I must admit that I had never heard of Harvest Home Sanctuary in Stockton before I received an invitation to their "Toast to the Turkeys" event. The drive there was uneventful, but showed that relying on GPS over gut instinct isn't always a good thing. The GPS took me through town to 580 rather than going up 680 to 580 which would have been much quicker. Oh well, I still got there half an hour early. As I got closer, the scenery became much prettier, with vineyards and warm pastures land. I was surprised to see that the sanctuary was relatively small, but the warmth of the people there and the sweet animals more than compensated. In a lot of ways, this represented my dream of having a piece of land to retire on and which I can share with animal friends. I was smitten.
I immediately met one of the turkeys, named Burl, as I got out of my car. He was the biggest turkey I have ever seen and his feet were massive. He was a heritage breed and was undergoing some treatment for weight control since his previous owners had allowed him to get too big for his frame to support. He was gorgeous, however, and I couldn't resist petting him. As I did that, more and more people arrived until there were probably about sixty or so. I had come alone since I was going to the Farm afterwards for a day of volunteering and it was nice to see familiar faces like Molly, Kim, and Deborah. Around back in the dick and geese area, I found Shani who has spent a lot of time there and introduced me to many of the feathered residents. I also had the pleasure of meeting some new goats; Chigal, Matisse, Coconut, and Mocha. Behind the barn, I could see a horse named Maggie May who had been rescued from abuse and cruelty and hadn't quite forgotten to fear man. She was beautiful, even from a distance.
(Picture provided by Kim Flaherty)
The sanctuary was also the home to a number of rabbits of various sizes and it was cool to watch them cavorting about. They were allowed inside and outside in a patio and they would dart back and forth and seemed to have a wonderful life. As I was being introduced to them, I couldn't help thinking that I had never seen so many rabbits in one place before.
Dinner was great and the fact that it was served in a delightfully charming farm house made it feel all the more intimate. This was followed by watching the feeding of the turkeys and the obligatory toast, although I had foolishly neglected to get a glass and could only raise my hand for the gesture. The turkey is such an amazing animal and it is so unfortunate that most people never have a chance to meet one. I am firmly convinced that if more people did have the opportunity to be introduced, they would see something very surprising. These are not stupid birds, as we are taught and told in our youth. They are highly curious, very social, and almost constantly communicating through sounds...and not just gobble-gobble. The fact that we can't understand what they are saying says more about us than it does about them. They can even communicate in color via their waddles and in shape via the presentation of their snood. I learn more about them every time I meet them and I wish that others would do the same instead of relying on blind conformity.
As a testament to the event, the allotted time was over far too soon and I felt compelled to help out by opening and shutting the gates for the procession of departing cars. After saying my goodbyes, I also made for the highway and found myself making good time to the Farm, or more accurately, to the Orland Inn since I would be heading to the Farm in the morning.
This volunteer day was pretty much like the rest - awesome, so I won't linger too much on the details, other than one of my tasks which I found worth pondering. When I looked at my task list in the morning, I saw that I was supposed to take the red van and go pick up some pumpkins from a farm that were donated for the Thanksgiving for Turkeys. The rest of my schedule changed rapidly when one of the caregivers called in sick and I ended up doing small barn cleaning instead of some of the other tasks. By the time I was ready to set out for the pumpkins, I was running behind schedule and was in a hurry. As I left the Farm, I discovered that I did not like driving the van very much. It had massive blind spots and I couldn't figure out for the life of me how to adjust the seat so I felt way too far forward. I decided to stop by the gas station and get something to drink. After finding something that suited my taste, I went to pay for it, only to recognize that my wallet wasn't in my pocket. Oh crap, I left it in my car. I apologized and put the drink back in the refrigerator case. Since I was already late, I didn't think I could afford to go back to the Farm to get it and lose another twenty minutes, so I headed to Interstate Five and read my directions for the first time. The pumpkin farm was in Redding which was sixty miles away. Round-trip this represented a long way to go without my driver's license, but I had already decided that I couldn't afford to go back and get it.
After about five minutes of driving, after which I had changed my hand position on the steering wheel, I noticed that the air bag light was blinking. Imagining the fun of having the air bag deploy while I was driving and then having to explain why I was driving without a license, never mind ID'ing the body of the air bag deployment preceded a particularly nasty crash was a little concerning. The last concern came a few minutes later as I noted that there was only a quarter of a tank of gas in the van. Would that be enough to make it one hundred and twenty miles? I knew that it wouldn't be in my truck, but by now, I couldn't exactly turn back and lose forty minutes. So I watched the gas gauge closely, looking for any deflection that would allow me to gauge the distance I could go.
By the time I got to Redding, I was worried. I had a little over one-eighth of a tank left which meant that I had used up half my gas on the way here. As I loaded the thirty three pumpkins, many of them quite large, into the van, I pondered how much this additional weight would impact my mileage. The hour drive back was nerve-wracking as I imagined throwing myself on the mercy of others for help. Ah yes, I forgot to mention that I has also forgotten my cell-phone which was in my car, so if I ran out of gas, I was not going to be able to call for help and would have to rely on what aid my good karma may facilitate.
As it turned out, I did make it back okay and didn't have as much cause for alarm as I had worried, but it made me think a lot. My driver's license, my wallet and accompanying money, my cell phone, a knowledge of the expected gas mileage for the van, even the air bag warning light, all of these things are metaphorical. Under normal circumstances, we would consider resolving these issues as critical to a trip like this, but when we are rushed or distracted, we forget.
First there is my driver's license which is a proxy for my identity. Not having your identity should always be cause for alarm since who you are should be the primary guidance in any situation you find yourself in. The wallet and cell phone represent my support infrastructure and are critical to planning a trip or living one's life. The knowledge of the van, both the mileage and what the air bag warning light mean, are symbolic of knowing your own limitations and liabilities. The fact that I was behind schedule is akin to the feeling most of us feel where we feel like we are being outpaced by others around us or that there is an urgency pushing us faster than we would normally choose to go (Even if we don't understand the reason for the urgency). As I looked at the situation I had placed myself in and the disproportionate amount of anxiety it had caused, I couldn't help wondering whether my fears were for the literal or the figurative meaning of my trip. All I know is that, having pondered it, I do see a lesson to be learned and I will never it.
