Before I headed up the dirt driveway to the Farm, I felt compelled to check out the grave site of my owl friend. His grave was still intact and the dried flowers that I had left during the Hoe Down were still in place. Even now, I still remembered the sad feeling that came over me when I first saw this majestic bird lying crumpled on the street. What a tragedy. Fortunately I had not seen any more casualties. The trip up had also been blessedly free of death trucks. This is always a good thing. While I know they are still out there, seeing them and not being able to do anything adds a whole other level of impotence.
Just a few hundred more feet, and I was pulling into the Farm. I am elated. The only thing I can think to compare it to is the way my dog looks when I get home. She is always so excited that she seems about to burst at the seams, like her whole world is completed by my arrival. That is how I feel as I ease my car into its customary spot and prepare for a day with my friends. First on the docket for today was meeting Mary and Mike.
Mary is one of the newer interns. I say “newer” because I haven’t met her before, but since she is leaving in another week, she is new to me. She is very friendly, with the kind heart and nose-ring that seem to be prerequisites for female interns. I am not sure what it says about us males, but it sure seems as if the overwhelming majority of interns are female. Maybe it’s the lack of the “macho gene” or the appeal to the mothering instinct, but there seems to be a disparity from what I can tell.
Mike is a new employee. He is an Assistant Caretaker and had only just started. This was one of the jobs that I had previously watched disappear from the job listings on the website. He came across as quite nice and the fact that he had two dogs with him, established him as a decent bloke on my book. I can’t remember his dog's names, but they were a bit shy about being petted for now. Maybe next time they would be less nervous about the new surroundings.
My first job for the day was to work with Indran and Mary on the Rescue Barn. As we started, I mentally tried to tabulate their ages and see if I was older than the two of them combined. As long as she was older than sixteen, which I am sure she was, their combined age exceeded mine. Thank goodness! I guess one of the signs that you are getting older is when age matters to you for reasons other than being able to vote or buy alcohol.
Since this was my first trip back since the “knife and keys incident”, there were some requisite jokes about it, both from Indran and Mike. I showed them my new knife that I bought on the way in, and said that I would consent to a pat-down before I left, as long as it didn’t involve one of those new-fangled scanners that can see through your clothes. I wasn’t sure that I was ready to get that personal with the crew at the Farm. With three people working on it, the Rescue Barn was cleaned in record time.
Next up was the Pig Barn. After our speedy cleaning of the Rescue Barn, it seemed like an opportune time to perform a full cleaning for the pigs, but Indran re-assured us that today would only be a spot cleaning. With a nice cool, clear day at hand, the pigs were much more agreeable to being roused than normal. We tore into the fouled bedding and were setting a pace to be done by noon. Not bad at all. I had been particularly lucky since I picked the side of the barn that seemed to have very little fouling and had spent my time primarily fluffing pig pillows.
We were now on to the Sheep and Goat Barn. We were a well oiled machine, raking and pitch-forking to the same beat when Mike #1 arrived. Since I hadn't seen Bliss earlier in the day and assumed that maybe Mike had come in later, I asked how she was doing. The look in Mike's eyes told me all that I needed to know and he could have remained silent and spared himself the pain of sharing with me that she had passed on. He had known that she may not be long for this earth and that was one of the reasons why it had been important to him to foster her, but it always comes before we are ready. I say "we" because it seems as if the human side of the pair holds on harder than the animal side. When it is time, they know and they seem to accept it peacefully.
I remembered holding my rat Steve-O's paw and crying into his fur at the UC Davis Veterinary Medical Center when his time came. I looked for any sense of blame or accusation in his eyes as he fell into a gentle sleep, but there was none. He looked at me with eyes full of love and an understanding that seemed to transcend the possible. When he had taken ill the day before, it had come as quite a surprise. I had returned from a trip and found him looking a lot thinner than he had when I left. Figuring that maybe he had missed a meal, I offered him his favorite treats which he gulped down hungrily. Then, he threw them back up.
Vomiting is not supposed to be on a rat's repertoire. It is supposed to be a physical impossibility. From a morbid stand-point, this is why rat poisons are so successful. Unlike most animals, they can't regurgitate them after they swallow them, and they are free to do their caustic business. I immediately rushed Steve-O to the emergency vet, who was unfortunately as baffled as we were. I kept a close eye on him over night and Lori took him to our regular vet first thing in the morning. Our vet has taken care of all of our rats and is very good at his job, but today even he was striking out. He could only scratch his head and recommend that we try UC Davis Veterinary Medical Center as a last resort. Most vets probably wouldn't offer this recommendation for a pet rat, but he knew how much our animals mean to us from personal experience. As soon as Lori called, I hit the road to meet her there.
It is about a two hour drive to UC Davis, which seems to take forever when you are in a hurry. I had a crude map, but was very confused about where I needed to go and got lost a couple times before finally arriving at the hospital. When I arrived, Lori had already been seen briefly and Steve-O was under observation. After a couple of hours, the vet talked to us about what they would be doing to try to diagnose him and we waited. We waited a long time, and when it became clear that we were likely to drive each other crazy with our combined worry, I encouraged Lori to go home. I would stay behind until we had a prognosis. When it came, in the early evening, it was not good. Steve-O could be kept overnight for more observation, but he was struggling. I asked to see him and when I saw his labored breathing with his little oxygen cone around his sweet snout, I knew what I had to do. I had to make the difficult decision to let him traverse the mortal coil and say goodbye to him. The tears flowed freely as I held his paw and cried into his soft downy hair. I stroked his big dumbo ears as his breathing slowed until it was gone. Then I held him in his little blanket, clearly for my sake and not for his and told him to wait for me on the other side.
As I saw the look in Mike's eyes, I knew all too well what he was feeling. I wished I hadn't asked, that I hadn't dredged up this painful feeling for him, but it was too late. I passed on my most sincere condolences.
Seemingly sensing that I was feeling sad, Bonnie brayed suddenly from the side stall of the Sheep and Goat Barn. This was my cue to go say hello to her and Waylon, who I was certain must be nearby. They were and I enjoyed some time between them. Bonnie was demure as ever and contentedly allowed me to hug on her. As I was doing this, I could over hear Mike and Indran talking about the Pig Barn. Apparently it was not only a good idea for the three of us to have been totaling the Pig Barn, due to our numbers, it was also part of the daily schedule. Oops! Luckily, the pigs hadn't been fed yet, so they were still down at the pond while we set to finishing what we started. I am sure they would have hated to be evicted again.
When Indran, Mary, and I were done, I went looking for Leanne. I was scheduled to go on noon rounds with her to check on all the animals. This consisted of counting them to make sure they were all present, looking for anything unusual, checking the fence lines for any gaps, and following up on any animals who had been reported to be acting oddly from the day before. Fortunately, we didn't find any issues, other than some difficulty in counting the Santa Cruz sheep who just don't seem to like standing still long enough. After three counts, we had the same number, which just happened to be the right number.
The cattle herd was the lost stop on our checks, and it was moving day for them. There is a rotation that keeps them in, literally, greener pastures. As we went out to move them, I was able to see areas of Farm Sanctuary that I had never seen before, and I was pretty impressed with the expanse. The land opened up before me to about twice the size of what I had previously seen on the front side and I could see the fabled straw field that the tractor had been heading off to during my last couple visits. This is where the soiled straw gets dumped and composts, revitalizing the grass below. As we approached the cows and I reminisced on their size and occasional stubbornness, I was curious as to how we were going to be able to get all of them to move. In the movies, I had always seen cowboys on horseback rounding them up as their hoofs kicked up dust and shook the ground beneath them. Maybe, I thought, Leanne was going to use the Mule as her modern day steed to the same effect. As it turned out, the truth was much simpler, and dare I say cuter, than anything I had envisioned. Standing above the herd at a slight elevation, Leanne began calling to them. "Come on cows", she said, first once then repeated at regular intervals. Not being the type who likes the sound of my own voice, and yet being at odds with the desire to be helpful, I started too. "Come on cows", I self-consciously yelled, hoping that my voice wouldn't echo back at me or choose this moment to crack. Slowly, but surely, the cattle took notice. I was very surprised to see Mario coming up first. He is a super-cool, mellow cow, but I would have never pictured him as their leader. Here he was though, the leader of the pack/herd, and they slowly fell in behind him. Watching a line of cows, proceeding slowly and of their own accord up a small hill path was so much more peaceful than the way the cowboys on TV and in movies did it. It was quite the sight to behold. As Phoenix passed by, Leanne told me that his brother Casey had recently passed away. The death had been unexpected and it was suspected to be heart related. This was sad news, indeed. Phoenix was now the last of the three calves that had arrived here together back in 2007. I had never had the chance to meet Billy, but I had always been touched by how closely Phoenix and Casey stayed to each other. They clearly had a special bond and I wondered what Phoenix was thinking. I had read and heard stories of cattle mourning for their fallen brothers and sisters and, it may just be me looking for something, but it seemed that Phoenix had lost a little spring in his step.
As I reflected back on my first meeting with Casey and Phoenix, many months ago, I felt sorrow for his passing and for not seeking him out more in my recent visits. I love volunteering at the Farm, but it means that I often get blinded by duty and forget to take the time to smell the roses and visit with my farm friends. The fact that my adopted farm family is ever-growing further complicates matters for me in this regard. This regret is a common theme for me when I hear this type of news and I imagine it must be incredibly hard to be a caretaker for these animals and see them pass away into whatever awaits them in the after-life. I take some solace in the knowledge that if there is a Heaven, it wouldn't be complete without the animals who give us a little slice of Heaven here on Earth. Perhaps these earthly angels are simply called back home with an otherworldly "Come on cows". Yeah, that is what I need to believe.
They continued through a narrow fenced corridor until all almost all of them were in the new pasture. I marveled, as always, at Fritz as his immense body lumbered by, looking less like a cow and more like an oddly painted school bus. Petting him on his sides, I looked down the corridor to see our lone straggler. Any guesses as to who it was? Of course, it was Whitaker, who had chosen to take his time and was currently indulging in a snack of green grass. Silly boy! In her Farm wisdom, Leanne knew that trying to cajole Whitaker would be ultimately futile and frustrating and that he would eventually make it to the pasture on "Whitaker time", so we let him do his thing.
As we walked back to the Mule, Leanne shared the information that they may be getting a new friend for Whitaker. Apparently, another juvenile cow may be coming to the Farm from an unspecified source, and the hope is that he and Whitaker will be able to bond and form their own "mini-herd" before getting re-introduced to the main herd. This would be wonderful since seeing Whitaker set off to the fringe of the herd, either of his own choosing or due to not fitting in, has always been a painful sight for me. I imagine this is even harder for the staff members who remember him as the little baby who arrived over a year ago and want only the best for him. I can't wait to hear if this works out or not.
Before leaving the cows, we needed to get their water troughs set up in the new area. This meant re-routing the hoses that feed the troughs. Now a single hose can often pose too much of a challenge for me to untangle and un-kink so I was way out of my league with these. Each hose length was about 6 hoses long and many of the hoses had seen better days. I needed to shorten the length, either by removing hoses or strategically routing them out of the way, and rumor had it that there were some leaky hoses in the chain which should probably be pulled out. I felt like a bumbling, fumbling, and occasionally mumbling idiot as I went about trying to accomplish these goals. Why can't I figure out hoses and cables? I must have sinned against a hose or cable in a past life and accumulated a bunch of bad hose/cable karma. Either that or I am just plain dumber than the pesky inanimate objects. I will have to hope it is the past life karma thing. Yeah, that's easier to accept.
After wrapping up my work with Leanne, who I respect immensely (Although if she saw me with the hoses, I can't be sure the feeling is mutual after watching my lack of hose skills), I had some other miscellaneous chores before I was able to segue way into some animal time. On my way to visit Coco and Melvin, I found Harrison and Loretta. Harrison had gotten a cut on his back so he was isolated from the rest of the herd while it healed, but he had some company. His mother, Loretta, was looking after him, as she always has, and I would challenge any skeptic to look at the pictures below (The lower one if from the Farm Sanctuary website) and tell me that these animals do not share a very real bond, one that is all too familiar to the human experience. If you can't see it here, you are too far gone to be saved.
After watching Loretta keeping her one good eye on Harrison and doling out licks to his neck and side, I headed over to see Melvin and Coco. Coco will always have a special place for me, but Melvin is developing one too. Whereas Coco can be a bit more aloof, Melvin is pretty social and will come right over to me when I come in to visit. I like to think that he can sense my love for him and wants to be close to that. Whatever the reason, it is nice to have a willing buddy on my visits. After saying, "Hello", he lingered nearby and ate some grass. The grass was starting to change from vibrant green to a rustling pale yellow and the goats were competing for the remaining green shoots. While Coco also allowed a short visit, they were both absorbed in the grass hunt, and I soon found myself transfixed by just watching goats be goats.
Mary soon joined me and we sat on the slight hill watching the goats and sheep mill about before us. Watching the serenity of the scene, I wondered what goats would think of humans if the roles were reversed. They would probably gaze upon us with confusion, wondering why we constantly darted to and fro, and too busy thinking of what was coming next to live in the moment. Would they scoff at the notion that life is about a never ending series of tomorrows? What would they think of our hollow pursuit of possessions and material legacy? Would they pity us for the loss of simplicity in our lives? How have let ourselves becomes so complicated and so layered? More than anything right now, I wish I were a goat. While this will never be, the gentle breeze and undulating grass frames a scene that I, we, could learn a lot from.
Leaving is always too hard. The call of the road is always beckoning as the afternoon wanes and I think of the long drive home, but it always feels like I am cheating myself of some more precious moments in this world that brings me joy. Even when that joy is meted out with a portion of sadness, as was the case today, there is purity to it all that I just don't find elsewhere. I have tried to find it in the "real world", but the best I can muster are isolated pockets of peace and wonder. Once you feel it, it draws you in, like a healthy addiction targeting your heart and mind. Today, for me, the Farm represents a missing piece of my puzzle and it is always painful to leave that piece behind and see myself as somehow incomplete when I get home. It is this longing for completeness along with my sincere love for all of my farm friends that keeps calling me back. See you soon!
