimes she will allow some petting and other times she doesn't. I choose not to find it frustrating, but rather to savor the time that she does share. Today, she was in a sharing mood. I put my arm around her and massaged her back and side, like I do with Heidi at home. I started to understand why they were lying in the sun. It was really nice with the cool air to feel the sun's rays on my skin. I could really get used to this. After a while, I laid my head on Coco and just hugged her. To those who haven't been to the Farm, this may seem like a strange thing to do, but here and now, it felt very right.
After probably ten minutes of quiet, I heard some snuffling in my right ear, moments before feeling gentle, wooly pressure on my shoulder. As I looked up, I saw Ady's face and realized that he had stopped by to say hello. His visit roused Coco from her rest and she headed back over to eat some more grass in a nice little shady spot in a crease in the pasture. Ady has become more approachable in my recent visits and had even nuzzled his nose in my palm, but this was the most affectionate I had seen him. He visited for probably two or three minutes before following Coco's lead and deciding that he could use some more food as well.
I took this as my cue to check on Melvin. His hair was still a lot shorter than I was used to, but his face was unmistakable. He was also lying down and let me hug him and scratch the spot between his horns. He really seemed to like this and I was happy to oblige. He is such a gentle little guy and he is still getting accustomed to the herd. I think that he may have a harder time with it than Coco since he is a he and therefore needs to compete for a spot in the hierarchy. His hair was warm from the sun and he was squinting at me in his characteristic manner. I am convinced that he would have sat there with me all day, but it was time for another visitor. Once again, I felt a warm muzzle on my shoulder. I turned to see what Ady was up to, when I realized that it wasn't Ady at all. It was Colvin, Ady's brother. I could tell because of the flat-top haircut that he has since his shearing and the muzzle on my shoulder was followed up by a hoof. These were both Colvin traits. While he had been recently sheared, his wool was coming in thick already. I tried to dig my finger tips into it to give him a good scratching and he seemed to appreciate my efforts. He is still considerably bigger than Ady and I suspect he always will be. His long tail looks so skinny now with his wool shaved off and it is reminiscent of Heidi's tail when she was a puppy.
I continued petting Colvin with my left hand and Melvin with my right and for a while I had their faces on opposite sides of mine. These are the moments where I wish I had a remote camera that could catch these moments forever. As it is, I have to rely on my memory and hope that I don't inadvertently embellish it too much. Have I mentioned I love it here!
For the next thirty minutes or so, I established a rotation of spending time with Coco and Melvin while Ady and Colvin did their respective things in the field. I was so happy with the way that the morning had begun, but I began to hear voices which indicated that there were folks around beginning tours and I didn't want to raise any questions about why I was allowed to be there alone when the other guests had to be accompanied. I did, however, feel a lot of pride about this fact.
Now that the rest of the group was making their way on to the Farm grounds, I felt the need to do something to help out, for real this time. I decided that I would collect the eggs from the nesting boxes and hard boil them. While I was doing this, I had the chance to have some nice chats with Molly first and then Ashley. For me, it was very interesting to get to know them both better. Molly talked about her previous shelter work back in Texas, which was something I didn't know about, but which was not surprising. Her speech is very energetic and animated as she related tales from her past. Molly is a very special part of Farm Sanctuary. As the Intern Coordinator, she is not only responsible for task assignments and scheduling, but she is also responsible for young adults for whom the internship represents their first time away from home. I have to believe that this is a challenge, even with the sense of purpose that working on the Farm provides.
Talking with Ashley was a little different. As we talked, I couldn't stop thinking about how my life might have been different if I, like her, had been involved in this cause a lot earlier. I have to believe that my path would have been a lot different. These are dangerous thoughts to have and I worked to purge them while at the same time respecting her for the choices she had made. I do not imagine most twenty-one year olds having the awareness and level of concern for things other than themselves. I listened intently as she talked about the lessons that she had learned from the animals, such as how to be comfortable in one's own skin and how to find celebration in the simple, and wonder in the ordinary. A love for animals is not something that you can fake. It is not in the words, but rather in the eyes as those words are being spoken and I could see that Ashley had it in spades. I let her know how much I respected that and how much I appreciated the work that she did for my friends here, both in terms of their daily care as well as in educating people.
As our conversation was wrapping up, Indran stepped through the door to ask if I wanted to help with hay feeds. I had never done this before, and like a game of "Farm Bingo", I was eager to mark it off on my card. We hopped into the Mule and headed down to the Hay Barn. When we arrived there, Indran backed the Mule into the barn next to the hay bales and began climbing to the top to toss some down. At first I thought, "Wouldn't it be easier to get the bales from the bottom", but it only took a moment to realize that the bales served as steps, and if the lower steps were removed, there would be no way to get to the upper bales. It was yet another example of simple logic on the farm.
Now I don't feel like it makes me less of a man to admit that the hay bales were heavy. The truth is that they were a lot heavier than the straw that I had been struggling with the day before. I was able to get the first two, of six, into the flat-bed of the Mule unassisted, using a technique reminiscent of the "belly-to-belly suplex" I remembered from watching pro-wrestling as a kid (In all honesty, I watched pro-wrestling as an adult too, but by then this particular move had fallen out of favor). The third one had broken its twine during the drop from the stack, so it required both of us to lift it. As for the stacking of the second tier, neither of us were able to chuck those up there on our own so we worked together. When we got back into the Mule to drive back to the cows, I looked down at the multiple scratches and mini-puncture wounds along my forearms and felt like a real rookie.
Upon our return to the cattle pasture there were a lot of people around the fence, apparently waiting to watch the hay feed. Indran briefed me on the procedure. I was to climb on top of the hay on the back of the mule and toss flakes of hay to the cows as he drove us around. This sounds easy enough so I climbed to the top and he cut the twine on two of the top bales. The third bale would remain intact, for now, to provide me with a stable platform from which to work.
Our presence immediately interested the cows (Who'd have thought they'd be motivated by food), who challenged my notion that my position was stable. For whatever reason, they were not content to wait for me to throw the food down and decided instead that they wanted to eat from the bale I was sitting atop. Cows are amazingly strong and I was glad when Indran started to drive. As he drove, I tossed flake after flake out the back to the cows that were in pursuit. With each flake tossed, a cow or two would drop out of the chase and stop to eat. After doing a couple figure-eights in the pasture, I asked Indran for his knife to cut the twine on the third and fourth bales. After doing so, I put it in my pocket, fearing that I would somehow drop it and the cows would inadvertently eat it. A true "Friend of Farm Animals" does not let something like that happen.
Once all of the cows in that pasture were fed, we moved over to the geriatric herd. Norman, Lester, Hank, and Joannie looked at us as soon as we arrived and the latter three began their march to food. I pulled off half a bale and broke it up for them to eat. Norman was a bit on the slow side this morning. All of the geriatric herd, in which geriatric is more of a description of physical condition rather than age, have some degree of arthritis and Norman's was keeping him from making the brisk strides that the others were demonstrating. The small crowd at the fence was beseeching me to hurry and bring him some food. "He's so hungry" and "Please don't keep him waiting", was all that I could hear as I trudged down to Norman with half a bale of hay, an exercise that was particularly tricky without any twine holding it together over my twenty-five yard trek. People cheered when I dropped the hay at his feet and spread it out, but at first he didn't look at it. Instead, he seemed to look me over as if to say, "You're not the regular waiter". After what seemed like an eternity, particularly with people watching and waiting for him to eat, Norman took a big sniff of the hay and tucked in. Mission accomplished!
With hay feeds completed, it was time to talk to people some more. My fellow visitors were now coming in to spend more time with the animals. I talked to one young lady about Bonnie's story and answered her questions about volunteering at the Farm. It turned out that she was involved in a youth group and I encouraged that she talk to Sophia about possible team volunteer efforts. I pointed to the play gym in what is normally the sheep and goat area, and where Whitaker was once again sulking, as an example of a team project from the previous year. Since this was a "tour" and not just a meet and greet, Jess, one of the new tour guides, interrupted the conversation to tell us it was time to move on.
As we walked up to the sheep and goats, another couple, who recognized me from the night before, asked me questions about how I deal with hostile reactions to my lifestyle choices. I explained that I really haven't encountered anything that I would characterize as hostile, but that there are a lot of people who have the impression that Vegans are hypocritical. They point to the medical breakthroughs that have involved animal testing. They point to the fact that even products that do not test on animals contain chemicals and solutions that were tested on animals. I recalled a heckler during the Walk for Farm Animals who had made similar comments, and I said that my best recommendation is to not provide them with any ammunition for that line of attack. I pointed to my hemp shoes, my rubber belt, and told the story of my car. All of these things were important to me, but they also helped to keep me above reproach when people looked for ways to undermine my position in these personal attacks. And I explained, there is always the "disengage option" when people are clearly not open to truth. This is not a coward's option, but rather a means of avoiding futility and de-escalating a conflict. I also talked about being subtle rather than "in your face" and how this had provided me with opportunities to talk with people who may not have been open to having their worldviews directly challenged. A couple of people told me that they would try my "T-Shirt Fridays" approach in their workplace, and I was pretty happy to see this ripple effect and wished them good luck with this.
As we walked into the sheep and goat pasture, another couple asked me if there were any sheep or goats I would recommend. Of course, I felt obliged to lead them to Coco and Melvin. We found Melvin first and I told his story of hardship and redemption. Everyone always comments on how cute his face is, and like a proud adoptive parent, I bask in their praise of my "goat son". When we found Coco, she was not quite as eager to be petted as she was earlier in the morning. This is often the case with the goats and sheep. While they are accustomed to people, large groups of people tend to drive them to the far end of the pasture. Rather than chase her down, we sat and watched her eating and talked about her story. Reminiscent of the Walk for Farm Animals where I was assigned to the information booth, I felt like a real ambassador and I was reveling in the feeling. When Ady came over and nudged me with his nose, it was a perfect moment. I felt like Saint Francis of Assisi, surrounded by animals and love. The fact that other people saw this show of affection made it even more poignant.
Before long, Jess stopped by again to let us know that it was time to move on. When the time had come to leave the sheep and goats, I was once again forced to end a discourse on my feelings about Farm Sanctuary. I had talked a lot today and had loved it. The world currently has far too few people who "get it" and it is nice to spend time with a concentration of those who do. As we made our way to the gate, I saw a group of folks around Molly the goat. Apparently Molly had bumped into one of the small children and knocked him over. While I wasn't there to see that, I imagined that this event may leave an impression on the youngster and I wanted to ensure that it was a good one and not a bad one. I got his attention, as well as that of the rest of the group, by pointing out that Molly had probably been trying to play a game with him. It was a special goat game that she only played with special people. I then proceeded to demonstrate Molly's game by firmly placing my hands on Molly's head. For a brief moment, I thought I would look pretty stupid if Molly chose not to play and I recognized that I was taking a bit of a gamble. Those thoughts were dispelled almost immediately though when Molly began pushing back. As I back-pedaled across the field in circles, she pushed and pushed and even obliged us with letting her tongue hang out. Several of the on-lookers also played the game with Molly. When Jess came to remind us it was time to go, I felt a little guilty, but in the grand scheme of things, I felt like I had taken a moment that may have been scary for the child and might have made the parents and on-lookers apprehensive, and turned it into a magical opportunity for interaction. This five minute demonstration had shown irrefutable proof of the unique personality of this wonderful creature and had proven that she enjoyed play. These are both things that make the animals so much more relatable and it is, in my opinion, an incredible message.
With the tour winding down and the day coming to an end, I made one last round of offers for assistance. It had been a truly special weekend and I was really not ready for it to end and to have to return to my real world. After exhausting options for assistance, I decided it was time to hit the road. My heart was full of wonderful experiences with the animals and the people who had come to enjoy their company. While I don't recall names, I had been recharged by some discussions with some really nice people who care about the things I care about. It was as good a time as any to hit the road and head back home. Driving down the dusty road and through the Farm Sanctuary gates, I was already mentally planning my next visit...which was to come sooner than I had expected.
The next morning, as I got ready for work, I went through the ritual of transferring the contents of my packets from my shorts to my jeans. Wallet, check. Comb, check. Phone, check. Keys, check. Indran's knife...uh, oh! What the heck was that doing there? At near light speed, my memory took me back to the moment on the back of the "Mule" where I had borrowed his knife to cut the twine on the last bale of hay - and then put it in my pocket. Finding his knife wouldn't have been a huge deal if not for the fact that his keys were attached to it. I saw what seemed to be his car key and his house key. Oh crap! I can't believe I kept his keys. How did he get home? Where did he stay the night? How long did he look for them before realizing that I had probably inadvertently borrowed them? Would my "Friend of Farm Animals" award be revoked for such an idiotic move? Would I need to have my packets checked by at least two people after any future visits? I hurried to my computer room to e-mail Sophia a message for Indran since I didn't have any way to reach him. That limitation was quickly removed when my e-mail informed me I had a message from him. My mind scrambled as I tried to write a quick response. I let him know first and foremost that I did indeed have his keys and I offered to send them to him FedEx Priority Overnight and encouraged him to call me on my cell phone if he needed to. With that, I was off to work. When I got to the end of our cul de sac, I knew what I had to do. Friends don't make other friends pay for their mistakes. While I was sure that someone else could give him a ride and that he could probably stay at the Vegan House or the Guest Cabin, it didn't feel right.
I used the three hour drive to Orland to think over some strategic matters I had been trying to avoid dealing with at work. The clarity provided by the open road allowed me the distraction free time to do what I probably could not have done in the office under the circumstances (Hence my delay in doing it previously). When I pulled into the Farm after what seemed like a very short drive, relatively, I felt like I was coming home. I briefly pondered staying there and not coming back that day, but that wasn't my mission for today. I met Bethany near the office and she told me that Indran was in the Pig Barn. I said "Hi" to Blossom, Penny, and Foofy on my way up the dirt path. At the Pig Barn, I apologized for not remembering to give his keys back and asked about whether he had needed to stay at a hotel so I could reimburse him for it. It turned out that my suspicion was right; he had stayed at the Guest Cabin. He was shocked to see me there as was Molly when I ran into her in the Main Office before getting a wet snout kiss from Blossom and heading back to the office and my real world before the gravity of the Farm made this impossible.
My shortest farm visit may seem ridiculous or unnecessary to most who hear of it. After all six hours of driving and two tanks of gas could have been avoided by just sending the knife and keys. My experiences at the Farm continue to teach me volumes about who I am. I believe that all men quest for the answer to the question: "What kind of man am I?" Some go into business to find out. Some join the military to find out. If I trust the movies, some join the French Foreign Legion, to find out. Many, unfortunately, will never know. I know now that I am not the type of man who lets a little challenge or difficulty keep him from doing what he thinks is the right thing to do. I am not the type of man who lets his friends down when it can be avoided. I am indeed a Friend of Farm Animals and to those who serve in this noble cause, and I can be proud of the man that I have become!
