Nothing is certain but death and taxes. So someone said. Taxes for sure. Maybe death this December. So Nostradamus says. Well, I know for certain that every year I turn a year older, closer to death, and because of that, on my birthday, I eat ice cream for breakfast. The older I get the more I eat. Soon, I'll be needing more than two pints.
Children will lose teeth, grow, eat and leave their socks around. The seasons will change. Paul Bunyan will cut down trees. The weeds will grow in my garden, more than the vegetables. The hydrangea tree by the pond will only bloom a few blooms. My oven will always be dirty. These are just the things I can always rely on.
And on the first Monday in May we shear the alpacas. It's been that way since the beginning- whenever that was. And it has never rained. Until this year when we switched it today- a Tuesday. But it didn't matter because it's still a really really dirty job, whether it's muddy or not. I'm the one responsible for picking up all the fiber and separating it into plastic bags. There are three parts to the fiber- the blanket, which comes off the alpaca first, the seconds (neck) and the thirds, which are the legs and face and head and tail and shit and pee and vomit. Paul Bunyan holds their heads while Tom, the shearer, does his work. He gets spit on and thrown around a little. And it's dirty. You get fiber in your mouth, up your nose and under your toes. And the smell stays with you. For a long time. And there really is nothing you can do...but laugh.
I hope this video gives you a sense of how funny it sometimes can be:
Showing posts with label alpacas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label alpacas. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
The Beasts are Naked and Shivering
Well, we didn't have the comic relief of last year. So it sure was quieter this year. However, we had four less helpers, two less alpacas, and one new shearer.
But things went swimingly. Besides it being the kind of job that leaves you with dirty boogers and the scent of shit under you skin, Paul Bunyan and I feel cleaner after shearing day. All toenails are cut.
All teeth are trimmed.
Which is by far the very worst part of the day.
By far. By far. By far. But the smell of burning bone may have seemed worse this year because I had not eaten for two days.
And today is my fourth day of not eating.
I'll tell you about it some day.
But my hope and dream is that I feel cleansed.
And renewed and refreshed and refurbished and rejuvenated and restored. There is a lot of that going on around here. I can't wait to share it with you when it's all complete. Spring can be a glorious thing. I'm very glad, however, that I'm not a naked alpaca shivering in this damp winter weather, which is clinging to our legs like a naughty toddler.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Alpacapalooza 2010
I still lay awake some nights thinking WHY? But it appears that we are, and probably will be, alpaca farmers for a very long time. And I still don't know why. But here I sit with my spinning wheel to my right and mite salve to my left and I'm somewhere in the middle. I generally don't have to deal with the animals. And this is okay with me because then I'd be laying awake far more nights wondering why. However, there are a few times out of the year I need to be present; for example, when Paul Bunyan goes to work and an alpaca dies on my shift, in my arms, I need to be present. Or, for example, when Paul Bunyan leaves the farm to visit with members of the Mothership, and fences fail and alpacas are heading down the mountain to find greener pastures. Or twice a year when I'm called upon to wrestle an alpaca on toe nail clipping day. Or there was this one time at band camp when Jumping Jack sliced open his foot on the snow plow blade and Paul Bunyan decided to start soaking it and shooting his ass up with penicillin on New Year's Eve...after we'd had a few too many. Those were all memorable nights I needed to be present.
But then there is shearing day. And shearing day is always the first Monday morning in May. And shearing day is the day I bake scones before 7. And shearing day is the day I scoop the kids off to school as fast as I can. And shearing day is the day that I have labels labeled the night before to put on plastic bags for fiber. And shearing day is the day I look forward to THE MOST on the farm. It's somehow about me.
But thankfully we had the Simsbury crew up to help this year to help us out. Many hands make light work.
These are Paul Bunyan's high school buddies who miraculously left Connecticut at 4 a.m. and miraculously survived a harrowing drive North in record time to arrive just before any shearing began. Here we have Scott and Matt in the back row and Meagan and Brian in the front row. And you know who the half naked guy is. We all had to talk him into putting at least a towel on for the picture. You can see how Matt is leaning away from his naked ass. And do you see how Meagan has her eyes closed in the photo? She was mumbling something under her breath about Scott's dirty-ass hand on her shoulder. I think I heard something like, "get your dirty stinkin' alpaca spit/shit hand off my shoulder".
All I can say is that car must have STANK on the way home. Oh, and thanks guys for lending your hands, and feet, and elbows, and good eyes, and f-bombs, and laughter to this annual event.
But back to the action at hand. We really love our shearer who drives two hours from Jay, N.Y. to help us out. He had two other farms to hit before heading home last night!
I can't even tell you who this alpaca is. When they get all their hairs cut, I can't tell them apart! Kinda like the twins. And when they get pushed back out to pasture they sniff each other up and down, as if they're trying to figure it out too.
Jim is really good with the trimmers. I only noticed a few nicks on his own thumb.
Paul Bunyan is trying to figure out how he can do this without having to hire someone.
Well, the beautiful thing about shearing day is that everyone gets trimmed up nice and close.
They love to scratch their backs on the fence and roll around in the grass after their "blankets" are shed. Paul Bunyan does the same thing when I shave his back.
"Hey, You're lookin' pretty good. How you doin?"
I'd like to introduce you to a few of our rookies. These were the four first timers we had this year:
This is Earl. Matt (see above) had a pretty strong bond with Earl- which may have something to do with the fact that his nuts haven't dropped yet. I don't know though. Earl is small for his age but I think he has strong promise, especially with regards to his fiber...not necessarily his future breeding prowess. Especially if he has no nuts.
This is Sprinter (aka Cronus' REVENGE). Cronus was the alpaca no one liked who somehow snuck in a surprise offspring into the herd before passing away last summer. Sprinter is a joyful spirit and will add a lovely dark brown to the fiber colors being offered this year.
This sweet girl is Stars and Stripes. She'll be entering the show ring this fall for us. She is a beautiful girl with gorgeous fiber, which (I, ME) will enter into a fiber competition this fall. I particularly loved being able to see her stripes shine when her neck hair came off. She's going to be a contender!!
And last, but not least, is Lightning- born in a lightning storm. Her fiber is DIRTY and will unfortunately have to be sent off to be cleaned at the cleaners. Someone needs to talk to the management because this fiber processing girl can't deal with that kind of dirt. Lightning is a sweet heart and may be becoming one of my silent favorites. Her soft cria fleece will be a real treat to spin when it comes back to me clean.
And so now my fiber work begins. But also, too, the planning for 2011 Alpacapalooza. Supposedly someone is hiring bands and vendors. And Paul Bunyan is thinking about cutting a few trees for parking spaces and tent sites. Oh, that reminds me, I should reserve a few party tents. I hope you'll be able to get a ticket. I have a suspicion they'll set out fast. But I'll keep you posted.
But then there is shearing day. And shearing day is always the first Monday morning in May. And shearing day is the day I bake scones before 7. And shearing day is the day I scoop the kids off to school as fast as I can. And shearing day is the day that I have labels labeled the night before to put on plastic bags for fiber. And shearing day is the day I look forward to THE MOST on the farm. It's somehow about me.
But thankfully we had the Simsbury crew up to help this year to help us out. Many hands make light work.
These are Paul Bunyan's high school buddies who miraculously left Connecticut at 4 a.m. and miraculously survived a harrowing drive North in record time to arrive just before any shearing began. Here we have Scott and Matt in the back row and Meagan and Brian in the front row. And you know who the half naked guy is. We all had to talk him into putting at least a towel on for the picture. You can see how Matt is leaning away from his naked ass. And do you see how Meagan has her eyes closed in the photo? She was mumbling something under her breath about Scott's dirty-ass hand on her shoulder. I think I heard something like, "get your dirty stinkin' alpaca spit/shit hand off my shoulder".
All I can say is that car must have STANK on the way home. Oh, and thanks guys for lending your hands, and feet, and elbows, and good eyes, and f-bombs, and laughter to this annual event.
But back to the action at hand. We really love our shearer who drives two hours from Jay, N.Y. to help us out. He had two other farms to hit before heading home last night!
I can't even tell you who this alpaca is. When they get all their hairs cut, I can't tell them apart! Kinda like the twins. And when they get pushed back out to pasture they sniff each other up and down, as if they're trying to figure it out too.
Jim is really good with the trimmers. I only noticed a few nicks on his own thumb.
Paul Bunyan is trying to figure out how he can do this without having to hire someone.
Well, the beautiful thing about shearing day is that everyone gets trimmed up nice and close.
They love to scratch their backs on the fence and roll around in the grass after their "blankets" are shed. Paul Bunyan does the same thing when I shave his back.
"Hey, You're lookin' pretty good. How you doin?"
I'd like to introduce you to a few of our rookies. These were the four first timers we had this year:
This is Earl. Matt (see above) had a pretty strong bond with Earl- which may have something to do with the fact that his nuts haven't dropped yet. I don't know though. Earl is small for his age but I think he has strong promise, especially with regards to his fiber...not necessarily his future breeding prowess. Especially if he has no nuts.
This is Sprinter (aka Cronus' REVENGE). Cronus was the alpaca no one liked who somehow snuck in a surprise offspring into the herd before passing away last summer. Sprinter is a joyful spirit and will add a lovely dark brown to the fiber colors being offered this year.
This sweet girl is Stars and Stripes. She'll be entering the show ring this fall for us. She is a beautiful girl with gorgeous fiber, which (I, ME) will enter into a fiber competition this fall. I particularly loved being able to see her stripes shine when her neck hair came off. She's going to be a contender!!
And last, but not least, is Lightning- born in a lightning storm. Her fiber is DIRTY and will unfortunately have to be sent off to be cleaned at the cleaners. Someone needs to talk to the management because this fiber processing girl can't deal with that kind of dirt. Lightning is a sweet heart and may be becoming one of my silent favorites. Her soft cria fleece will be a real treat to spin when it comes back to me clean.
And so now my fiber work begins. But also, too, the planning for 2011 Alpacapalooza. Supposedly someone is hiring bands and vendors. And Paul Bunyan is thinking about cutting a few trees for parking spaces and tent sites. Oh, that reminds me, I should reserve a few party tents. I hope you'll be able to get a ticket. I have a suspicion they'll set out fast. But I'll keep you posted.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Cronus' Revenge
I don't think I've officially introduced this guy. His name is Sprinter.
It was an obvious name for him because on the morning he was born, late in the summer, Paul Bunyan found him sprinting around the pasture.
He's a hoot. He loves to run and jump and raise some Cain. I'm sad he's all cooped up this winter in the tent because he has no where to run and jump. I have a feeling he's making everyone in his stall a little crazy.
Sprinter is the product of an unplanned pregnancy, which can sometimes happen if Paul Bunyan (or house sitter) isn't watching too closely. For the longest time Paul Bunyan thought his dad was Lucas, who always seems to be the only male on the farm who wants to get jiggy with any of the females. If you know what I'm talking about.
But when Paul Bunyan got a call last week from ARI (Alpaca Registry Inc.) saying that there was no way in hell Lucas was Sprinter's father, he was perplexed. Who could his father be?? These were the choices:
1. Hamlet
2. Jumping Jack
3. Cronus, who passed away this fall.
You can read about his passing here, but if you don't feel like it just know he died a painful (although not long) death and he took a piece of me with him. I haven't been able to touch his blanket, which was shorn last April. We were kind of hoping it was Cronus because Cronus was the only offspring we had of Julia, who is one of the original alpacas Paul Bunyan brought onto the farm. She has since not been able to get pregnant. And we were sad that her lineage ended with the death of her son.
Well, ARI, with the help of our credit card number, was able to confirm that it was, in fact, Cronus who finagled his way into Lydia's stall to leave his mark on the world. Cronus was not loved or appreciated by all. He was a nerd. A geek. He was bullied and harassed and spit at and made fun of. We loved him. But all the other alpacas used to laugh and call him names.
And so now we rejoice in Sprinter's frolicking behavior. We rejoice when he spits at Tom Tom, who is one year older than he is, to get at the feed bucket. We rejoice when he slips into the big boy's pen and isn't intimidated or scared of them. We rejoice when he bucks and cavorts and doesn't give a shit what anyone thinks. We rejoice that he's big and beautiful and bold. It's too late to name him Cronus' Revenge, as he's already registered as Happy Hollow's Sprinter but as he stands to be our farm's nest stud, I think that's what I'm going to have to call him.
It was an obvious name for him because on the morning he was born, late in the summer, Paul Bunyan found him sprinting around the pasture.
He's a hoot. He loves to run and jump and raise some Cain. I'm sad he's all cooped up this winter in the tent because he has no where to run and jump. I have a feeling he's making everyone in his stall a little crazy.
Sprinter is the product of an unplanned pregnancy, which can sometimes happen if Paul Bunyan (or house sitter) isn't watching too closely. For the longest time Paul Bunyan thought his dad was Lucas, who always seems to be the only male on the farm who wants to get jiggy with any of the females. If you know what I'm talking about.
But when Paul Bunyan got a call last week from ARI (Alpaca Registry Inc.) saying that there was no way in hell Lucas was Sprinter's father, he was perplexed. Who could his father be?? These were the choices:
1. Hamlet
2. Jumping Jack
3. Cronus, who passed away this fall.
You can read about his passing here, but if you don't feel like it just know he died a painful (although not long) death and he took a piece of me with him. I haven't been able to touch his blanket, which was shorn last April. We were kind of hoping it was Cronus because Cronus was the only offspring we had of Julia, who is one of the original alpacas Paul Bunyan brought onto the farm. She has since not been able to get pregnant. And we were sad that her lineage ended with the death of her son.
Well, ARI, with the help of our credit card number, was able to confirm that it was, in fact, Cronus who finagled his way into Lydia's stall to leave his mark on the world. Cronus was not loved or appreciated by all. He was a nerd. A geek. He was bullied and harassed and spit at and made fun of. We loved him. But all the other alpacas used to laugh and call him names.
And so now we rejoice in Sprinter's frolicking behavior. We rejoice when he spits at Tom Tom, who is one year older than he is, to get at the feed bucket. We rejoice when he slips into the big boy's pen and isn't intimidated or scared of them. We rejoice when he bucks and cavorts and doesn't give a shit what anyone thinks. We rejoice that he's big and beautiful and bold. It's too late to name him Cronus' Revenge, as he's already registered as Happy Hollow's Sprinter but as he stands to be our farm's nest stud, I think that's what I'm going to have to call him.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Yea, Maybe
Paul Bunyan and I made a mistake. We made a fairly big mistake. We built our dream home next to a shooting range. It was a big mistake. We moved in when Claire was 8 months old. We moved out when she was 2.
This was Claire at 2.
This is Claire now. Well, not right now.
It was a beautiful house. Beautifully designed by HER handsome husband. Beautifully built in a beautiful neighborhood.
And then I said this,"I can't stay here."
And Paul Bunyan said this, "What the hell are you talking about?"
And then I said, "I can't read a book in a hammock without hearing a gun shot."
And Paul Bunyan said, "Why would you want to read a book in a hammock. You have a two year old?"
And I said, "Someday, I want to read a book in a hammock without hearing a gun shot."
And Paul Bunyan said, "You're about to have twins, you'll never read a book in a hammock. Ever."
And I said, "I want to die in the house we find. I don't want to die in this house with gun shots reverberating off of the walls."
And Paul Bunyan (after much pleading and convincing) decided to do this:
I loved this house.
Let me repeat: I loved this house. I will always associate this house with Claire's toddlerhood, new puppy Liebe, big snowfalls, the beginning of Paul's woodworking fetish, many a miscarriage and the conception of the twins. I loved the blissful newness of everything, especially our walk-in shower, and the curtains I sewed for Claire's nursery.
But it was a mistake. However, when we look back on the experience we walk away with this:
Our savior. The man we turn to when we need something done. He is Paul's man crush. But we won't go there. Here's my point. Are you ready? When I was stuck in traffic here in the house 6 months after the boys were born and Paul Bunyan comes home to tell me he is starting an alpaca farm, I pretty much said, "I'm staying out of this." I didn't want the weight of that mistake on my shoulders. I was still sore from the hefty error of judgment from the years before. I stayed out of it. But Paul Bunyan powered through. He scooped poop, he buried dead babies. He built and fixed fences, he built and filled the hay loft. He clipped toe nails, gave shots, and once a year sheared those suckers. He showed animals at Alpaca Shows only to be ushered out of the show ring, and practically laughed at. I know he felt defeated. I know he has felt doubt. I know he has wondered why he did it. I know he has felt regret. Well, this weekend. This weekend he felt something for the first time:
Pride. At 2nd place.
Maybe this whole alpaca thing hasn't been a mistake after all Paul Bunyan. I'm very proud of you.
This was Claire at 2.
This is Claire now. Well, not right now.
It was a beautiful house. Beautifully designed by HER handsome husband. Beautifully built in a beautiful neighborhood.
And then I said this,"I can't stay here."
And Paul Bunyan said this, "What the hell are you talking about?"
And then I said, "I can't read a book in a hammock without hearing a gun shot."
And Paul Bunyan said, "Why would you want to read a book in a hammock. You have a two year old?"
And I said, "Someday, I want to read a book in a hammock without hearing a gun shot."
And Paul Bunyan said, "You're about to have twins, you'll never read a book in a hammock. Ever."
And I said, "I want to die in the house we find. I don't want to die in this house with gun shots reverberating off of the walls."
And Paul Bunyan (after much pleading and convincing) decided to do this:
I loved this house.
Let me repeat: I loved this house. I will always associate this house with Claire's toddlerhood, new puppy Liebe, big snowfalls, the beginning of Paul's woodworking fetish, many a miscarriage and the conception of the twins. I loved the blissful newness of everything, especially our walk-in shower, and the curtains I sewed for Claire's nursery.
But it was a mistake. However, when we look back on the experience we walk away with this:
Our savior. The man we turn to when we need something done. He is Paul's man crush. But we won't go there. Here's my point. Are you ready? When I was stuck in traffic here in the house 6 months after the boys were born and Paul Bunyan comes home to tell me he is starting an alpaca farm, I pretty much said, "I'm staying out of this." I didn't want the weight of that mistake on my shoulders. I was still sore from the hefty error of judgment from the years before. I stayed out of it. But Paul Bunyan powered through. He scooped poop, he buried dead babies. He built and fixed fences, he built and filled the hay loft. He clipped toe nails, gave shots, and once a year sheared those suckers. He showed animals at Alpaca Shows only to be ushered out of the show ring, and practically laughed at. I know he felt defeated. I know he has felt doubt. I know he has wondered why he did it. I know he has felt regret. Well, this weekend. This weekend he felt something for the first time:
Pride. At 2nd place.
Maybe this whole alpaca thing hasn't been a mistake after all Paul Bunyan. I'm very proud of you.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Hard Homecoming
I love coming home from vacation. I love seeing the pumpkins growing their tentacles out onto the lawn. I love going on a zucchini hunt with my children in my garden of weeds. I love seeing the flowers in my beds stick out over the borders, trying their damndest to make the world brighter and better. And I was so looking forward to seeing Hunter frolic in the yard, rejoicing in our return. But it is a sad day to say that he is no where to be found. Our house sitter said she saw him the whole time we were away and that it was probably just since Sunday or Monday that he vanished. My guilty heart wishes we had come home just two days earlier; we could have possibly saved him from searching for excitement somewhere else. I have to hold out some hope; although it's hard. Hunter took that NOLS course for three weeks last summer and showed up skin and bones down at the bottom of our hill. So there is a possibility that he can survive and return and rub up against my legs once again...or keep me company while I weed my garden of weeds.
This whole 'fact of farm' living is hard on me. I'm just not good at the losing of things. We "lost" an alpaca two years ago. Paul Bunyan brought the sick boy up to the garage here at the house because it was a cold January morning and it was obvious he was in distress. And as life would have it, Paul Bunyan had to go to work and I held Titan in my arms, and as the vet ran to her truck to get pain meds I watched his life (a life cut too short) slip away. I tried to hold back tears, so as not to let the vet see my weaker side; but after we slipped his body into a garbage bag and loaded him into her truck for an autopsy, the taillights of her truck got lost in all my weepiness.
I pulled slowly out of our driveway on a Friday morning, two days before we left for Minnesota. I was taking the spawn to camp and I saw Cronus lying in the pasture. It was raining a steady rain. Cronus lying in the pasture was not normal. I called Paul Bunyan as soon as I got cell coverage, but he slept through the ringing, as he had just climbed into bed five hours earlier. My message said something about how I think he looks bad, like he's dying. When I returned home after a few errands, Paul Bunyan said that when he went down there to feed them, Cronus popped up off the ground and seemed to be doing better. He did, however, call the vet to chat with her about his status. Paul Bunyan thought that maybe he had gotten beat up by the other boys in the pen, but I was wary of this because I've always seen Cronus fight back against their bullying. But, of course, PB had to go to work and gave me instructions to go check on him when I got back from retrieving the spawn at their respective camps.
When I got down there Cronus had his head under the hay feeder and was breathing laboriously. And nothing I did to get him to stand was working. I ran back up to the house to call PB, who said to just keep an eye on him and to call the vet if I can't get him up. Up and down, up and down I went. And Cronus was not doing any better. Annie, the vet, was at a dairy farm 45 minutes away and I told her we'll wait for her to arrive. The spawn, gratefully, were playing really well together, which is usually the case unless they haven't slept long enough between days. I tell them, between trips
bleep bleep bleep. Breaking News!! Breaking News!! I interrupt this program to bring you this most important announcement: HUNTER HAS JUST RETURNED TO THE HOMESTEAD...and he is acting like he never left for his 6 day vacation all rubbing and meowing and stuff. Oh, Happy Day!! And now back to your previously scheduled program.
So I'm telling the spawn, "please stay up here and be nice to each other. I have to go wait for the vet and Cronus might be dying, so please don't come down because I don't want you to have to see that."
"Okay, Mom. We'll be good."
I'm not back down at the barn for ten minutes when I see the small Indians moving slowly down the hill on the path toward the upper pasture and the gate that enters it. The Indian Princess who is leading the parade is wearing her new hand-me-down high heel shoes and she is carrying a bag full of sweatshirts and rain jackets and snacks, as if the Little Indians were going to set up camp and watch the life and fire leave one of our animal's eyes. They all wanted to "see" him and so I let them take a look but I shooed them back up to the house just as Annie pulled into the driveway. They left without howling their war cries.
Annie looked at Cronus' gums and eyes and took his temperature and listened to his heart. All did not look well. She went to the truck to get some clippers to cut a spot on his leg hair in order to give him some pain meds. As soon as the needle went into his leg, the color of his blood alarmed her. She let me know that things did not look good. I was fairly certain that Paul Bunyan would not have had her try too many other things to keep him alive. This is very upsetting to me; although I know that the cost of keeping an animal like Cronus alive far surpasses his monetary worth to us. I, however, believe that every animal deserves the right to life...especially if they are under our care. So it was a struggle for me to say the words, "I think we better put him down," because it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair, either, to see him struggle in pain. I didn't want him to go through the night barely able to breath.
Annie tried to put him to sleep with a 'normal' dosage (one she would give a heifer). Cronus baffled us both as he stood up (!) after she injected him with the Fatal Plus. She couldn't understand why that would have made him want to get up; whereas it should have made him want to go to sleep. And so it went, that I felt this horrible guilt for deciding for this animal that it should die, when all it really wanted to do was get up and live. So, Annie and I got him back down and she gave him a little more and so it ended...his pain. But my guilt, it ran wild and bucked and snorted and threw its crazy head about.
She wanted to cut him open in order to learn for herself what may have caused his death. So I went to get the tractor. We carried him to the bucket and placed him in it. I told her that I didn't think I could watch, and she completely understood, promising me she'd call with whatever she found. We decided we would leave him in the bucket until Paul Bunyan could bury him...and she would lock the other boys out of that section of the pasture.
It turns out that Cronus had something she called "Colic" and it appeared that his gut got twisted. He was always a very nervous and frantic animal and his demise could have been brought on by stress. So that night I spent hours trying to figure out if there was something we could have done. I'm still not sure if I discovered an easy cure for such a thing, or whether I tried to convince myself that there wasn't anything we could have done (which is what I think I did to make myself feel better). I'm sure there was something...if we had seen signs earlier, but we didn't.
I decided to turn the computer off and turn down the covers, but as I was laying there trying to fall asleep I heard the coyotes yowling in the near distance. They were on the next ridge. My mind started to unravel like a ball of thread- would they smell Cronus' open body? would they duck under the fence to steal the new babes born this summer? would they make my nightmare night a bloody murder morning? I couldn't bear it.
I pulled on my Carharts and slipped on a head lamp and started down the road, and not the path, to bring Cronus' body up to the house. I remember the scream of the rushing water of Johnny Brook; it had rained most of the day. I remember my breath as mist in the light of my headlamp; it was a cold July evening. And as I approached the tractor, I heard the shift of the boys in their pen. The tractor's start disrupted the silence and a field mouse scattered up the hydraulic arm of the tractor towards me. When he got close enough, I flicked him off as I would a booger off my thumb. And as I lifted the bucket high enough into the air, in order to ensure that Cronus wouldn't get dumped out on my way back up the road, I saw his white ear pop up over the edge. I took a deep breath and ran the tractor slowly up the hill...having to scoop up his parts would be more tragic to me than the day had already been. I pulled the tractor up to our wood landing and lifted the bucket as high as I could. Only the birds would have been able to get him. I turned the lights off and shut down the engine and said goodnight.
I would hear Paul Bunyan later that night burrying him at 2 a.m. when he returned home from work.
Life on a farm, any farm, comes and goes. I'll get used to it. The letting go will get easier. I do hope, however, that next time Paul Bunyan will be around to shut the eyes of the animals that have hopefully lived all their days out...full lives...here on our homestead. And have never known a happier place.
This whole 'fact of farm' living is hard on me. I'm just not good at the losing of things. We "lost" an alpaca two years ago. Paul Bunyan brought the sick boy up to the garage here at the house because it was a cold January morning and it was obvious he was in distress. And as life would have it, Paul Bunyan had to go to work and I held Titan in my arms, and as the vet ran to her truck to get pain meds I watched his life (a life cut too short) slip away. I tried to hold back tears, so as not to let the vet see my weaker side; but after we slipped his body into a garbage bag and loaded him into her truck for an autopsy, the taillights of her truck got lost in all my weepiness.
I pulled slowly out of our driveway on a Friday morning, two days before we left for Minnesota. I was taking the spawn to camp and I saw Cronus lying in the pasture. It was raining a steady rain. Cronus lying in the pasture was not normal. I called Paul Bunyan as soon as I got cell coverage, but he slept through the ringing, as he had just climbed into bed five hours earlier. My message said something about how I think he looks bad, like he's dying. When I returned home after a few errands, Paul Bunyan said that when he went down there to feed them, Cronus popped up off the ground and seemed to be doing better. He did, however, call the vet to chat with her about his status. Paul Bunyan thought that maybe he had gotten beat up by the other boys in the pen, but I was wary of this because I've always seen Cronus fight back against their bullying. But, of course, PB had to go to work and gave me instructions to go check on him when I got back from retrieving the spawn at their respective camps.
When I got down there Cronus had his head under the hay feeder and was breathing laboriously. And nothing I did to get him to stand was working. I ran back up to the house to call PB, who said to just keep an eye on him and to call the vet if I can't get him up. Up and down, up and down I went. And Cronus was not doing any better. Annie, the vet, was at a dairy farm 45 minutes away and I told her we'll wait for her to arrive. The spawn, gratefully, were playing really well together, which is usually the case unless they haven't slept long enough between days. I tell them, between trips
bleep bleep bleep. Breaking News!! Breaking News!! I interrupt this program to bring you this most important announcement: HUNTER HAS JUST RETURNED TO THE HOMESTEAD...and he is acting like he never left for his 6 day vacation all rubbing and meowing and stuff. Oh, Happy Day!! And now back to your previously scheduled program.
So I'm telling the spawn, "please stay up here and be nice to each other. I have to go wait for the vet and Cronus might be dying, so please don't come down because I don't want you to have to see that."
"Okay, Mom. We'll be good."
I'm not back down at the barn for ten minutes when I see the small Indians moving slowly down the hill on the path toward the upper pasture and the gate that enters it. The Indian Princess who is leading the parade is wearing her new hand-me-down high heel shoes and she is carrying a bag full of sweatshirts and rain jackets and snacks, as if the Little Indians were going to set up camp and watch the life and fire leave one of our animal's eyes. They all wanted to "see" him and so I let them take a look but I shooed them back up to the house just as Annie pulled into the driveway. They left without howling their war cries.
Annie looked at Cronus' gums and eyes and took his temperature and listened to his heart. All did not look well. She went to the truck to get some clippers to cut a spot on his leg hair in order to give him some pain meds. As soon as the needle went into his leg, the color of his blood alarmed her. She let me know that things did not look good. I was fairly certain that Paul Bunyan would not have had her try too many other things to keep him alive. This is very upsetting to me; although I know that the cost of keeping an animal like Cronus alive far surpasses his monetary worth to us. I, however, believe that every animal deserves the right to life...especially if they are under our care. So it was a struggle for me to say the words, "I think we better put him down," because it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair, either, to see him struggle in pain. I didn't want him to go through the night barely able to breath.
Annie tried to put him to sleep with a 'normal' dosage (one she would give a heifer). Cronus baffled us both as he stood up (!) after she injected him with the Fatal Plus. She couldn't understand why that would have made him want to get up; whereas it should have made him want to go to sleep. And so it went, that I felt this horrible guilt for deciding for this animal that it should die, when all it really wanted to do was get up and live. So, Annie and I got him back down and she gave him a little more and so it ended...his pain. But my guilt, it ran wild and bucked and snorted and threw its crazy head about.
She wanted to cut him open in order to learn for herself what may have caused his death. So I went to get the tractor. We carried him to the bucket and placed him in it. I told her that I didn't think I could watch, and she completely understood, promising me she'd call with whatever she found. We decided we would leave him in the bucket until Paul Bunyan could bury him...and she would lock the other boys out of that section of the pasture.
It turns out that Cronus had something she called "Colic" and it appeared that his gut got twisted. He was always a very nervous and frantic animal and his demise could have been brought on by stress. So that night I spent hours trying to figure out if there was something we could have done. I'm still not sure if I discovered an easy cure for such a thing, or whether I tried to convince myself that there wasn't anything we could have done (which is what I think I did to make myself feel better). I'm sure there was something...if we had seen signs earlier, but we didn't.
I decided to turn the computer off and turn down the covers, but as I was laying there trying to fall asleep I heard the coyotes yowling in the near distance. They were on the next ridge. My mind started to unravel like a ball of thread- would they smell Cronus' open body? would they duck under the fence to steal the new babes born this summer? would they make my nightmare night a bloody murder morning? I couldn't bear it.
I pulled on my Carharts and slipped on a head lamp and started down the road, and not the path, to bring Cronus' body up to the house. I remember the scream of the rushing water of Johnny Brook; it had rained most of the day. I remember my breath as mist in the light of my headlamp; it was a cold July evening. And as I approached the tractor, I heard the shift of the boys in their pen. The tractor's start disrupted the silence and a field mouse scattered up the hydraulic arm of the tractor towards me. When he got close enough, I flicked him off as I would a booger off my thumb. And as I lifted the bucket high enough into the air, in order to ensure that Cronus wouldn't get dumped out on my way back up the road, I saw his white ear pop up over the edge. I took a deep breath and ran the tractor slowly up the hill...having to scoop up his parts would be more tragic to me than the day had already been. I pulled the tractor up to our wood landing and lifted the bucket as high as I could. Only the birds would have been able to get him. I turned the lights off and shut down the engine and said goodnight.
I would hear Paul Bunyan later that night burrying him at 2 a.m. when he returned home from work.
Life on a farm, any farm, comes and goes. I'll get used to it. The letting go will get easier. I do hope, however, that next time Paul Bunyan will be around to shut the eyes of the animals that have hopefully lived all their days out...full lives...here on our homestead. And have never known a happier place.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Sweet Surprise...
346 days tucked up inside.
Born on a bright blue- blue bird kinda day.
Only odd-cadenced birds,
Ones my ears had never heard before,
Never having had the chance to listen,
woke me yesterday morning.
To this, also.
This brown bundle of newness,
Who was separated from her mother,
After the confusion of birth
Left her for naught in the boy's pen,
But to bear witness to the reunion fraught with the sweet smells of knowingness!
And the immediate recognition of where to find the source of life.
And how to seek the comfort,
From the mother you had grown your spirit in.
The solace of a birth, be it human or not,
is undeniable. As is the desire
to smile brilliantly at the prospect of a life
already born a star.
Born on a bright blue- blue bird kinda day.
Only odd-cadenced birds,
Ones my ears had never heard before,
Never having had the chance to listen,
woke me yesterday morning.
To this, also.
This brown bundle of newness,
Who was separated from her mother,
After the confusion of birth
Left her for naught in the boy's pen,
But to bear witness to the reunion fraught with the sweet smells of knowingness!
And the immediate recognition of where to find the source of life.
And how to seek the comfort,
From the mother you had grown your spirit in.
The solace of a birth, be it human or not,
is undeniable. As is the desire
to smile brilliantly at the prospect of a life
already born a star.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
It's A....It's A...It's A Girl!!
This is my mother. Her name is Harriet. Everyone who meets her loves her. I don't know anyone who doesn't. She has taught me how to collect fireflies, how to do my laundry, how to balance a check book, how to sew, how to knit, how to grow a garden, how not to cook (sorry, we had a lot of microwaved dinners), how to make a bed, how to do geometry (she's a math teacher), how to love animals, how to be tough, how to finish what I started, how to believe in myself, and most importantly (and I what I want most for my kids...) how to be kind.
My mom was just visiting. I love being with my mom. It always makes me feel safe, even when I'm already safe. I feel like she can fix anything. I guess I want that for my kids too, to feel like I can fix anything.
I'm glad my mom was here this weekend. She was able to help Paul Bunyan and me. We had some shit to deliver. You know, alpaca shit. I didn't want to do that with the spawn around, because shit and the spawn don't mix. Words out that our alpaca shit is worth something. We've been giving it away to anyone who will take it. But now that it's actually a commodity worth something, we're delivering it to gardeners in town who are willing to pay us to shovel it. We had just brought a truckload to neighbors in town and had returned to the farm for a second load. It was just starting to rain, dark clouds on the horizon. Paul Bunyan couldn't get the truck up the tractor road to the shit pile because of the wet ground. I let Liebe out of the truck to get some exercise. We were going to go open the upper gates so Paul Bunyan could drive through the upper pastures to the shit pile. The alpacas are a bit nervous with Liebe around, but none more nervous than Chloe. Chloe (as mentioned in my shearing post, was due (like) yesterday) she came after Liebe like an ultimate fighter on speed. She pinned her down. Paul Bunyan was yelling, "get her outta here!!" (talking about Liebe). That's when we noticed that Chloe, who is trying to kill our dog, has two legs and a head sticking out of her vagina. "Holy Shit," I thought, "she's havin' a baby!" Now I was worried about Chloe, and not so much Liebe, although I love her very much. Very much. I sprinted toward the gate that leads up to our house and luckily Liebe was able to free herself from Chloe's hoofs to follow me to the path. I ran up the hill to our house and made sure that Liebe was safe inside. I panted to my mother that Chloe was having her baby and to make sure the dogs stayed inside. She simply replied, "Okay, take your time. We've got everything covered up here." I ran back down and at this point, it was starting to rain pretty hard. PB had Chloe in the tent and was watching the baby being birthed, but before I could turn the corner to look, he asked if I could run back up to the house to grab some clean towels. Holy Shit...I needed to sprint back up the hill...but good thing, I forgot to grab my camera anyway. As I was returning through the pasture with clean white towels and camera tucked underneath, a bolt of lightening and an earth shattering thunder, our first of the season, made me duck for cover. I rounded the corner, Paul Bunyan grabbed a towel, and scooped up this bundle of joy to clean her off.
My dear momma (first time momma!) you've done a great job!!
Here Paul Bunyan is pulling the amniotic sac off of "Lightning".
Prima, the next momma due to have a baby, gets a sniff of the new herd member.
Brand New Momma Chloe gets to sniff her new baby girl!
Poor little Lightning is cold and confused, and still has goop on her nose.
We try to warm her with a "jacket".
Oh, my god, am I tired.
But, we gotta give standin' up a try.
Let me just take a little rest here.
Before I try again. Here we go. Here we go.
Okay, I think I've got it.
Within an hour, Lightning was up and trying to nurse. She was, albeit, a little cold, but let's hope Momma can keep her warm.
Whoa, but first we gotta get rid of this shit. Here comes the placenta. If you are at all squeamish, please don't look at the following pictures (I know you all want to keep looking!)
Paul Bunyan collects the placenta.
Okay, don't look. Really, don't look....
I told you not to.
I had c-sections for all my children. I never had to see any of my insides, or feel it for that matter. This is the closest I've been to a placenta. I'm glad it's not mine.
Good job Momma bird. You're one tough chick. Now, all I ask is that you teach Lightning to be kind...and not to spit on anyone. Because really, that's all that matters in life. Right Mom??
My mom was just visiting. I love being with my mom. It always makes me feel safe, even when I'm already safe. I feel like she can fix anything. I guess I want that for my kids too, to feel like I can fix anything.
I'm glad my mom was here this weekend. She was able to help Paul Bunyan and me. We had some shit to deliver. You know, alpaca shit. I didn't want to do that with the spawn around, because shit and the spawn don't mix. Words out that our alpaca shit is worth something. We've been giving it away to anyone who will take it. But now that it's actually a commodity worth something, we're delivering it to gardeners in town who are willing to pay us to shovel it. We had just brought a truckload to neighbors in town and had returned to the farm for a second load. It was just starting to rain, dark clouds on the horizon. Paul Bunyan couldn't get the truck up the tractor road to the shit pile because of the wet ground. I let Liebe out of the truck to get some exercise. We were going to go open the upper gates so Paul Bunyan could drive through the upper pastures to the shit pile. The alpacas are a bit nervous with Liebe around, but none more nervous than Chloe. Chloe (as mentioned in my shearing post, was due (like) yesterday) she came after Liebe like an ultimate fighter on speed. She pinned her down. Paul Bunyan was yelling, "get her outta here!!" (talking about Liebe). That's when we noticed that Chloe, who is trying to kill our dog, has two legs and a head sticking out of her vagina. "Holy Shit," I thought, "she's havin' a baby!" Now I was worried about Chloe, and not so much Liebe, although I love her very much. Very much. I sprinted toward the gate that leads up to our house and luckily Liebe was able to free herself from Chloe's hoofs to follow me to the path. I ran up the hill to our house and made sure that Liebe was safe inside. I panted to my mother that Chloe was having her baby and to make sure the dogs stayed inside. She simply replied, "Okay, take your time. We've got everything covered up here." I ran back down and at this point, it was starting to rain pretty hard. PB had Chloe in the tent and was watching the baby being birthed, but before I could turn the corner to look, he asked if I could run back up to the house to grab some clean towels. Holy Shit...I needed to sprint back up the hill...but good thing, I forgot to grab my camera anyway. As I was returning through the pasture with clean white towels and camera tucked underneath, a bolt of lightening and an earth shattering thunder, our first of the season, made me duck for cover. I rounded the corner, Paul Bunyan grabbed a towel, and scooped up this bundle of joy to clean her off.
My dear momma (first time momma!) you've done a great job!!
Here Paul Bunyan is pulling the amniotic sac off of "Lightning".
Prima, the next momma due to have a baby, gets a sniff of the new herd member.
Brand New Momma Chloe gets to sniff her new baby girl!
Poor little Lightning is cold and confused, and still has goop on her nose.
We try to warm her with a "jacket".
Oh, my god, am I tired.
But, we gotta give standin' up a try.
Let me just take a little rest here.
Before I try again. Here we go. Here we go.
Okay, I think I've got it.
Within an hour, Lightning was up and trying to nurse. She was, albeit, a little cold, but let's hope Momma can keep her warm.
Whoa, but first we gotta get rid of this shit. Here comes the placenta. If you are at all squeamish, please don't look at the following pictures (I know you all want to keep looking!)
Paul Bunyan collects the placenta.
Okay, don't look. Really, don't look....
I told you not to.
I had c-sections for all my children. I never had to see any of my insides, or feel it for that matter. This is the closest I've been to a placenta. I'm glad it's not mine.
Good job Momma bird. You're one tough chick. Now, all I ask is that you teach Lightning to be kind...and not to spit on anyone. Because really, that's all that matters in life. Right Mom??
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