I have only been home for about an hour and I am already missing my friends at the Farm Sanctuary in Orland. This last trip was different from my previous ones in that it would cover two days and would involve some volunteering. I had wanted to volunteer for a while now, but had been under the impression that this required a minimum one month commitment and, while I would love to do it, my schedule would not support it.
This trip had felt like somewhat of a gamble. On the one hand it was the week between two major holidays, Christmas and New Year, and I was worried that my presence would be an imposition on a skeleton crew. The second gamble was the weather. My trips to the Farm Sanctuary have ranged from the scorching, arid hot to the bitter, but dry cold. This time it was looking like I might be introduced to "Dry Cold's" brother, "Wet Cold". The forecast did not look particularly good as I made preps on Monday for my trip. But, what is life if you don't take chances, and it's not like the Sanctuary closes if it rains. The animals still need their food, water, and tender loving care.
My upbringing taught me that you should always bring a gift if you are visiting someone, so I referenced my recently received (Actually I got it on Monday - Talk about timely!) adoption newsletter for items that were needed. While I certainly trust the organization to spend any donations I can make wisely, it is still nice to actually buy items myself. So I set off to the local tack store for brushes and bedding, and to Target for sunscreen, protective masks, flashlights, and work gloves. After loading that and my luggage into my "road trip car" (Not the Hyundai), I was just an early morning wake-up away from starting my voyage.
The alarm came early at 5 AM. I never cease to wonder why this feels so much earlier when it is announced by the alarm clock than it does when I just naturally awake at this time (Or have a "dog-assisted" wake-up), as is normally the case on weekends. Luckily for me, it was easily cured by taking a shower and, after saying goodbye to a previously snoring Lori, I was off.
I figured that the three hour drive would be a perfect time to break out the books-on-CD that I had won in the "Thanksgiving for the Turkeys" auction, and I chose to listen to "Rescue Ink" first. It was an interesting documentary about a group of hard-nosed, tattooed, bikers who found a shared purpose in animal advocacy. When I am driving, I have to admit that anything I am listening to is generally just "back ground" noise, but in this case I did enjoy the majority of what I was hearing. After three CD changes, I was at Exit 619 and it was time to get off the freeway and continue down the country route for the last few miles.
About a mile down the road, I heard a thunk on the front of my car. Looking in the rear-view mirror, my heart sank. Every time I have come to the farm I have always been afraid of the little song birds who hang about in the bushes and seem to enjoy daring each other to dart out in front of passing cars. My heart had sunk at the fact that the object I saw in my mirror looked to be about the size of a small bird. I located a drive-way that would allow me to turn around and go back. As I got closer, I could see that there was something in the road, and I pulled over to the side. I breathlessly approached the small shape and my eyes welled up as I got closer. I had hit a bird and he was lying in the road. The brief spark of hope that appeared in my heart was rapidly extinguished as I picked his body up and there was no movement and only dark glassy eyes. My mind went back to the last time that I knowingly had killed an animal on the road, the fateful squirrel who caused me to reassess my life and make changes. I carried his tiny broken body to the side of the road and set him down long enough to dig a hole in the dirt and gravel. I held him for about minute, hoping beyond hope that he would wake with a start and fly away, but he did not. I gently laid him down in his final resting spot and watched for several seconds to ensure he was gone. I told him I was sorry and covered up his body and said goodbye. This was not how my trip was supposed to go and I would personally rather block it out, but to do so would not be an honest retelling of the story. The best I could do at this point was to dedicate my work on the farm to his memory.
The seven remaining minutes of my trip didn't provide any buffer to my emotions, but I decided, for the time being, that retelling my story would not provide any purpose other than to hope someone would reaffirm that this does not make me a bad person. Time to put on a brave face!
After parking at the People Barn (I wasn't sure if volunteers could park in the lot near the main office), I collected my gifts and collected myself and walked to the main office where I hoped to find Leanne. From nine to eleven, I would be spending time with my adopted farm family, and then I would start my volunteer day. I found Leanne quite easily and dropped off the things that I had brought with me. After a quick trip to the bathroom, we were off to see Coco. I think I have mentioned before that Coco and I have an agreement that I will always try to see her first. This is somewhat hard to do since she is in the back "Rescue Barn", but I do make sure that she is the first one that I pet. I have told Coco's story before so I will not repeat it again, other than to say that she continues to be inspiring. She is living with the special needs sheep now due to a health issue that I can't remember the name of, but which requires her to be segregated from the other goats. On the one hand, I would tend to think that Coco can't seem to catch a break, but on the other hand, she is in the best place she can be today and she has recovered so much more than anyone would have predicted, so I expect to keep seeing more of her on my future trips. She was very friendly and let me hug on her and pet her to my heart's content. She has the cutest face and she melts everyone who meets her or sees her on-line. She is a wonderful ambassador for goat-kind, and for the cause. I explained to Leanne the special place that Coco has for me and then we let her get back to her grazing. As I mentioned before, she is with the special needs sheep, which includes Elton who is blind. While he gets by amazingly well, unfamiliar noises and, I expect unfamiliar scents, can be a little disconcerting to him and I am sensitive to the fact that I am a visitor in his home, and I do not want to cause him any worries.
Having met my obligation to meet with Coco first, we moved on to Isabelle. It was reported that she had been having some difficulty walking so she was in an isolation pen in the small barn in the duck habitat. Fortunately she seemed to be doing better and was moving about quite well and eating. This was the closest that I had ever been able to get to Isabelle and I was very happy to actually be able to stroke her back and feel a connection with her that went beyond just watching her from a distance. Her feathers seemed a bit darker than before, prompting me to ask questions about whether their coloring changed during the seasons. Isabelle was the second blind farm animal that I had seen today, and she is an example of the adaptability and resilience that they possess. After she was released from the monitoring pen, she returned to her regular enclosure. I have seen her navigate this, including the water, and it seems that she has a very good mental map of her surroundings. Watching her move about is reminiscent of my Aunt Judy in her apartment. She is also blind, but has a very detailed sense of her surroundings and remembers where things have been put and catalogued. Unlike me, I suspect that she rarely, if ever, forgets where she has put her keys.
Once our visit with Isabelle was done, I briefly spotted Indigo in the adjacent area with his harem of hens. He is a beautiful rooster with salt and pepper flecked feathers and is typically darting about in rapid bursts, as if constantly checking to make sure that everything is okay. As luck would have it, I would have more chances to spend time with him later in my trip. As we made our way to the "pig pond", I also caught a glimpse of Penny, so we stopped by to pay her a visit. There she was with her friendly little duck face and tail wagging. It is always dangerous to assign animal behavior human equivalents, or even other animal equivalents, but I like to believe that her tail wagging means the same as my dog Heidi's and that it indicates she is happy. She and the other ducks waddled about their area as I was told tales of Penny's forays into escape artistry. Apparently she recent took to the air and flew off for a bit. Many of the birds at Farm Sanctuary can and do fly, but I think they know that they have a good thing going and aren't interested in blowing it. Watching their interactions, I also suspect that they would miss each other if they were gone for too long. I didn't know it at the time, but I would also be spending more time with her and her friends during this visit.
Moving on to the pig pastures I had the chance to see a variety of behaviors ranging from snuffling, to napping, to dreaming, to "pig greetings". My jeans quickly bore souvenirs of this via muddy snout prints. Once contact is made with the first pig, the others quickly become curious. As if suspecting that they are missing out on special treats, those in visual/hearing range begin to meander over to check things out. Since a new pasture had recently been open for exploring, there were several pigs that were currently oblivious to our presence, so we would have to go to them. Even though I have visited the pigs on a number of occasions now, I still find their size to be amazing. This can be quite overwhelming at first, and can be a little worrisome when you are between a couple who decide to compete for attention but, as with crowds of people, awareness is the key to reducing anxiety. We stopped and visited with several of the pigs including Lucas, Linus, Rosa, and Lassen, and several of them seemed to be on the verge of lying down to get a belly rub, but I guess my technique still needs some refinement.
Recognizing that Leanne's time was limited and that my transition from visitor to volunteer was looming, we made some quick visits to the turkey girls to see Amelinda (She and Allie were both willing to be petted briefly) and Boe. One of Boe's friends, Amy, had recently passed away and she is now living with another rabbit, who came to the sanctuary at the same time as Amy after being rescued from a "backyard butcher", a duck named Stella, and an occasional cat visitor. While traditional thinking would not consider these to be compatible buddies, the Sanctuary continues to reveal its magic in these odd couplings.
During all of my visits, it has been clear that there is never enough time to spend with all of the animals. The last visit for the day was with the geriatric cows. Hank, Norman, and Lester were in their pasture in a small cluster eating hay. These older “gentlemen” seem to be a pretty close-knit herd. Their years have mellowed them out and petting them doesn’t faze them at all. Upon close examination, their sense of community is immediately evident in the grooming marks they have on parts of their sides that they couldn’t possibly reach themselves. This means that they have been grooming each other with their tongues, which is a sweet testament to their caring for each other. After doling out equal attention, it was time for the volunteer day to officially start.
Since it was around lunch-time, there was some uncertainty as to where to start. It was decided that I would start by checking with Ben, one of the full-time workers, when he came back from the pasture. In the meantime, I bundled up a small stack of boxes with twine in preparation for recycling. Having completed this in short order, I chatted with the juvenile turkeys until the sounds of Ben returning on the tractor were audible in the distance. Since Ben was wrapping up before lunch, he didn’t have anything for me to help with, so I checked back with Leanne. Next on the task list was produce preparation. This is a special treat for the animals and there was an itemized list of produce for each of the animals that needed to be followed closely in order to ensure that their dietary needs weren’t compromised. Additionally, there were special requirements for cutting in order to make sure that the pieces were small enough for one of the piggies. According to the sheet of paper, Fergus likes to stuff his wee mouth a bit too much, and needs to have small pieces to protect the little guy from himself.
For the next hour or so, I demonstrated my proficiency (Or lack thereof, depending on one’s perspective) in cutting carrots, lettuce, celery, tomatoes (Actually I sucked at this, but I blame the knives), cucumbers, and squash. The carefully cut and measured food was transferred to individual buckets. For the pigs, there was also a cocktail of banana peels, apples, and peppers. One of the interns, Karen, joined me during the produce preparation, so the pace picked up a bit and I learned some techniques through observation. She also shared some stories about my adopted pig Ramona, who was also an accomplished escape artist. Apparently Karen once forgot to latch the gate and Ramona took advantage of this error and ran off before being enticed back to her home. On every subsequent visit from Karen, Ramona checks the gate for an opportunity to make a run for it.
After cleaning up the knives and cutting board, there was a welcome break from cutting. The food processor was broken out in order to prepare the produce for the chickens and turkeys. If someone was floating above the prep area, I am sure it would have been amusing to watch two people who were not familiar with food processors trying to get this one working. There was a lot of button pushing and pleading before it occurred to me that a device that consists primarily of a spinning razor sharp blade probably has some safety switches and interlocks. A quick inspection of the assembly revealed some magnetic switches, which explained the problems we were having. The orientation of the hopper on the base needed to be rotated 180 degrees. Now we were in business! This was so much quicker than my manual cutting. Feeding lettuce, kale, and tomatoes into the processor was actually pretty fun. The last thing we needed to do before lunch was to hard-boil some eggs. The unfertilized eggs come from the resident chickens, and they are consumed to help replenish the calcium and other nutrients that egg laying depletes. The layer hens at Farm Sanctuary do not have to lay eggs anymore, but there isn’t a switch that can be turned off, so they keep laying. While it seems odd at first, the egg eating keeps them healthy. I volunteered to run up to the turkey ladies barn to get two eggs. One of the eggs was normal sized, and the other was a smaller egg from Silky the hen. Walking back to the barn, I was conscious of how delicate these eggs were, particularly Silky’s, and was relieved to get them back to the office unbroken.
As I returned to the office I saw Karen and she said it was time to distribute the produce treats that I had cut up earlier in the day. That sounded great to me! First up were the pigs: Ramona, Mathilda, Kiwi, Rusty, and Fergus. I helped pour the food from the buckets into the individual bowls before we entered the main barn floor. The pigs knew exactly what we were doing, and to say that they were excited would be an unbelievable understatement. They were grunting and making a huge ruckus that intensified by the second. After watching Karen expertly separate Rusty from Kiwi and Fergus, it was time to start laying down the bowls. While Karen fed Rusty, Kiwi, and Fergus I carried food bowls in for Mathilda and Ramona, who share a pen and pasture. Mathilda is much bigger than Ramona, so I was glad to see that Ramona was in the barn and Mathilda was napping in the pasture beyond the pond. Ramona quickly made a rush for the first bowl and I walked out to feed Mathilda. “Mathilda”, I called as I got closer, wanting to make sure I didn’t surprise her. Her back was against a fence surrounding a tree (To prevent the large animals from destroying the small sapling), and she appeared to be dreaming. She woke up as I got closer, but she seemed to be having some trouble getting up. Since I knew she had a history of seizures, I was worried and called Karen over to check her. She soon got up and it seemed in retrospect that she had semi-wedged herself into the fence which was the cause of her difficulty. She quickly took to her food, so it was clear that she was fine. Of course, by this time Ramona had finished her food, so she was on her way to check out Mathilda’s. Wanting to avoid a confrontation, I used a slice of carrot to entice Ramona back to the barn, where I noted that there was still food in her bowl. After pointing this out, she cleaned her bowl while I scratched her back and rubbed her bristly fur.
After only a matter of minutes, the bowls were “clean” and it was time to retrieve them and actually clean them. We did so outside of the barn using a hose to flush and rinse them before leaving them on the counter to dry. Walking back to the main office from the Rescue Barn, it was noticeable that it was a little cooler than when we had started the feeding, and the signs that rain was on the way were all the more ominous.
It was time for Karen to go to lunch and since I often skip lunch due to my work schedule, I saw this as an opportunity to get some more visiting time with my animal friends. I had not had the opportunity to spend time with Whitaker or Bonnie yet on this trip, and the fact that they were both in the same pasture together was particularly enticing. Karen told me that it was okay to go into the pasture, but recommended that I not approach any of the other cows since some of them may not be as accustomed to people. She showed me how to get into the pasture and, more importantly, how to close the gate behind me to make sure that there wouldn’t be any escapes.
Waylon, Bonnie’s donkey friend, was the first animal in my path so I petted him for a while and thanked him for looking after Bonnie. Bonnie had moved quite a bit since I had seen her earlier in the day which was really nice to see considering how difficult it used to be for her to walk. As with Coco, Bonnie is not the same donkey that I originally met at Farm Sanctuary back in June, 2009. Her condition has improved so much. Her winter coat is so soft and I helped remove some burrs that she had picked up while grazing. I told her what a pretty donkey she is and stroked her muzzle and nose for several minutes before letting her get back to the green grass that was so tantalizing at her feet.
About twenty feet away I could see Whitaker. He is a very handsome calf with an adorable face that has made him an ideal poster boy for the cause. His sweet appearance hides a bit of a mischievous streak that goes with being the youngest member of his herd. While he is certainly small compared to the rest of the cows, he is much bigger than he used to be and his playful streak can be a little dangerous. I have to admit that I was a little nervous approaching him on my own, but I couldn’t resist him, particularly since my last visit with him was so short because he was a bit too feisty. Making eye contact with Whitaker was the first step and he watched me as I got closer. He was lying down so I sat beside him and I offered my hand for him to sniff and he gave it a gentle lick – well as gentle as a cow tongue can be. Starting with his right side, I began to rub his fur and scratch his skin. Whitaker, much like my dog Heidi when I find a particularly nice scratching spot, decided to get in on the action as well and he craned his neck to lick his side. It was picture perfect until I was startled by some hot breath on my neck. Karen's warning flashed into my mind as I turned my head to see who was there. It was my old buddy Phoenix, and he was just saying hi. He and I hung out for a couple minutes and during that time Whitaker stood up and started eating some grass nearby. Phoenix also turned his attention back to the grass, so I apologized to Whitaker for my abrupt absence and he seemed to be okay with it. After a few minutes of stroking though he decided it was head-butting time. As Karen had instructed, I said a firm, “No”, and walked away. I decided to do this at an angle in order to make it harder for him to give chase. He wanted to play though, and he even kicked up his heels in zest. After moving about ten feet away, I saw his sad doe eyes and walked back towards him. We repeated this process several times, each involving more petting prior to Whitaker getting playful. With each cycle I became more and more comfortable with Whitaker and my ability to handle him. When he decided it was time to eat some more grass, I decided to say my goodbyes and walk to the gate. Whitaker abandoned his grass and followed me to the fence. After jumping over the fence, in order to avoid any chance that I may incorrectly latch the gate, I felt Whitaker’s puppy dog eyes burning into my back. I felt obliged to go back and pet him some more over the fence and he rewarded me with more licking. Once again Whitaker began to graze and I took my leave and walked away. Ouch, there goes that burning again! After the third time I decided that I had to get back to the volunteering so I resisted the urge to look back.
Once people started filtering back in from lunch, I was assigned to help Rachel with feeding the Santa Cruz sheep, the chickens, and the turkeys. If there is one constant in the world it is that every creature gets excited about feeding time. Some of us may be a bit better at concealing this excitement, but the animals at Farm Sanctuary have no time for such pretense. The first drips of a winter shower did little to dampen their spirits. The sheep were a bit sheepish (That's two bad puns already in this one paragraph), but as we moved back they took to the bowls with gusto. The turkey girls were also eager and it was funny to listen to then go to town on their bowls. It sounded like a rain storm on a tin roof as they pecked out every molecule of food from the trays. This went on for several minutes as we moved on to the chickens, who were also quick to gobble (Ah I missed a pun "hat-trick" opportunity there - I should have used that with the turkeys) up every morsel. Everyone seemed quite excited about the produce, which was a special bonus to the normal feed. Last up were the turkey ladies and the special needs chickens that live with them. Olive was the first to greet us there followed by a quickly darting Silky, who looks like she is wearing feather slippers and a "too-cool-for-school" hair-do. As they tucked in, it was time to start making the rounds to pick up the bowls and clean them, starting with the sheep, and then following the same order in which the food was laid down. Unfortunately there were no remarks of, "Compliments to the Chef", but I sincerely think they were appreciative.
As my day on the farm came to an end at four PM, I headed back to the hotel and sought out the Farwood Restaurant that had been recommended by Molly. She had mentioned that they had a Vegan menu available on request, and she was right. The food was excellent and this gave me an idea to ask about Vegan options at other restaurants, even if they are not on the menu. Even if they don't have anything today, if they get asked enough things may change in the tomorrows to come. As I reflected on the day gone by and tried to ignore the fact that I was the only solo diner, I was truly happy with my lot in life. This trip had been my Christmas present to myself, and I had chosen wisely.
Doing my part to avoid waste, I dutifully cleaned as much of my plate as I could before heading back to the hotel for an early end to the day. The early morning start combined with a long day had taken their toll, and I knew the wake-up call would be coming before I knew it.
As predicted, six AM came sooner than I would have liked, but there is something about the outlook for the day that makes it more bearable than my normal work day. That, combined with the lack of "Bay Area Commute", made for a good start to the morning. When I arrived, Leanne was already there tending to the turkey babies, so I cut up some produce for the male turkeys, Gobbell and Gideon, until Kerrie arrived. That was when the real work of the day began.
With the sun starting to brighten the sky from below the horizon, we set out to the Turkey Barn to get our rakes, straw (Or was it hay...or is straw hay - Guess I better Google that later), and garbage cans. The chicken coop was first on the list, followed by the Turkey Girls' barn, the Turkey Ladies' barn, the rabbit hutches, the duck yard, and the rescue chicken barn. I marveled about how much more satisfying this was than my typical day of dealing with customer support issues. Unlike my customers, who are constantly upset (Often rightly so) about the fact that their million dollar machines aren't working, there weren't any dissatisfied customers here. Well, I take that back; the ducks thought I could have finished a lot faster if I had more practice, and I committed to work on that.
Since our final cleaning was the Chicken Hospital Barn, and since my adopted rooster Indigo was there, Kerrie recommended that we make them a treat. She said that they normally get to have some of Gobbell's leftover produce, so they should enjoy it. It would also give me some close-up time with Indigo. We cut up a bowl of fruit and vegetables and Kerrie was right, they loved it. In my pre-Farm Sanctuary days, it would have never occurred to me that chickens eat fruit and lettuce, but now I know better.
Working together, Kerrie and I had completed the clean-up tasks much sooner than normal, so there was a bit of a limbo period between jobs. I spent some time talking to Coco over the fence and watching the other goats while Kerrie had lunch. After about an hour, I headed back to the barn and found Leanne out front. Feeling guilty for taking lunch off to hang out with Coco, I asked if there was anything else I could help with. After some pondering, she pointed to some of the crates that had recently been used for animal transport and to the portable pen that had been Isabelle's home when I saw her the day before, and asked if I would mind cleaning them. Just as I was saying, "no problem", Kerrie came out from lunch and offered to take me to visit with Coco and Whitaker some more. I couldn't resist, but I promised that I would return to clean the crates and pen before the day was done.
Coco was chilling in the pasture near the rescue barn when we got there, and she thwarted my attempts to get a video of her by following the camera and trying to get a super-close-up. With the camera stowed away, she seemed more willing to be petted and Kerrie and I sat and watched her go about her business in the pasture. Poor Kerrie had to listen to me ramble on and on for the third time to three people in two days about how special Coco is to me. As special as she is to me, I know from listening to Kerrie that she has a very close bond to her as well, and that makes me feel really good for Coco. Her goat ambassadorship to the hearts of her visitors and care-takers has a profound effect. After saying my goodbyes with a handful of alfalfa, we moved on with a promise to come back soon.
My last visit for the trip would be with Whitaker. He was on his best behavior and, other than a curiosity about my jacket pocket contents, he was mellow and sweet. Kerrie filmed me hanging out with him for about ten minutes before I remembered that I had some unfinished work to do, and I suspected that I was probably taking up Kerrie's time as well. So, after my last goodbye of the day, we were heading back to the Main Office.
Suffice it to say that whoever created these travel crates and portable pens failed to design them for ease of cleaning. Even if they had been more thoughtful in this area, I suspect they wouldn't have factored in trying to clean the nooks and crannies with a hose and brush in the mud. I suspect that an entrepreneurial individual with a video camera could have filmed my comedy of errors, sold it, and made enough to pay the farm's FY10 budget. Oh well, that's a missed opportunity I guess. I am glad to say that I finished slightly before four PM, so I met my commitment.
As the day wrapped up for me, I thanked Leanne and Kerrie for hosting me and started the drive home. As I got down the end of the driveway I was shocked to hear my phone ring. I wouldn't have thought I would have reception here. As it turns out, I barely had a bar and it was from a "Private" number, which generally means my boss, so it was with some trepidation that I answered. Imagine my surprise to hear the caller identify himself as Gene Baur. We played a brief game of, "Can you hear me now?" as I frantically sought higher ground that may provide better reception. This was not a call that I wanted to have drop! Gene had called to thank me for my support of Farm Sanctuary, which I thought was really cool. Without getting overly dramatic, Farm Sanctuary's message is somewhat of a religious one for me and is the something that I really believe in. To get a personal call from Gene was like having my hero call me out of the blue. I was very touched, so much so that I can't really remember what I said or whether it was intelligible or not. Well, regardless, I know that whatever I said was probably from the heart. As I drove the approximately 200 miles home, I did so with a full heart and new cherished memories of the Farm, my animal friends, and their dedicated caretakers.
