I was racing the sunset which was threatening to overtake the blue sky like an ever expanding and irregular inkblot. Only a few shards of blue were still visible in the Northwest sky as I pulled into the parking lot at the Orland Inn. I had arrived just before 10 PM, and after an uneventful drive, I was ready for my ritual of checking in, crawling into bed, and waiting for the "rooster crow" in the form of a 6 AM wake-up call. The young lady at the desk was quite familiar to me by now and she remembered me from my previous trips. We chatted briefly about the Farm and I encouraged her to visit. She expressed her intent to do so with her nieces and nephews, and we adjourned our conversation. One of these days, I need to remember to ask her what her name is if we are going to continue seeing one another at the front desk. It just seems like the right thing to do.
There is never much notable on TV from the local Chico cable provider, so I fell asleep pretty briskly. I do like the beds at the Orland Inn. While it may lack some of the accoutrements of the fancy-schmancy hotels that I have stayed in while visiting Europe and Asia, they do get the beds right, and ultimately that is what matters. After a nice night sleep, which ended with a bizarre nightmare about a tornado in our house, I awoke and contemplated whether to try to go back to sleep. The light seeping in through the curtain led me to worry that my wake-up call hadn't come, and I spent several minutes scanning the TV stations for one with the local time. By then, my mental state was fully alert and I knew than sleep would not be returning, at least not in the half-hour I had left before six.
I washed up and double and triple-checked to make sure I had everything, before leaving my key on the TV and heading out into the world. It was bright outside, but somewhat over cast. It was clear that it would be warmer today than any of my previous volunteering trips, but it didn't feel like the scorcher that I was dreading. I filed this hopeful thought away and put the truck in reverse and departed.
As I approached the Farm, it was only six-thirty, so I went to check on the grave site of my friend the owl. I was somewhat distressed to see that it had not been respected. Clearly some scavenger had stumbled across it as evidenced by the scattered assortment of stones, feathers, and some stray bones. I resolved that this was just animals doing what they need to in order to survive and chose not to see it as an affront to the dearly departed. It still made me feel a little sad. Since this would be my last visit to the site, I said my final goodbyes and drove up the dirt road to the Farm. The gate was unlocked and open which was a pleasant surprise, considering that it was still some time before the Farm officially opened.
It is worth mentioning, at this point, that I am writing my story on a new computer. My previous computer had performed admirably in most respects, but had not been up to the task of high definition video editing. Since I shoot a lot of video at the Farm (At least relative to the approximately one hour of video I have shot previously in my thirty-seven years of life), it is important for me to be able to edit it and remove all the scenes of filming my feet when I forget to turn it off. All of which is a long introduction to the next sentence. I opened the tail-gate of my truck to remove my recently retired computer and monitor which I had decided to donate to Farm Sanctuary. After providing the disclaimer that it would not be the best for HD video editing, they had still felt that it would be a worthy addition to their family of computers and I was glad that it would have a home other than my closet or an electronics landfill.
Almost as soon as I had loaded that stuff, and said good morning to Blossom, Kerrie came striding along the yard between the Cattle Barn and the Main Office. I think the world of Kerrie. She is always so cheerful and full of love and enthusiasm for what she does. One can't help but enjoy being around her. Plus, she tends to talk to the animals in high pitched, "baby-talk" tones that make me less self-conscious about my inclination to do the same. I had only recently learned that she spelled her name with an "ie" instead of a "y" at the end, and I have had to make changes to my story to reflect that new knowledge. Please don't tell her. She shared with me my hand-written schedule for the day and asked if I would like to help her out since I was early. Without hesitation, I was ready to go.
We headed over to the Cattle Barn, which was currently playing home to the sheep and goats. Coco and Melvin were there, as was Ady, Colvin, Molly, Chili, and the rest of the gang. Coco was the first on the list to check out. She had a minor abscess on her belly that needed to be treated. Kerrie applied a halter and I "helped" by petting Coco and talking to her while Kerrie went about her work. Coco was a good little patient, bless her heart. She has been through so much. All of the sheep and goats were on some medication in their water to treat a potential parasite that had been making some of them have diarrhea and lose some weight. Coco looked a little thinner than when I had seen her previously, but she was also shedding her undercoat, just in time for summer, and this makes it hard to tell since it adds notable fluff.
Melvin's long curly coat was coming in nicely, although I am thinking he may be a lot cooler without it. His transition to the herd is still on-going, and I continue to believe it is harder on him than on Coco. I was told that there is evidence of a bond between them, although I had not seen a lot of that during my visits. That changed, however, when we were giving Coco her meds and Melvin was hovering around her as if to make sure she was okay. I had not seen him do that before and I like to think of him as her protector/buddy, her angel in fluffy, white curls.
My first assignment today, from seven to ten, was to work with Mike #2. I call him that because there is already one Mike of whom I have written and I need a way to distinguish him. Since he has two dogs that he brings to work with him, I had considered "Mike Two Dogs", but that is too long to write. Mike is from North Dakota and he is one of the more recent hires on the Farm. He had just completed his fourth week and he was really enjoying it. Since we were to start with the Rescue Barn, I began trudging up there while he went for the tractor.
I arrived at the barn several minutes before Mike did and got started raking the barn. You know the old adage about assuming, the one that to "assume makes an ass out of you and me"? Well, it turned out that I was once again proving the validity. Fortunately, Mike arrived before I got too far along. Cleaning the center area was not on today's agenda. We were only cleaning the South stall and spot cleaning the pig stalls. I felt a little sheepish at my mistake, which was probably not too inappropriate given the setting, but it turned out for the best. My raking allowed a path for the tractor to back into the barn and allow us to load it with soiled straw. We finished in short order, but not before sharing some of our abridged life stories. Mike had previously interned at Farm Sanctuary before returning home and volunteering with other animal care agencies. The call of the Farm wouldn't leave him alone, and when the opportunity arose, he came back. I posited that I could relate, but did not go into details on my own metal conundrum.
As Mike drove the tractor down to the Main Office to get a drink, I walked ahead to the Pig Barn which was our next stop. This is, in my opinion, the most difficult of all of the barns to clean and I was mentally tabulating how many weeks it had been since I was here last. I recalled that the Pig Barn was totaled every two weeks. This is arduous work given that the pigs have huge straw nests that must be cleared. Convincing myself that it had been three weeks since my last visit and that today would probably be a spot cleaning, I had a momentary feeling of shame and laziness for even considering the matter. These animals deserve everything I can give them during my visits and I would never short-thrift them.
It was about this time that I passed the Duck Pen. I knew that this would happen during my visit, and I tried to steel myself against the feelings I was having. Penny, my dear duck who had only just recently consented to let me pet her, had passed away two weeks ago. I had received an e-mail from Leanne, letting me know of the sad event and the scant details that were available. Her heart had grown weak, either due to heart disease or the intrusion of an abdominal mass. The vets couldn't be sure which yet. Had she been a human, there is a good chance that here would have been more experience to draw upon since we value ourselves so highly. For animals, particularly farmed animals, there is not such a vast catalog of ailments and cures. In most cases, these animals are seen as property with little value. The concept of caring for a creature once it has been branded in such a fashion is not prominent. The fact that Farm Sanctuary, and their contributors, care enough to work to save all of the spirits in their charge, is foreign and often runs into the limitations of known veterinary medicine. I really loved Penny, with her tail waggle and her chattering beak. She had a sparkle in her eyes which flickered with bright life, and I always sensed we were embroiled in a game in which she was holding out in giving me the chance to feel her feathers and caress her plumed head. I was glad that she finally relented and let me win. I am sad, however, that I will never feel the gentle nibble of her beak on my arm again. I feel the sorrow as I walk by and resist the habit, no, the need, to call out her name and watch her reply in her own way. Such it is to have loved and lost. We have only finite time and never as much as we would wish for to do those things that can't be done once the time has passed.
At the Pig Barn it was confirmed that we would only be doing a spot cleaning. This still meant delivering eviction notices to the sleeping pigs, but today I was pleasantly surprised that most of them were cooperative. Now "cooperative" is relative. There was still considerable resistance to being led down to the pond, but all but one of the pigs got up pretty easily, and from there it was just a matter of time. I turned to fluffing the pig nests while Mike worked in Lilly and Calvin's pen. Lilly was still in isolation while she recovered from pneumonia and Calvin, well I think Calvin is just there for being so darned ornery. I don't blame the big guy though. I think he would just as soon be left alone, other than at feeding time, of course.
When we finished, I was introduced to the new cow on the Farm. He had been surrendered by a family who had pretty much kept him as a pet, and he was in pasture of his own until his blood and other lab work came back clean. He was a very striking teen calf and looked like a cross between Whitaker and Harrison. He was still a little unsure of his new surroundings and he wasn't sure at first whether he liked me or Mike. Before long, he was letting us take turns petting him and would lick at us as a friendly gesture. He is a real sweetheart and while his size is close to Whitaker's, his face appears younger and more calf-like. I keep saying "he" because he doesn't yet have a name. I expect he will by the time I visit again. I think the naming is done by committee and I guess they have to think it over a bit more. I felt for the little fellow because the flies were relentless. They were all around his eyes and nose. I will have to research "cruelty free" repellants when I get home. I don't know if I will find them, but I can always try.
Mike #1 stopped by to confirm that I would be helping him with hay feed and, since we were done with the Pig Barn, I followed him down to the Main Office to get his list of what needed to be done. Kerrie was down there and asked for some assistance with Lilly pig's antibiotic shot, so like a boomerang, we found ourselves returning to the Pig Barn from whence we came.
Lilly was not at all enthusiastic about her treatment. It involved having a halter placed around her snout and being secured to a gate while the shot was administered. It was all done as gently as possible, but pigs have pretty forceful personalities, and I am sure it ran contrary to what she wanted to be doing, which was probably napping. She got some treats when it was all said and done, so she didn't hold a grudge. She was the envy of the other pigs, however.
As we cruised around in the Mule, going from pasture to pasture, we chatted about the recent Ohio Cruelty case at Conklin Farms. Undercover video showed one of their employees punching calves for fun, pitch-forking other cows in the side and udders, hitting cows over the head with crowbars, body slamming a small calf, and snapping cows tails. This was hideous enough to behold, but to see his smirk and pleasure in doing so is what was most haunting. The owner of the farm himself was also on video kicking a downed cow, as if the point of the boot was the only means of communication. As I had watched this video, I could hardly resist the urge to buy a ticket to track down this individual and let him know my thoughts about what he had done. How these ideas may manifest, in verbal explanation, or in physical examples, I couldn't decide. That is the danger with these videos. They can take a person and cause them to cross from the "light side" of the vegan movement to the "dark side". It is impossible not to be angered by these images and want to lash out and avenge these abused and neglected animals. The rage trumps rational thought and it takes an increasingly Herculean effort to rein it back in and suppress it. Needless to say, Mike and I had a similar reaction to these videos.
Perhaps more alarming, was the response that I had witnessed on web feeds of call-in shows in Ohio. During these shows, there was always some "expert" from Ohio and various callers who were part of the farming establishment. While the "farmers" would go through the motions of decrying the images from the video, there was always a "but" which varied from person to person, but in each case undermined their condemnation of what they had seen. I guess once you make the decision that the exploitation of animals is acceptable, the details of how they are to be exploited and the extent of the exploitation are just that, details. It seemed impossible for any of them to recognize that maybe the animals were not ours to do with as we please. Maybe this type of behavior underscores why we have no business doing what we are doing to the animals. The status quo is strong with these folks and the fact that their livelihood is tied up in it, makes a potent combination and barrier to change.
We continued our conversation in this vein and pondered how normal people, those who have not been mentally corrupted or beholden to the system of insanity, could see these pictures and not immediately decide to abandon their consumption of animal products. Since I am still what one would consider a "recent Vegan", I shared my perspective on this. With ten months under my belt as a vegan and over three years as a vegetarian, I still feel a lot of guilt over my past eating habits and behaviors as they relate to animals. This is guilt that I will probably continue to feel for the rest of my life and have to find ways to deal with. For example, there is a reason why I don't eat when I am at the Farm volunteering. While it may make less sense committed to paper than it does in my head, this voluntary fast is a form of penance for me. Each meal that I miss represents a meal that I wish I had never had. At my age, it would be impossible for me to balance the books, so to speak, but this is a coping mechanism for me. Guilt is a very hard thing to live with, and I suspect that it poses a barrier to many people adopting a more compassionate lifestyle. To do so would force them to acknowledge that they have been part of an inherently cruel system. They would have to admit that they have been duped all their lives up to this point. They may need to concede that they have been aware of the suffering for quite a while before deciding to make a change. This latter one, however, only gets worse the longer one waits. I, for one, can say that I gladly accept the guilt over the alternative and will continue trying to clean my slate for the rest of my life.
It also means joining a small and oft misunderstood fraternity and feeling at odds with those who you are close to, but who do not share your world view. It means dealing with the reactions of friends and family who may not understand why this matters so much to you and being completely unable to grasp their apathy. I had a lot of problems coming to terms with this myself and for a while I was very withdrawn. In short, it takes a strong commitment, and we live in a culture that doesn't place a lot of value in commitment. You don't have to look too far around you to see people who have divorced, defaulted on mortgages, declared bankruptcy, etc, all of which are indicative of broken commitments and quitting in the face of adversity. For all these reasons and more, people have to have an inner strength; they have to be Vegan strong. From my experience, not everyone is up to the challenge.
Last, but by no means least, it requires that you care about something other than yourself. In some cases, it may even mean caring for something more than you care for yourself. Whether it is simply a matter of principle, or a matter of principle in action, there will come a day for all of us where we will have to stand up and be counted. Like all things special, it isn't meant to be easy.
Once feeds were done, it was time to move on to my next job for the day. My produce duties were awaiting me. Now I feel like I have come a long way since my first time doing produce. Between the new knives and my practice, I seem to get through them a lot quicker, but I am never able to finish in the time allotted. Today, that time was one hour and I had carrots, celery, lettuce, collared greens, bell peppers, cilantro, apples, and grapes to cut and thirty-five eggs to boil. I was probably about half-way through when it was time to do Noon Checks with Indran.
I had done this before with Leanne, but this was my first time with Indran. The assignment basically entailed checking on the animals, as implied by the name, and making sure everyone was okay. I think this is seasonal since a lot of the tasks involved checking for any signs of animals over-heating and applying sunscreen to the pigs. Fortunately, no one was overheating today, but we turned on the fans in the Pig Barn and the air conditioning in the Chicken Barn in order to make sure everyone was comfortable. Applying the sunscreen to the pigs was interesting. The sunscreen is mixed in spray bottles and liberally sprayed on the pigs before trying to rub it in. Since the pigs were mostly sleeping, it wasn't too hard to do, but I did have some concerns that the pigs may wake with a start and get upset. As it was, they took it in stride. All except for Blossom, that is. In Blossom's case there wasn't a spray bottle. I became reacquainted with the sunscreen that I had left for her on a previous visit. I figured she loved belly rubs and being petted, so it would be no problem. I was wrong! I would get some on her and start rubbing it in just in time to dodge a bite attempt. She never got me, but our little "dance" continued for a lot longer than I would have expected, with me back pedaling away every ten seconds or so when she would whip her head or charge me. Presently Indran showed up and held her attention with some grapes at which point she lost any awareness of my presence, or what I was doing. I don't know what was behind her behavior. I can only assume that she may have some tanning contest going with the turkeys that live next door to her. Luckily for her, she already has a comfortable lead in that department and I am not sure the turkeys know that they are playing, by the looks of it.
When we were done with rounds, I washed my hands and resumed my produce cutting. Leanne had told me to finish that and then work with Melody on her chores. Just about the time I wrapped up, I saw Melody come into the office. I apologized for not helping sooner and made some excuses about my plight with the produce. She was on her last task which was cleaning the Duck Pen and I figured I was better late than never.
It had been hard earlier in the day when I walked past the ducks and didn't see Penny, but now it was going to be even harder. I saw Foofy and Oreo and the others, but I really missed Penny. I set to cleaning the pool, a.k.a. Muscovy Duck Pond, first. The Muscovy ducks don't really like swimming in deep water and the pool gives them a way to splash and clean themselves. They are actually very interesting creatures who prefer to roost in trees rather than in the marshes like other ducks. It is almost like they are evolving out of being water fowl to some degree. Once the pool was clean, I faced a "Penny-free" barn while helping to wash down the ramps with a scrub brush. If I am going to continue to adopt farm friends, I know that I will have to get used to this, but I do take some pride in the pain and I hope I never lose the grief. It is a potent reminder of the price of love.
Melody and I continued to clean around the pen and outside the fence line. She was one of the new interns and was genuinely charming. She worked in a veterinary office in Boston. I shared with her my misadventures of getting lost in Boston and I had the distinct feeling that she had heard similar tales before. We also chatted about the Vegan lifestyle and the excuses that we hear for people who choose not to react to the realities around them. She expressed her surprise that she was the only one in the veterinarian's office who was Vegan and I admitted that I would expect better of that profession in particular. After some raking, which seemed to generate little in terms of straw, but did gather a lot of rocks, we were done for the day.
With the work of the day now fading into the past, it was time to mingle with my pals. After checking with Leanne and Indran to make sure it was okay for me to stay past four, I headed off to find Coco and Melvin first. As luck would have it, I was in for a hike. They were on the far side of the hillock behind the Cattle Barn. I found Coco first, but she was too absorbed in her grazing to spend any quality time with me at the moment. Rather than feel ignored, I chose to be more attentive and watch to see what she was eating. It was clear that she was not just eating any grass. She would take some nibbles here and then some there and then move on and repeat the pattern. After watching for a few minutes, I was able to discern that she had a clear favorite. She was eating a "grass" with purple flowers. I scoured the hillside to find a handful of them and came back to offer her some. Now she wanted to hang out! Having found her weakness, I exploited it for a while and we had our together time. Once I was sure she wasn't holding a grudge for the incident earlier with the medical treatment, I told her I would see her next time and began my search for Melvin.
Melvin's coat is growing back really fast. He has his long curls back and he was looking more like the first time I met him. His goofy grin was there too, and as I approached, I knew he would not be a diva like as Coco. He came up to me and rested his horns on my upper shoulder and we had a little chat. I coached him on how to handle the adversities of being introduced to the herd, and he promised to stay the course and remain strong. I told him Coco was depending on him and that she had been telling me good things about him. At least that's what I think I said. Interspecies verbal communication can be tricky sometimes, even for the best of us. After learning that Melvin too liked the grass with the purple flowers, I bid him adieu and started the climb back up the hill, pausing twice to look back at my little cloven-hoofed angels.
I had only seen Whitaker in the distance today, so I knew I had to go say hello to him. On the way up, I passed Leanne and asked her if she could point out Sweet Pea. She has recently recommended Sweet Pea as our new adopted goose, and I was looking forward to meeting her. It turned out that our first introduction would have to be from a distance since she was swimming in the pond, but I told her I would see her next time and let her get back to her fun.
As I got closer to the yard where Whitaker was, I found him alone with his back turned. He appeared to be sulking. I wished that his new buddy was ready to be introduced since I would love to be there at the onset of their friendship. I really do hope that they get along. With their big brown eyes, a sad cow can drain your spirit in a moment, and Whitaker knows how to lay it on pretty thick. Since it was clear that he wouldn't come to me, I jumped the fence and went to him. He looked up as I approached and I saw that the poor little dude had flies all over his nose. I immediately tried to wipe them away and he tried another tactic of rubbing his face against my leg and chest. This seemed to offer him some relief, but they would come right back. As a Vegan, I will not harm living creatures, even flies, but watching them bothering Whitaker, I would be lying if I didn't admit to bearing them ill will. We hung out for probably fifteen minutes with me alternating between my patented "cow-lick-rub" and wiping the flies from his face. It was a rare peaceful moment with my friend Whitaker. Maybe it was just the heat, which was in the high eighties, or maybe he missed our quality time. I really believe it was the latter, although I could be wrong. He let me hug his back before I had to go and I can't wait to see him and his soon to be named buddy on my next visit.
On the drive home, I listened to the book "Animal Farm", by George Orwell, on my iPod. I had heard about the book before, but I had never read it. As I heard of the plight of the farm animals under man's cruel reign, I could clearly see some similarities to the realities of today. Many of the animals at the Farm had staged a "revolution" of sorts by escaping from their terrible fates and finding their way here. Where I couldn't see any parallels was in the eventual corruption of the animals once they took over, or in the stereotypes regarding their intelligence. These animals were far too pure to envision them having any of those tendencies and as I reflected back on my discussion with Ashley on my previous visit, they can also be the best teachers, if we as humans are smart enough to heed their lessons. No, Farm Sanctuary was no "Animal Farm", but then again, why would it be? It is doing just fine, under the current management.
