Having opted to learn something from my last trip to the Farm, I decided that I would revert to my old habit of driving up the night before. For my last visit, I had tried driving up in the morning which meant leaving at about three-thirty in order to make sure I got there plenty early. Getting up early is always a drag, mentally and physically, but it is made much worse when you can't sleep. I felt like a kid on Christmas Eve again as I tossed and turned, eager for the gifts that would be coming my way when the morning rolled around. I wouldn't be doing that again.
The drive up was as uneventful as normal. There had been a bit of a back-up in the pass, but once that opened up (I never could get any sense of what caused this horrible delay), it was smooth sailing. I pulled into the Orland Inn to the welcoming glow of the "Vacancy" sign and checked in at the front desk. Now that I am a regular, it is nice being recognized and getting a friendly greeting as I walk in. I had always felt at a slight disadvantage since the lady at the desk knows my name, from my credit card, and I didn't know hers. I decided that it was appropriate to ask, so I did. Her name is Carolina, pronounced like Catalina. She is always very kind and I keep teasing her about needing to visit the Farm. Since she generally complains that the heat keeps her away, I put in a plug for the upcoming Twilight Tour in August. It would be nice to see her finally check it out.
After our exchange of pleasantries, I headed to Room 210, which had been my room on a few previous occasions, including my first overnight visit. It was warm in the room on account of the day's, and night's temperatures, which were still on the slightly uncomfortable to a Bay Area native side. The air conditioner did a valiant job of trying to offset this, but on this night it seemed to have met its match and could barely take the edge off of the heat. After resolving to sleep under just a sheet, I picked a suitable channel for background noise and assumed my sleeping position.
I didn't have the best night's sleep of my life by any means, but I did have some interesting dreams. The one that I recalled the most involved the trip to the Farm, of all things. It was a little off-kilter, in a funhouse way, like most dreams. For example, I wasn't going to the Farm for a visit with the animals, but rather for a physical for myself. I could somewhat rationalize this since I frequently refer to my visits as "Farm Therapy" and do believe it has some "medicinal" value for my well-being. The fact that I had two foster kids accompanying me was a little harder to explain. I wouldn't rule this out of my future possibilities, but it certainly isn't something I have thought of or planned for in the past. The dream covered my walk around the Farm, which was strangely more like a zoo, and culminated in me finding Coco. In my dream, Coco looked exactly like she normally does, which was a relief, and she was very happy to see me. As I visited with her in my dream, the outside world came crashing in on me and, in an instant, it was gone. Getting out of bed, I was glad that this part of the dream would be my reality in the hours to come.
Leaving the hotel early, in order to try to spend more time with the new baby calf - yes I know this is redundant, but I like it that way - I hit the road at five forty-five. By now, I know my way so clearly that I could probably sleep drive the ten miles from the inn to the Farm, but I didn't. Instead, my drive was filled with a hyper awareness of everything around me. I noticed every detail, such as the power/phone lines running along the road like an endless stream of crosses or grave-markers made of toothpicks. I saw a horse in a distant field pulling braches from a tree in order to get a succulent treat. I was surrounded by infinite details inundating my brain. The only other time I used to feel this was when I would get ready to deploy on the submarine. During the long, lonely walk down the pier, my mind would see the world as if it were the last time, capturing ever essence and insignificant component. I imagine this is a feeling shared by most who are deploying, either to sea or into a combat zone. This awareness felt great, but in that context, it was a little unsettling. What did it mean? Did my subconscious know something that my conscious didn't? Had those Buddhism books I had been listening to in the car taken effect in this instant and brought me higher consciousness? Had I been bitten by a radioactive spider? I couldn't answer the question, so I tried to make the best of it.
My perceptive state was still in full effect as I pulled into the Farm. The upper gate was closed when I drove up so I parked and waited for the Farm to open. I had recognized this as a risk when I decided to come in early, but had figured that even if I wasn't able to drive up, it would be nice to listen the Farm waking-up in the morning. Stopping the car, I caught a glimpse of something in the grass. There was definitely something there; forcing the grass to part as it made its passage. In a less dense patch of grass, a juvenile coyote emerged into view. He was over near the People Barn, so he posed no immediate threat to my farm buddies and I watched him out of curiosity. I am not sure if he was initially aware of me or not. He continued his stroll like he didn't see me or didn't care that I was there. I watched him pounce on something, probably a small rodent, which reminded me of wildlife videos I had seen in the past. He was walking away from the Farm and I observed and filmed him for several minutes, until he had faded into the distance. At one point he had walked close to me, probably within twenty-five feet, and it became obvious that he knew I was there, but wasn't fazed by it. Meeting him was an unexpected treat.
About the time that I lost sight of the coyote, I heard the Mule coming down the dirt road from the Main Office. It was Mike, that is "old Mike" who is now "Mike C", and he opened the gate and let me come up. I followed him into the office and saw the baby calf again. He was still very baby-like with gangly legs and oversized ears, but he was definitely bigger. As I suited up to feed him, I could also tell that he was a lot livelier than before. When I met him last time, he was quite timid and certainly afraid of being in a new place. I think he had settled in now. As I introduced his bottle, he took to it in an instant and drained it in about a minute. He still had the "milk moustache" when he was done, but he was much more controlled in his drinking than before. He had also learned the bovine art of head-butting. This is not a malicious head-butt, like its human counterpart, but rather a means of pushing more milk from his mother's udder. Since I was that "udder", I was fair game for encouraging butts. Anything that could fit in his mouth was a candidate for a teat. This ranged from my fingers, hand, elbow, and knees. I moved into the corner to try to prompt him to join me and lie down. Instead, he came up and promptly latched on to my chin. This was amusing, but I have to suspect, frustrating for him. He would also take to sprinting around his small pen, reminiscent of how Heidi does laps around the kitchen, living room, and dining too. I liked linking those images to each other, but I think he may have been protesting for more food. Protecting my groin from his head-butts by side-stepping him, I cradled him and hugged him to try to calm him down. I rubbed his sides and belly to try to mimic what I imagined his mom would do, and he eventually mellowed a bit; just in time for me to have to leave at seven to start the volunteer day. It was hard to say goodbye, but I did have a job to do.
That job today included totaling the Chicken Barn. This was similar to the normal cleaning, but with the added task of removing the laying boxes and hutches for a thorough cleaning. Today I would be working with Mason, one of the interns, who was on his last week of his stay. He is a really nice guy from Sacramento who will be headed back to school when the semester resumes. After some fumbling over how to start, we pulled the laying boxes out and started scrubbing them down with brushes. This was a lot harder than I thought it would be and involved extended periods of being bent over to scrub, since the height was between the standing height and the crouching height. I knew my back and legs would not be too happy with me the next day. Finishing the barn took about two and a half hours, but at the end it was worth it. Anyone who questions whether animals can feel pleasure has obviously never seen a chicken returning to a barn with a fresh layer of straw. They took to it with joyous abandon, pecking and scratching for bugs and seeds in the straw. It is important not to miss these moments. It can be easy to get hung up on the task list and not enjoy the moments that most people never have the privilege to see. They chickens were pretty indifferent to the scrub job on the laying boxes, but they would appreciate that later when they started roosting after the morning's excitement subsided.
While Mason moved on to cleaning the rabbit and turkey hutches, I headed back to the Main Office for my next assignment; AM produce. Fortunately the turkeys had mostly recovered from the ordeal that I witnessed during my last visit. This was definitely good news. Maple was back and only two turkeys were under observation, one for an unrelated joint issue that required turkey physical therapy six times a day. I am sure there are people out there who would scoff at this, but those are people who have never met a turkey.
AM produce was the next thing on the list and it is always a pleasure. It was even better today since Joanne, one of the interns, had already done all the cutting. All we had to do was distribute the treats. I had met Joanne during my last volunteer visit. She is from Scotland and I was a little embarrassed about my original assessment that she may be Australian. Fortunately, I never said this aloud. We fed the chickens and turkeys, and they were eager as always. When we got to the ducks and geese, I had some time to spend with our new duck, Daisy. She has a bill deformity which at first glance seems quite painful, but it doesn't seem to impair her at all. I find that it gives her a lot of extra "duck personality". She wasn't in the mood for petting, but she did let me get a lot of pictures. She was one of several ducks rescued from a hatchery in Santa Cruz where rampant abuses were documented. As with the baby calf, it is hard to imagine anything more innocent and precious than baby ducks and the fact that people could treat them with such carelessness and wanton abandon shakes my emotional foundations to its core.
After making sure that everyone was content, it was time for me to shift gears and move on to cleaning the "Iso yards" at the Pig Barn. This was simple work today since it seemed as if the piggies in isolation, Linus, Lily, and Calvin, hadn't been pooping too much since it was cleaned last, probably on account of the heat. This job was over in about fifteen minutes and I watched as Kerrie wrapped up her checks and we headed down to the Main Office together to work on Hay Feeds.
I had a bit of an agenda for today. I wanted to pick Kerrie's brain about what it is like to work at the Farm. My dream is still to find a way to work there, at some point in the hopefully not too distant future, and I was curious to hear her perspective on this. We chatted about how volunteering compares to actually working there in terms of tasks and stuff. Kerrie helped me out with my questions in between feeding out wetted pellets and hay. The Farm had run out of alfalfa and the animals were a bit less than enthusiastic about the bait and switch with hay. What we lacked in quality, we made up for in quantity. We actually hitched up a trailer for all of the hay bales. This presented an opportunity for me to demonstrate my hay bale tossing and lifting skills. Fortunately for me, I didn't have the goal of impressing anyone. I alternated between tossing hay bales from the top into general proximity to the trailer and missing by a mile. In a completely unexplainable phenomenon, the hay bales actually seemed to get progressively heavier with each one we hoisted onto the trailer, and I quickly regretted not having brought work gloves. As I type this, almost a week later, I am still avoiding contact with open blisters on parts of my hands and fingers.
An element of risk permeated our work as the Mule was chronically overheating. When we got to the main cow pasture, the Mule seemed to have had enough. The coolant was bubbling over into the cab in an ominous sign. Rather than Kerrie driving and me hanging out on the trailer tossing hay bales, I recommended that we give it a chance to rest and cool-down. So, we tossed the hay bales about the "old fashioned" way. A few months of this, and I have no doubt that my puny upper body would be in tip-top form. Fate was smiling on us this day and we were able to make it back to the Main Office without bursting into flames. Mind you, it was hard to be sure given the general temperature. Instead of relying on my body thermometer, I had to calm myself by the absence of flames surrounding us.
Luckily for me, my next assignment was indoors. It was time to prep the PM produce which meant another foray with my friend the knife and a variety of vegetables. Now I didn't actually time myself, but I can say that I am getting a lot faster with this, if I do say so myself. I think I am also getting a lot safer since my fear of cutting my fingers off doesn't feature as prominently in this chore anymore. The only downside was that now that I wasn't actively sweating anymore the residual sweat was now drying and I felt dirt encrusted. In the grand scheme of things, though, it was a good filth.
My last real task for the day was to clean the Goose Hospital Hutch. At the moment, the name was not particularly fitting since it was shared with ducks, some small scrub jays, and a turkey. Poor Gobbell was not doing too well and as a result he was in semi-isolation. He is a pretty tough bird, but one unfortunate reality with animals is that they will often turn on weakened members of their flock, herd, or brood, and Gobbell was at risk of being a target. It was encouraging to see him up and about , but I could tell he wasn't at full health because I could sense he would have attacked the squirrel in his food dish if he were up to it.
Cleaning the last hutch was easy and I had a little time to kill while I waited for the feedout of the PM produce. Since I didn't have enough time to venture up to the Goat pasture, I decided that I would try out my latest donation. Prior to the trip up here, I had picked up a new hot plate. As with many of my donations, this one was somewhat selfish in that it addressed an issue I had. You see, the current hot plate that they had consisted of two burners. One of the burners worked well and the other did not and I could never remember which was which. They had a saying for this in the Navy which was, "fifty-fifty-ninety". This basically meant that whenever there was a fifty-fifty chance of picking the right one, ninety percent of the time you would pick wrong. That pretty much sums me up. Anyway, I wanted to give the new hot plate a trial run before I left to make sure it would work. As I cooked up the batch of hard-boiled eggs for tomorrow's chicken produce, my level of anxiety was very high. There were some small chores that I decided to help with, but my mind kept coming back to those burners and the fear that they would short or somehow burn down the Main Office. I kept racing back to check on them every couple minutes out of fear of the unthinkable. Fortunately, the UL listing and reputable manufacturer made for an experience which didn't require the fire department, and I am glad to say that it performed admirably; although on a day like today, leaving the eggs outside may have done the trick just as well.
The last item on the agenda was to help with the PM produce feed-out which meant a visit to the pigs. This doesn't really count as a chore in my book, but I guess technically it is helping out. The pigs, for their part, also try to help by doing a good job of cleaning their bowls. They always make me laugh when they get their produce because some of the pigs will race back and forth between the bowls as if the other bowls always have something better in them. It reminds me of our pet rats (God bless their souls) Frances and Noodles who used to spend a large part of their time stealing each other's food stashes. You see, they each had their respective corners where they would stash their favorite treats, which were generally Ritz crackers. While Frances was stealing from Noodles, Noodles was stealing from Frances and neither of them ever increased their stash, although not for lack of trying. Seeing that same dynamic playing out here with these big greedy pigs was just as amusing.
With my final hour winding down, it was time to hang out with my buddies. Coco and Melvin were first up and I was glad to be able to bring them some apple slices as treats. This always works well and they suck them down like no one's business. After a while though, the rest of the goats get wise to what is going on and then Coco and Melvin start to get pushed aside. Luckily I was able to load them up today before anyone was any the wiser. I really cherish my time with them and love that Melvin always comes to greet me, even when I am not bearing treats. I can't help but smile when I either see or think of his goofy goat grin (Try saying that three times fast). I also spent a little time with Whitaker and Edwin, but only Edwin would accept apple slices. Whitaker has always been a little finicky when it comes to this, even going back to our earlier visits. It warms my heart to see him and Edwin bonding the way they have. It used to be so hard to see him isolated from the herd, either by his choice or theirs, and his woeful moos when he saw people would render the hardest heart to putty. Now they are inseparable and both bear the cow-licks as evidence of mutual grooming.
As I said goodbye to Waylon and Bonnie on my way down to my car, I was truly grateful that the hyper-awareness that I had experienced this morning was apparently not ominous or cause for dread. Maybe it is only the cumulative effect of my visits here which is making me more and more aware of the subtle things in life. When you spend your day in a dreary office, doing repetitive work, it can be easy to get in the habit of keeping your head down and letting the tunnel vision overtake you. Here, in the world of Farm Sanctuary, the world I have come to love and wish to adopt as my own, there is beauty around every corner and I will choose to believe that what I felt this morning is my body re-wiring itself to appreciate this. I think I like the sound of that.
