In the spirit of Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, I decided it would be a good opportunity to do some volunteering on behalf of the previously oppressed. The fact that this was a chance to get back to the "Happiest Place on Earth" (No, not Disneyland!) for me was purely a nice coincidence. Unfortunately, the Friday before my trip I began to get the sniffles. After sneezing a few too many times at work, I decided to leave a half-hour early and try to get some rest. Why does this always seem to happen when I have something special coming up?
Imagine my frustration when Saturday came along and I was feeling worse. I cancelled some commitments I had made, and resolved to spend the day in bed, drinking copious amounts of orange juice and any other juice I could get my hands on. There was only one thing on my mind; I had to get better before Sunday morning. I would like to be able to say that I followed my "prescription" to a T, but by evening I was getting a bit restless and I decided to go out for a bit.
I had wanted to get something for the farm, but I couldn't think of anything specific. And then it hit me. Actually it had hit me back on December 6th, 2009. You may recall my previous tale of that visit and cutting up fruits and vegetables for my buddies. Now I am the first to admit that I am not a master with the blade, but I generally don't pose a threat to myself or anyone nearby. As Jenna and I were cutting up treats - snap - the knife blade snapped off the handle and popped right up towards my face. It should be known that I have terrible eye reflexes, as evidenced by a childhood in eye patches, so it was clearly a higher power protecting me that day as the blade grazed my skin and fell back on the counter. Jenna had seen this transpire and was a little concerned, but we shrugged it off and went back to business.
Farm Sanctuary Orland needs a new knife set! It was clear as day. While I hadn't experienced any subsequent mishaps in my later visits, the combination of my near injury, and the excessive sawing required to cut a tomato, provided some inspiration. Unfortunately, the store didn't have any of those nifty Ginsu knives that can cut cans and nails (I can't remember what I did yesterday, but I remember those darn commercials), but they had some decent looking ones that were all cast from a single piece of stainless steel stock. The handles wouldn't have a chance to break on these, and I imagined they could be cleaned very easily. Cool, now back to bed, but not before a weather check for Orland. Great, it was as close as you can get to a guarantee of rain. I sure hope I get better overnight!
A couple shots of Nyquil (Am I the only one who kinda likes the taste of the green stuff?), and sleep came pretty easy. Before I knew it the alarm clock was going off and I started my morning health assessment. Throat - dry and a little sore. Nose - mildly runny, but nothing Afrin couldn't fix. Head - minor sinus headache. All in all, I wasn't feeling too bad and I certainly wasn't going to break my commitment. I hadn't had a cold in a while so I was dismayed to find out that most of our meds were gel-caps. I guess I can't take those. Finally I settled on Sudafed, since it was the only one without gelatin, and popped a few before tossing the rest in my suitcase.
The drive was nice and easy as is normally the case this early on a Sunday morning. The weather was true to form and there was no hint of the normally beautiful sunrise on my way. I was on pace to arrive early, until I made the mistake of stopping for gas. Actually, I guess my mistake was not getting gas before I started my trip, but that was now in the past. The Shell station that I stopped at looked nice enough, but once I started pumping gas, the nozzle kept kicking off. In order to keep filling, I had to squeeze the handle at a rate of about one gallon a minute. Seriously! One would think I would be familiar enough with the drive by now to know where the next station was, but I couldn't muster a good mental picture. After thinking for a couple minutes, I was committed. I had already come this far, three gallons, might as well finish up. Argh! Ten minutes later I was back on the road and the GPS was telling me I would get there at 8:58. That was only two minutes early; not nearly enough for me. Getting back to the GPS, next time I should probably consult it, instead of my memory, when I am trying to figure out if there is another gas station within range of my meager fuel reserve. Oh well.
As I got closer to Farm Sanctuary, I saw the pleasant sights of more humane chicken farming. Now I don't like any farming that results in a chicken being killed, but on the scale of relativity it was nice to at least see that these chickens were allowed to really be free-range. It was a scene reminiscent of the section in Omnivore's Dilemma where the author describes a trip to Polyface Farms. Once again, I do not agree with any type of farming that involves animal suffering in life or in death, but the book tells of this farm's attempts for sustainable farming and a focus on natural behaviors. As I looked at the portable chicken coops and the chickens with their feet on the grass, pecking and scratching, I felt more hope that things may be changing in the world. These chickens will still face a cruel death, but they will at least have the chance to be a chicken while they are alive. It is somewhat tragic to take comfort in such things, but it was better than the alternative.
Pulling into the Farm Sanctuary driveway, I saw something that was a little more disconcerting. The gate was closed! I had never seen the gate closed in any of my previous trips, and I wasn't sure what this meant. Had they forgotten I was coming? I didn't have the number for the office, so I hoped that the faded paper on the gate may have some instructions. Fortunately for me, it did. The gate was closed because there were animals in the pasture, and luckily it wasn't locked. So much for getting there at 8:58! I opened the gate and drove in, pleased that the road wasn't too muddy for my rear wheel drive car to navigate. After closing the gate, I got back into the car, drove to the office, parked, and changed shoes. My boots were pretty gnarly from my last visit so I carefully un-bagged them, touching them as little as possible.
I met Leanne inside and dropped off the knives and a hand operating dicing tool, which I thought may come in handy for Fergus. She introduced me to Indran who I would be working with the rest of my visit. After using the restroom (It was a long trip) and getting our assignments, it was time to get started with the Pig Barn.
When we got to the barn, it was pretty quiet. It was obvious that the pigs were out and about and that it was nowhere near meal time. When mealtime approaches, the sound of grunts echoes loudly throughout the Farm. On the one hand you would think that the pigs would learn to be patient and that the food would come. On the other hand, it is quite possible that they believe that making a ruckus is a critical part of the ritual. I think it is a lot like our dog Heidi. She barks madly at the postman every day and he leaves. I do not think she understands that he really has no intention of living at our mailbox, and she sees their daily interaction as a standoff that she eventually wins. Maybe I am wrong, but it wouldn't surprise me if the pigs think the same. Cleaning the barn was pretty easy today since it was a spot cleaning. We were primarily removing the soiled straw and spreading down powder to absorb any moist areas. The hard part was ignoring Bonnie and Waylon. Bonnie is just so darn cute and it doesn't seem right to not be constantly telling her that. She and Waylon were hanging out in the adjacent covered alleyway and I had to steal some hugs when Indran was maneuvering the trailer around to load up the straw. She was a bit damp from the dew and showers, but looked as radiant as ever. Waylon stayed nearby to make sure I wasn't trying to steal his lady friend. I don't think he has anything to worry about there.
After loading up the tractor, I followed Indran down to the Cattle Barn. This was my first experience with cleaning a big barn. The drill was pretty easy at first. Indran showed me a good technique for turning the rakes over to push the hay to the center of the barn. This was a lot easier than the standard raking method. While he went to empty the tractor, I made relatively quick work of the raking and right on cue, Coco showed up at the gate. I had actually seen Coco earlier when I first arrived, so I didn't break my vow to her, but she had been occupied eating with the sheep. She is living with Geraldine Sheep and Elton Sheep still and seems to be doing very well. Each time I visit, I am convinced she can't get any cuter, but somehow she does. This time I think it was the alfalfa highlights in her hair. Truly a sight to behold! After petting her and coaxing her to let me kiss her nose, I heard another familiar voice. It was Whitaker coming in from the rain shower. He was on the other side of the barn fence, so I petted him for a while to get a sense of his mood and to make sure he remembered me. I like to believe he does. In my reading I have learned that cows can recognize up to 20 human faces, so the trick is to make sure I spend enough time there to remain in his mental Rolodex. He was pretty mellow, so I hopped the fence and hung out with him until Indran got back. He keeps getting bigger and I was happy to see that he was at least in the proximity of some other cows. One was Susie Moo and I am not sure who the others were. They were holding their positions outside the barn and I gave them their space, because we hadn't been formally introduced. Since I was in a nose kissing mood, I kissed Whitaker on his wet nose as I heard the tractor pulling up and got ready for Phase two of Cattle Barn cleaning.
Phase 2 was much harder. Pushing the hay had been easy, but lifting it by pitchfork into the wagon behind the tractor was much more grueling. Fortunately there were witnesses. Indran was there and Leanne had come up with her camera so I had to "man-up" and keep at it and not show how tired my arms were. I am convinced that if I did this for a year I would be qualified to run for Governor of California (Look out Arnold!). After putting on a clinic on how not to use a pitchfork, I tried my hand at stomping down the straw on the wagon. This gave a momentary break from the upper body workout, but shone a spotlight on my poor balance. Back to the forking! Time loses its meaning when your arms are screaming and I am sure that it didn't take as long as it seemed to load the wagon. Once that was done, Indran pulled the wagon out of the way and climbed into the rafters to toss down straw bales. Leanne headed back down to the office, probably in disgust of my pitch-forking skills, so Indran and I chatted about his time at Farm Sanctuary and his new Zune. By the time we were done laying down straw, I looked like a scarecrow. Somehow, I am convinced, I got more straw on my shirt (And somehow in my shirt) than on the floor of the barn. Fortunately they didn't check me for straw smuggling at the end of the day, or I wouldn't be writing this (I would be in "farm jail" somewhere).
After a brief respite, it was on to cleaning Coco's pen. She was out eating with the sheep again, so it was pretty easy to clean up. The fact that it was much smaller than the main Cattle Barn was welcome as well. Coco had been preliminarily diagnosed with Johne's disease, which means that her straw and "offerings" needed to be handled specially to prevent mixing with the other straw. Apparently Johne's is hard to diagnose, and it is still questionable whether Coco has it since she doesn't show some of the most prominent symptoms. She continues to put on weight, at least visibly, every time I see her and weight loss is normally a tell tale sign. Since it is possible to spread, they take every precaution, and that is why Coco cannot live with the other goats at this time. After loading up the garbage cans with the "X"s, marked to indicate that they are just for Coco, I laid down fresh bedding and she gave her seal of approval. I promised to stop by later, and began the hike to the Turkey Barn.
I call it the Turkey Barn, but it is actually the "Tom Turkey Barn". Gideon and Gobell were not very happy about some stranger barging into their crib, and were not inclined to let me clean. After explaining, in broken "turkey" that they didn't hang the "Do Not Disturb Sign" on the door, they relented, but kept a close eye on me to make sure that I didn't pocket anything. It was during this cleaning that I saw my first barn rat. I love rats and have had many beloved pet rats (I can't today because I am still sensitive to the loss of Steve-O and not ready to get into another relationship just yet), but seeing wild rats is always a little unsettling. As it turns out, he was more interested in getting out of my sight than sticking around, so he darted out and down the fence line before disappearing. Rats are very robust and persistent and they come with the territory. As long as they don't hurt my friends, I say, "Live and let live". After flipping and fluffing the stray bales and laying down a nice fresh layer of bedding, I welcomed the two distinguished turkey gentlemen back into their home and made my exit. As I walked through the gate, I could have sworn I heard, "Gobble, gobble, darn amateur forgot the pillow mints, gobble!" but it could have just been my mind playing tricks on me. By now, my body was not my biggest fan, so I wouldn't put it past it.
Lunch time! Only problem is I never remember to pack a lunch. Oh well. Like my normal job, I decided to just work through it. While Indran ate, I did some minor spring cleaning in the office. Nothing to heavy, but there is a lot of dust to be wiped and I tried to make a dent in it. As luck would have it, I didn't get too far in my labors before Leanne offered some "Animal Time".
Ramona and I had not spent as much quality time together as I would like, so I asked Leanne if we could visit her for a while. She was up in the Rescue Barn with Mathilda, so we walked past the Vegan House, where the interns live, and past the goat pasture to pay her a visit. Leanne had given me a banana peel for Ramona and I did my best to conceal it as we entered her "home". That didn't go too well. I have a lousy poker face and I am sure she could sense I was holding something. I felt kinda wimpy holding the banana peel with my finger tips and dropping it into her mouth, but the truth is that pigs do have teeth and are beyond eager when food is involved. I love Ramona, but I have also gotten attached to my fingers over the years (Although, as a two fingered typist it wouldn't affect my writing). Unlike past visits, she was willing to pose for some pictures. Actually, I think Leanne probably had to take 100 to get the two I have included below. She is a modern pig and is always on the go with little time for frivolity. She is a sweetheart though; you just have to remember to play by her rules. Before we left, I finally had the chance to see some porcine nest building. I had heard many times about pigs building themselves nests, and right there in front of me I saw Mathilda at work doing so. She would stuff, and I mean stuff, her mouth with straw and lay it down in the corner to make a nest. It was really neat to watch how she went about this labor, and to have a visual to go along with this sweet mental image.
I felt sorry for Leanne after asking to go see Coco again. That meant another long hike for her. Leanne is an amazing lady. She is the Director for the Orland Farm Sanctuary and really has her work cut out for her. She works long days and is tirelessly dedicated to her charges. I have immense respect for what she does. On top of that, she is willing to play tour-guide for me during my visit, which is really cool.
If anyone ever does end up reading this, they will probably get sick of me saying this, but I love Coco. Today she was a bit distracted by food, but any time with her is special to me. I tried to select some prime hay and alfalfa from her pile, but somehow I seemed to always pick poorly. She was always interested in some buried just a bit deeper. I guess if you eat the stuff every day, you know just what you like. I will trust her judgment rather than trying to improve my knowledge. Since meal time is important for the animals, I split my time between her and Geraldine Sheep. This was the first time that Geraldine let me pet her, so she was either tired or maybe I am growing on her. Her wool is so thick and I could really have used a nice pillow about this time, but I didn't want to push my luck. She was very accommodating as it was and even posed for a memento.
Leanne had more work to do and I had to leave by 4 PM (Farm rules), so I said goodnight to my friends, old and new, and we headed down to the office to prepare meds. On the way down, Leanne asked how I had selected my adopted animals. I explained that I had only personally picked two. Coco, of course, and Isabelle had made a real impression on me during my first visit and I wanted them to be part of my family. The other animals, equally treasured, had been selected for me.
As soon as I stopped talking, I could tell that something was wrong. After a brief pause, Leanne told me that Isabelle had passed away the day before. I was somewhat in shock at hearing this and it didn't quite register. I heard it, but my brain didn't process it. Like Coco, Isabelle represented the best of Farm Sanctuary to me in terms of its redemptive ability, and I couldn't believe she was gone. I had looked for her earlier in the day and hadn't seen her, but I had figured she may be in the enclosure like last time when she had not been feeling well. Although she had recovered from that during my last visit, apparently it was temporary. On Friday she had begun to act lethargic and she passed away shortly before her scheduled vet visit. The best way to describe how I felt was numb.
Med time was very interesting as I rode around in the cart with Leanne and "helped" administer meds. My helping was somewhat limited, but I did try to keep the other cows away from Lester's meds. Norman and Joannie were not very happy about that, but it was for their own good. Things were much easier with the ducks, chickens, and rabbits. All I had to do was help select the right pills from the baggies and Leanne took care of the rest. The last "patients" were Mario was Bonnie. Word was Bonnie was hanging out at the top of "Cow Alley" so that meant we could do them both in rapid succession. That sounded like a good plan, but it wasn't quite that easy. First, Mario needed eye ointment. The idea was that I would distract him with food while Leanne applied the ointment. This was complicated by two things: 1) Cows don't seem to like eye ointment, and 2) We were in "Cow Alley" with food and this gets a lot of attention. All I can say is that Leanne must be really good because somehow, after several tries, she managed to get enough in Mario's eyes to call the job done and we started the search for Bonnie. "Cow Alley" is narrow and cows are big, so this was exciting. The "Mule" felt very small as Leanne maneuvered between the immense cows. If these cows were so inclined, they could easily have had their way with the cart, but they are amazingly gentle...and a bit stubborn. We finally found Bonnie, administered her meds, and ran the gauntlet again before my day at the farm came to a close.
Eager to get a bite to eat before calling it an early night and going to bed, I sought out the Farwood Grill, which had been so pleasant during my last visit. For some reason, they were closed, and I had to settle for Subway sandwiches. Subway is okay, but I eat there way too much already (And my name ain't Jared). Since they are so close to work, I find that I go there when I have time for lunch, but when you can only eat one of their sandwiches, it gets old fast. Oh well, it was fast food and I wanted to get to bed fast, so no worries. I was tired and still emotionally numb, so I drugged myself into oblivion with cold medicine again and hit the pillow.
Waking up at 6 AM is always a chore, but more-so when you didn't sleep well and feel generally awful. Having spent much of the night blowing my nose, I was missing my lovely aloe tissues at home. Hotel toilet paper is no substitute. Through a combination of a sense of dedication, the restorative power of a shower, and my beloved meds, I was able to make it to the door just to find that it was really windy and really rainy. Convincing myself that sacrifice strengthens character and that the animals need clean barns on rainy days, I set off in my rear-wheel drive car down the wet and slippery roads to the farm. I prayed that I wouldn't get stuck in the long drive way and block traffic for everyone else who would be showing up to work.
As it turned out, I made it uneventfully. The first item on the list today was cleaning the Rescue Barn. Indran and I decided that we would do the main barn and the side barns at the same time so we had to convince the residents to vacate first. It wasn't exactly scientific, but I feel safe in saying that pigs, goats, sheep, and donkeys do not like leaving the dry warm barn to stand in the wind and rain. I don't think I need to run this test again; I am pretty sure of the results. After completing our temporary eviction, we set to work with Mathilda's distinctly unhappy grunts and bellows as our soundtrack. She was none too happy about the fact that we were dismantling her nest and shoving it toward the center of the barn.
The straw was very wet from all of the wet animals walking and laying in it, and Indran's rake trick was not quite as effective as it had been the day before. This made the previous day's work seem like a wonderful memory. The wind howled through the barn doors and I was forced to choose between feeling cold or feeling sweaty. I had anticipated the cold and worn layers, but I couldn't find the right "setting". I chose cold since I figured I could warm up easier than I could "un-sweat" myself. Cleaning barns is cleaning barns, so I won't give the blow by blow again, other than to say it was really hard work.
It was nice to see that the poults had been moved to the Rescue Barn from the Hospital Barn. The poults or, in layman's terms, baby turkeys, had grown quite a bit since I had last seen them. They now lived in the Rescue Barn and had recently been given a clean bill of health. This meant that once they were a little older, they could live with the other turkeys. This is great news since animals need the companionship of their gaggle (A group of turkeys), herd, flock, pod, or pride. To live alone is not natural for any creatures, and unnatural conditions beget unnatural behaviors.
The cleaning efforts were interrupted from time to time by the unwelcome sounds of shotguns. Apparently the nearby area allows duck hunting. Within the confines of the Farm Sanctuary, this intrusion seems quite perverse, and it made me angry. It angers me to know that there are people who enjoy this activity. It also angers me on another level because it forces me to acknowledge my own fallibility in the past. I have to admit that as a young man I shot animals. I shot a bird with my BB gun in my back yard and, while out shooting with friend of my parents, I shot a jackrabbit because it was sanctioned. We were told it was good to shoot them because they were eating the desert grasses that the desert tortoise ate. Although that was years ago, and it is not the person I am today, it doesn't make it alright and it is not an excuse. I carry a lot of shame for not knowing better, or thinking of the consequences of my actions. A life is a life and I have no right to it. I wish I could share my shame with these people with their guns. I wish they could experience the self-loathing that I feel even today for my past transgressions. I wish they would find something better to do with their time. I wish our society didn't issue licenses for this activity because it makes people think it is okay to do what they are doing. I wish I could make them stop.
We decided not to lay down straw in the Rescue Barn yet so that the ground could have some time to dry out first. It seemed remotely possible that this could happen if we let the cross-wind keep blowing through the open doors. Crossing our fingers, we headed down to the Pig Barn, our second task for the day. Indran set off on the tractor and I set off on foot.
It was raining so hard that the landscape was changing rapidly. There were ponds and streams where they shouldn't be, and everything seemed to threaten to wash away. I was soaked to the bone, or deeper if possible, and I had given up trying to avoid puddles because the sloshes coming from my shoes told me I had already lost that battle. Walking to the Pig Barn, I finally learned what the little foot bridge was for. It had always seemed misplaced during my previous visits, but now it provided the only way to cross the rapidly rushing creek by foot. Unfortunately, I had to "wade" across one of the newly formed ponds to get to the bridge, but at least I wouldn't get washed away.
Cleaning the Pig Barn was a whole new ballgame today. For one, we would have to clean the whole thing and not just spot clean. Also, the pigs were still in bed. I hear people use the metaphor, "It's like herding cats" all the time. Now I have never had a cat, never mind a herd, but I cannot imagine this comparing in the slightest to herding pigs. First off, they are bigger. These boys and girls range from four hundred to six hundred pounds. There is no way to pick them up and move them. Second, they do not believe you when you tell them that a little wind and rain is good for them. Enough of it was blowing in from outside to convince them that they wanted no part of it. Using pig boards, large red plastic thingies that also didn't react well to winds, we tried to convince them to get up, and then guide them out the door, down the very muddy path, and through the gate to the pig pond. Now, in their defense, I didn't want to go outside either, but there weren't a lot of options available. Some of the piggies took this better than others. Rosa, Lucas, and Maya were pretty well behaved and were willing to go with the program. Linus, Lassen, and the rest were having none of it. As soon as we would coax one up, another would lie back down, or try to find their way back into the barn. It felt like a cruel barnyard initiation prank! After getting the last of the uncooperative piggies, Lassen, to join his buddies, the cleaning could begin. The eviction had taken at least half an hour, so we were behind schedule now. Actually we were more behind schedule. The difficulties cleaning the wet straw in the Rescue Barn had already put us behind pace.
The straw nests were extremely packed due to the large pig bodies occupying them and it was a lot of effort to break them up and rake them away. As the first hint of self sympathy began to creep in, I banished it by thinking back to the "pig eviction". These poor animals have been engineered by man to carry much more body mass than they were ever designed for. While scientists were mucking with their weight accumulation, they failed to do anything to make it easier for their muscles or joints to carry the load. The pain I was feeling in my arms, legs, shoulders, and back was what these animals probably feel all the time. No wonder they didn't want to get up! I resolved to make it up to them by laying down extra thick straw beds for them to nest on. It was the least I could do.
Midway through laying down the new pig beds, Ashley stopped by to ask for some help. Apparently one of the barn cats had run away and the interns were trying to catch it so that they could make sure it was getting fed and was healthy. They had set a cage trap (A no-kill/no-injure trap) in the Turkey Barn, but it hadn't caught a cat. It was currently occupied by a possum. My only past experience with possums had not been pleasant. When we lived in San Jose, a particularly large possum had moved into our attic. Suffice it to say, I didn't have the cajones to mess with him. Fortunately, he moved out (He probably didn't like my music) and we got the roof fixed to make sure that none of his buddies stopped by. Anyway, that was what I was picturing as I bravely approached the trap. Luckily, this was a little fella and the trap gave us places to grip it which were out of claw and teeth range (I hoped). We carried the trap out of the barn and into an adjacent grassy area that wasn't flooded. After fiddling with the latch and door, I finally got it open and he ran out. Now that he couldn't bite me he looked pretty darn cute, and I felt sorry about the fact that he was out in the rain. Ashley and I called to him and pointed out some nice little holes in the little hill that seemed possum size. Now I don't know if there was a genuine moment of communication, or just a stunning coincidence, but it sure seemed like he heard us and abruptly changed course and headed for the holes we pointed out and disappeared. I hope the little dude is okay and that he learned that traps are no fun.
After the pig and possum (Sounds like a cool name for a pub) adventure, it was lunch time. For once I had actually remembered to bring "lunch". Actually it was three fruit bars (The only Vegan option at the gas station), but it was better than nothing. After eating my meal, I resumed my spring cleaning of the office where I had left off the day before. Leanne was on her day off (Although I had seen her earlier in the day), so there would be no "Animal Time" today. After about half an hour, there was some ruckus about a leaking mini-fridge and I was asked if I could help move it. I only saw one mini-fridge so I decided to see if I could find where the leak was coming from. As I opened the door I saw something that I had not expected. It was Isabelle. With all the rain there had been no way to give her a proper burial yet. She looked so quiet and peaceful, but I quickly closed the door. It was unexpected and too much for me to take in. It turned out that it was another mini-fridge that needed to be moved and after helping with that, lunch time was over and it was time to get back to the real work.
Cleaning the Cattle Barn was largely uneventful except for a visit from Whitaker, a surprise visit from Mr. Sunshine, and a key that broke off in the tractor's ignition. The rest was old-hat by now and we made up for some lost time earlier in the day. The last task for the day was the Sheep and Goat Barn and we enjoyed the fact that the wind and rain seemed to be taking some time off. It was getting close to "closing time" for volunteers and we headed down to the Main Office. I was particularly eager to change clothes for the second time, and remember what it felt like to be dry and not chaffing. Ahh, bliss!
It was 4PM, but there was something I had to do before I could leave. I had to say goodbye to Isabelle. I talked to Jamie and asked her if it would be okay for me to hold her and tell her goodbye. We took her out of the mini-fridge, un-wrapped her, and I held her body in my lap. She was so beautiful. I had always wanted to hold her, but had not pictured it like this. As I stroked her long downy neck with my fingers, I talked to her about the first time I had seen her. I had been drawn to her, and the way that she went about her life in spite of her blindness had reminded me of my Aunt Judy. I told her about the first time that I saw her in the pond, swimming in circles and had been worried that she couldn't get out. I praised her for her cleverness in knowing that doing circles would allow her to eventually find the bank and climb back out. I let her know about how many times I had told people about her and that her picture was on my Facebook page. I told her about how I had redecorated my office at home to focus on her and her friends and how much they meant to me in my life. I cried openly and heavily as it finally sank in that I would not see her in her pond anymore and that all I would have are my memories. I prayed with her that she was in a better place where all of the suffering that she had experienced before Farm Sanctuary would never happen again. She would be able to see and fly again and be whole. Having told her how much she meant to me, I kissed her bill and gently wrapped her back up. In death, as in life, she looked like an angel, with bright white feathers and strong, elegant wings.
Reflecting on Isabelle, I know that there was nothing more that could have been done to extend her life and that she is in a better place without pain. However, there are more Isabelles out there who may not have been saved yet, and I wish there was more that I could do to help. On the drive home, I thought about this. I wish I was independently wealthy (Or even dependently wealthy), but the truth of the matter is I am not and I am already probably pushing my limits with my contributions. So, how can I do more? Well, I have a Pepsi One habit that I could probably quit. Not only would this probably be good for my health, at the rate of 10 sodas per day, this is costing me between $1,500 and $2,000 a year. There we go, problem solved! I will quit drinking Pepsi One immediately and donate what I would have spent on this to Farm Sanctuary. I can only imagine a world where everyone decides to give up their bad habits and redirect those energies in more healthy and helpful ways. Well, I for one can choose to do so.
