Musings on Celebration for the Turkeys 2012

Today we had our Celebration for the Turkeys in Orland.  While the weather was iffy, the rain held off for most of the day.  I think it took all of our good karma to preempt a storm.  I was assigned to the Sheep and Goat Barn which meant that I would be hanging out with and talking about some of my best friends.  This was happy news for me. 

I had decided that Madeline and Molly would be included as part of the guest experience.  Madeline and Molly were normally relegated to the "penalty box" during tours since they could be a little rowdy, but I had faith in them.  Add to that the fact that they are so darn cute and it feels like keeping them away from the people would be short-changing them. 

I mean come on, they are fricking adorable!

The guests started coming in around 1:15 and everything went really well.  Madeline was adorable and Molly was preternaturally photogenic.  I suspect that they are both Facebook celebrities by now (I will never know since I will never use Facebook again). 

The first couple hours went by really quick.  While there was a steady flow of people in and out, I had ample opportunity to answer questions and share personal anecdotes.  It was around that time that I heard a high pitched scream.  A brief investigation yielded a report that Madeline had "butted" a small child.  Now, it needs to be noted that Madeline is my baby, and like any good parent, I will go to my grave convinced that it was the kid's fault and that my little angel was in the right. 

However, since I was on the job, I had to be diplomatic.  I sprang into action and ensured that the child wasn't hurt and his father confirmed that he was fine.  The boy, who was probably about four, was not acting like it though and eventually his dad asked if he wanted to leave.  Through tears and in a wavering voice, he replied "No", and alluded to the fact that the "mean goat was by the door."  In order to resolve the situation, I tried to direct Madeline into a side stall, but she wasn't interested.  She was quite adamant that she was the victim and didn't like the fact that I was taking the boy's side without hearing her side of the story.  She wasn't budging and the only way I was going to get her out of the door was to pick her up.

Before I go on, I need to share a little back story.  As I was preparing my clothes for today I had set aside three shirts, three pairs of shorts, three pairs of socks, and three pairs of underwear in preparation for a wet and muddy work day.  I had also meant to bring my belt, but when I got to work, I proved the adage that "the road to hell is paved with good intentions".  This wouldn't be a problem if I has still as heavy as I used to be, but since I had lost some inches around the waist it put me at a risk of losing my shorts without a belt.  As a triage I had rolled the waistband over which has the effect of tightening them enough to keep them above my hips with an occasional pull up from time to time.

Back to Madeline.  She continued to protest her innocence and as I focused on her horns which posed the greater damage, her little kicking legs unrolled the top of my shorts and gravity teamed up with my knife and radio to make them start dropping.  Standing there with two hands full of goat I couldn't hike my shorts back up so I had no choice but to drop to my knees, which was coincidentally where the waistband of my shorts were!  I sat down and tried to pull my shirt down while restraining Madeline long enough for the boy and his father to leave...but they didn't.  They just stood there.  Meanwhile, the sight of me with Madeline in my lap was drawing a number of "Oohs" and "Aahs" and flashes from cameras.  As if that wasn't bad enough, Joey, an adorable lamb who had been shadowing me most of the day, decided to come over and visit with me and Madeline.  More pictures were taken in what seemed like an eternity as I waited to be able to let Madeline go. 

Finally the man and his son walked out and I let Madeline go.  This wasn't the end of my ordeal, however.  Now I was sitting with my shorts around my knees with the daunting challenge of getting them pulled back up without it being too obvious; and it's not like I could just sit there and formulate a plan because without Madeline on my lap my predicament was even more obvious than before.

I would like to believe that I pulled it off discretely without anyone being any the wiser but I have to wonder if the people with the cameras will see the image in a whole new light when they see their pictures blown up across their computer screens.  Maybe 2012 be known as the year where indecent exposure was on the menu at the Celebration for the Turkeys!

Just Another Day at the Office

Since I had a two hour lunch today, I had some extra time to hand out with some of my friends at work.  First, I would like to introduce Gwendolyn Duck (Or Gwennie, for short).  She has been with us for a little over a month now. 

She is quite a character, and by far the loudest duck on the Farm.  It has been fun watching her be introduced to the world around her.  When she first arrived, she was in a small isolation stall with a water bowl that was barely bigger than she was.  This wouldn't stop her from jumping in and quite literally being the big duck in a small pond.  After a few weeks, she became a small duck in a big pond.  This new world wasn't always easy for her.  Initially she was stalked by Della Duck around the yard before making friends with Gordy Duck (Sadly she is a girl with a boy's name).  It was adorable to see Gordy intercept Della as she was tailing Gwennie.  The video below features a good shot of Gwen at her water bowl, a chance encounter with Gordy, and a swim in the pond.  Gordy's quacks are reminiscent of a child calling to their mother: "Mom, watch me.  Mom, see how fast I am...Mom...Mom...You're not watching!"

After visiting with Gwen and her friends, I paid a visit to the Pig Barn.  I had an apple left in my pocket from my trip to feed Edward Cow some treats earlier and I knew just who to share it with...Cesak.  I shot some more video of him eating it and captured a funny response as Reggie Pig heard the chomping and tried to confirm that Cesak had an apple by smelling his breath and, at one point, seemed intent to extract it from his mouth!

Cesak then repaid my treat by laying on my lap and going to sleep.  The sound of pig snoring kept me from drifting off to sleep, but it was probably better to be in the moment.

Lastly, I visited with my old Goat Buddies and promised I would post their pictures.

First is "my baby" Madeline.  Isn't she lovely!



She really likes being scratched between her horns...

...and on her chin.  Every goat seems to have a slightly different sweet spot, but between the horns is pretty common.  A closer inspection of her left horn seems to invalidate her claim that she hasn't been picking on the sheep since there is a suspicious tuft of wool in it.

Madeline then introduced her friend Molly.  She and Molly get "play dates" every Saturday during tour season since they can get a little rowdy with visitors and they have bonded over these.

Madeline bet Molly that she couldn't touch her nose with her tongue...

...and then used the opportunity to photo bomb her (Molly looks less than impressed)!

While Madeline was off laughing it up, Molly let me get this beautiful shot of her smile.

And those were some of my exploits for the day and the reasons why I do what I do.  It is particularly nice to enjoy your job when you look at the alternative...I Wouldn't Want to be This Guy!

Everything I Know I Learned from Chickens

In the spirit of "recycling", I figured I would make a blog entry out of a recent project that I was working on for a friend of mine who was moving on to her next life adventure.  I hope that it will fill the overall theme of this blog and be entertaining.

When you see your reflection, always check to make sure that you are smiling.


 

Make a joyful noise wherever you go.
 

Curiosity may have killed the cat, but it defines the chicken.
 

Some chickens are just jerks and there's not much we can do about it.

The best way to approach a challenge is one bite at a time.

It's cool to be a trend-setter, even if no one else follows you.

In times of abundance, it's important to share.

Sometimes the "biggest worm you've ever seen" turns out to be a garden hose in disguise.

If you've got it, flaunt it!



(Dust) baths make every day a little bit more bearable.

You can be the"pot of gold" at the end of some one's rainbow.

Sometimes the grass is greener on the other side of the fence.

When your wings are clipped, welcome it as an invitation to reacquaint yourself with things close to home.

Keeping your head down when things get too crazy is a sound strategy.

You can't always choose your situation, but you can choose to make the best of it.

The chicken crossed the road to get where she was going.

The best place in the world will always be among friends.

Chickens don't have a word for goodbye because you are never far from their hearts.

My Lunch Mates

Today was somewhat of an annoying day, so I think that it is a good time to turn that around by sharing a recent memory that will certainly be filed along with my most cherished.

Lately I have taken to hanging out with the pigs at lunch time, after I have finished eating (You would not want to try eating in there, trust me!).    This generally takes the form of me hanging out with Cesak, my BPFF (Best Pig Friend Forever).  On this particular day, I was resting my head on Cesak's side while reading a book.  He was sleeping, but would periodically sniff and snort to see if there was anything interesting going on.  I had been reading for some time when Reggie Pig came walking by.  Reggie is hilarious because he is the youngest and smallest of the pigs, but he is fearless in challenging the rest of the mob (That is an approved term for a group of pigs...I looked it up).

Since Reggie was making a loud ruckus, I expected that my peaceful moment with Cesak was nearing its end.  The two of them went back and forth with some oinks before Reggie proceeded to lay himself on my lap.

After the initial shock of having "little" Reggie join me, I had to pause to marvel in just how cool this was.  There are many magical moments that I have experienced, but it is always particularly special when our animal friends seek us out for these unions. 

Before he joined us here at the Sanctuary, Reggie was destined to be slaughtered as part of a writer's exploitative story.  I only wish that she had been there to experience who Reggie has become, and to see him in a whole new light.

This bonding experience made my day and reliving this memory has snapped me out of the slight funk I carried home with me.  Thanks Reggie!

My Two Right Feet

Each summer at the Farm brings two unwelcome guests: Star thistles and foxtails.  The star thistles make wearing shorts problematic and the foxtails get stuck in your shoes and socks and make walking a real misery.  This summer, I stumbled upon a remedy when I was at the local Army Navy Surplus Store.  They are marketed as Israeli Army boots and they are the only cheap animal product free boot that I have ever come across.  They wrap tightly around the ankle and keep stuff from getting in my shoes and prevent ankle cuts.  Not knowing how long they may be available, I stocked up on a couple boxes in my size (For once they actually had only my size). 

Unfortunately, I never thought to check the boxes and the second one (The ones I didn't try on) contained two right boots and no left.  I am bad at keeping my receipts so I just resigned myself to having wasted $20.  The box stayed in the back of my truck since there seemed to be little point in bringing it inside the house.

About a week later, I was feeding the pigs at work.  This has become a little more of a tricky proposition lately and it is the equivalent of a porcine mosh-pit where I am the scrawny guy getting battered about by six hundred pounders who I know are not going to try to help me up if I go down.  In the process of filling the troughs, Lucas stepped on the back of my right shoe and the stitching between the canvas and the sole ripped wide open.

Suddenly my recent purchase had a new value as I was able to use one of my right shoes from the back of my truck to remedy the situation.  The "old Brian" may have lamented the fact that his shoes didn't exactly match due to differences in wear, but not this enlightened fellow.

The next week I was doing feeds again and I soaked my right shoe when I was washing the water bowls.  Over the course of the day this proceeded to make my foot extremely uncomfortable.  The next day, I was surprised to find that the shoe had not dried out, despite the scorching temperature and it was becoming very painful to walk.  About half way through the day, I recalled my last mis-matched shoe and promptly swapped it out.

The morale to this story is that while you may not intend to buy two right shoes, sometimes the universe knows that this is actually what you need and makes provision.

Advocacy Makes a First Impression

I have been struggling to figure out a way to write this entry without coming across as self-congratulatory.  In parallel with that, I have also been keenly aware of the number of days since my last entry and, as such, I have decided to just roll with it.  Besides, I have been going through a rough patch lately and could use a pat on the back, even if it is a self administered one.

It's been a couple years now since I enjoyed two brief moments of "Farm Sanctuary celebrity".  The first was when I unexpectedly won the "Friend of Farm Animals Award (West)" for 2010 and the second was when I was the top fundraiser for the Berkeley Walk for Farm Animals.  In each case my opinion was suddenly in demand in terms of how to be a good advocate for Farm Animals and how to parlay that to the most powerful effect.  My responses in both cases were the same.  I believe that we have excellent opportunities to advance our respective causes just by being good and kind people.  The first impression that we make extends to beyond some one's impression of us but also encompasses their future impressions of any messages we may choose to share.  The bottom line: If people like you, they will be more open to your message because the door will be open. 

Now in writing that, I am immediately aware of the fact that this could be interpreted as "salesmanship", and in its purest sense, I guess you could say it is.  It is a shame that this admirable trait has been sullied by the industries that conspire to use it against us in unseemly ways.  What I am recommending is probably better classified as "conscious kindness and sincerity". 

Several years ago, I remember reading a book called, "Now Discover Your Strengths".  I would be lying if I said I remembered everything about the book, but the core tenant stuck with me.  The book was basically about recognizing the things that you are good at and giving yourself credit for those and developing them.  It wasn't until I had the chance to meet some seemingly angry, militant advocates that I realized that I had the strength of conscious kindness and sincerity.  While I don't want to discredit the militants' message (Mostly because it is in sync with my own), I for one was alienated by them and disinterested in what they had to say in spite of their obvious passion for it. 

As an example of what I mean by this concept, I will refer to a recent paragraph from the Sacramento Valley Mirror written by Darlene Friesen in her "About Town" column:

If you want to reach your potential as an advocate, always remember that you are a key part of your message, if not the most important part..

Just Outta Reach

My goal of twelve months of perfect attendance at my new job was crushed yesterday.  Neither rain, wind, snuffly nose, nor aching joints could prevent me from timely arrival at work, but my supposedly reliable Toyota did.  I was driving to work at the normal time and my eyes were drawn to the instrument panel by something that didn't look quite right.  Normally my temperature gauge is right in the middle of range, but today it was near the top.  While the temperature outside was barely above freezing, the temperature in my engine was nearing the opposite end of the scale. 

This event shouldn't have been a complete surprise.  Even I, blessed as I am with eternal optimism, had been unable to ignore the fact that my car was noisier than usual.  Adding to that, Lori had been nice enough to point out that their were small puddles under my car.  I just prayed that it would make it through the week so I could fix it on my own time.  That wasn't to be.

So, what was I to do?  When I was in Navy Nuclear training, the instructors used to always compare various components to their equivalents in cars.  This seemed to work well for the gear-heads, but I was not one of them.  I found myself doing the exact opposite as I tried to interpret what I was seeing as a function of a reactor.  My coolant temperature was clearly going up.  Since my engine is not capable of super criticality, I could rule that out.  I pulled over and didn't see anything obvious that could be blocking air flow across my radiator and in the time that it took for me to inspect it, the temperature came down off the peg a bit.  I only had a couple miles to go until I reached a gas station and I decided to try for it.  I had come dressed for work which normally involves thin layers that I could shed as I heated up from raking.  This would probably not work too well during a two mile walk in this temperature. 

As I got back on the highway with my hazards on and daring only a meager forty miles an hour, I saw a sign that I once again recognized from my training.  My temperature gauge dropped immediately from pegged high (It had quickly worked its way back up) to pegged low.  This was an indication of a catastrophic coolant rupture.  In my past life this would have initiated a reactor SCRAM, a shutting of the main steam stops, isolation of the affected coolant loop, and other tasks that I probably shouldn't elaborate on here.  None of these really applied, except for "SCRAM-ing" or turning off my car to minimize the addition of heat (The term "SCRAM" allegedly is an acronym for "Super Critical Reactor Axe Man" from the days when reactor control rods were lifted by ropes and the cutting of the ropes would drive it sub-critical). 

Navy legend had it that the Captain had a book that contained the real operating limits for tactical situations - limits that exceeded the normal operating ones for the boat.  With one mile to go, I ad-libbed the operating limits for my car and kept on going with nothing but the air blowing across my engine to cool it.  Without coolant, my heater was no longer working so I was feeling pretty darn cool myself.

I made it to the gas station without my car dying, but the coolant rupture was quickly confirmed when I tried to add some via the overflow reservoir.  It all promptly came out the bottom.  For the record, the woman working the graveyard shift at the Chevron at the corner of Notre Dame Avenue and Skyway in Chico was very kind and as supportive as she could have been.  The same could be said for Ed at Chuck Patterson Toyota (who worked with the warranty folks to get my repairs covered and actually kept me updated on how things were progressing.  In my "cough-cough" thirty nine years on this earth this was the first time that I left a car dealership not feeling violated and I would strongly recommend them.

My lessons learned from this early morning adventure were:

1. Some goals may be admirable yet ultimately unattainable.
2. There still are decent people in the world, although they don't get the press coverage that they deserve.
3. A little kindness and understanding brings out the best in people.
4. If I want to keep any of my residual dignity, I should probably at least pretend to care about these types of obvious signs, especially if my wife has noticed them.  As it is, the "told-ya-sos" are kinda scathing ;)