The Uninvited Guest

     As we headed out to the hen house last Sunday I noticed “something” casing the perimeter of the fenced-in chicken run. It was gray and about the size of a small cat. We had just come from the barn where our two gray barn cats snoozed in a sunspot in one of the stalls, so I knew it couldn’t be one of them. “Pete, what is that?” I grabbed his coat sleeve as we slowed our pace and crept closer. Pink protruding nose, pink toes, hairy body, and a long tail…it was an opossum. In eleven years on our farm, we have never seen one.
     Every horse owner fears the presence of opossums for one reason and one reason only…EPM. Equine Protozoal Myeloencephalitis. It is a neurologic disease in which a parasite invades the central nervous system of the horse. So what does this have to do with funny faced little opossums? Opossums carry the eggs of those parasites in their feces. If a horse eats or drinks from an area where these have been dropped, they get sick. Lesions develop on their brains and spinal cords and they become atrophied and uncoordinated in their hindquarters, leaning and falling down. They lose the ability to know where their feet are. Many have to be put down. If caught early enough, costly drug treatment helps some horses, but not all. It is a frightening and debilitating disease.
     So…now you understand my reaction to the opossum on our property. We have five horses. That day, Pete chased after it in an attempt to scare it off. A few hours later from the comfort of our sunroom, I saw it inside our fenced-in back yard, casing the fenceline from the inside. This is our dog yard and a little too close for comfort. After finding nothing to eat, the opossum left the yard and we lost sight of it. Later that day, Pete saw it yet again by the chickens, scaling their fence like a rock climber. The chickens just stood there carrying on with their rooting and scratching, seeming oblivious to the drooling predator, with the exception of Stanley. A fierce protector of his hens, our red rooster strutted a circle around his girls, puffed up and ready for battle.
     I strive to show compassion to all beings, so eliminating Mr. Opossum was out of the question for me or for any hit man-for-hire. Instead, I simply asked the opossum to kindly leave, that there was no food here for him, and that if he did not leave, he would end up in a live trap and curried to another county via our truck. We haven’t seen him since. No tracks in the snow, no droppings, no pink snout, no opossum. It was that simple. Horses, chickens, and humans can all relax. All is well on the farm.

An opossum I found online

The Gift

We all love to get gifts. Pretty packages with silver ribbons or doo-jiggy adorned bags bring out the giddy child in all of us. Some gifts, however, are not wrapped in silver. Many seemingly insignificant gifts go unrecognized. Some, if we pay attention, soak into our hearts and can bring out a dose of gratitude that we can share with the world. As I get to know our four hens and rooster, I continue to be astounded at the teachers they are. Who knew?? On Thanksgiving afternoon, Pete and I camped out in the hen house rigging up a heat lamp knowing that the temperature was to drop in the low teens that night. Dressed in our carharts and big boots, the two of us took up most of the room in the building. All five chickens, who love to be next to us, scurried into the henhouse and milled around among our legs. Clover, one of the brown and white Speckled Sussex hens immediately settled herself into the nest box. We watched as she rooted around making quiet warbly sounds that we had never heard before. Meanwhile Stanley, who has grown into an enormous red rooster, jumped up and stood outside the nest box, watching over Clover as she continued to scrape away bedding, lie down, and stand up repeatedly. Clover didn’t seem to even notice or mind our presence. Twenty minutes of rooting and scraping, and suddenly Clover let out a huge squawk. Then she settled down into the bedding, stood up, and out plopped a perfect cream colored egg. Stanley’s job as protector was done, so he hopped down and began to eat. Soon Clover joined in, and all of the chickens became wildly excited, like they were proud to gift us with Clover’s egg. I’ve noticed that every time there is an egg waiting for us in the nest box, the chickens greet us with exceptional enthusiasm. It may seem like no big deal to see a chicken lay an egg, but for us it felt special and made our hearts open just a little more that day. The chickens’ collective joy over the event was an even greater gift. So simple. So perfect.

Clover, 6 months

The Spirit of a Farm

     “A farm has its own spirituality that gives immense meaning and pleasure. It can’t be measured in acres or the quantity of animals and crops. A farm is a spiritual thing that feeds your soul, as its spirituality pours out of every outbuilding and bale of hay. Nothing is more tangible and sensuous than a farm, and yet it is also full of spirit.”                          -Thomas Moore


     Feeling blue on a chilly, drizzly November day, I decided I needed a good dose of “farm” to lift me up. Bundling up in my winter boots, hat, and Lands End parka, my blues turned to a vibrant yellow just as soon as my boot touched the sleeping grass. Facing the ground to avoid the wind, I headed over to the chicken coop. Lifting my chin upon reaching the coop brought an immediate smile to my face, and warmth to my soul. Juliette and Misha flew up to the roost so they could be at my eye level for a proper greeting. The others welcomed me from the ground, hustling and bustling, wondering what goodies I may have brought from the kitchen. Happy and chattering, they invited me into their enclosure. To them, it’s just weather. They carried on with their scratching, pecking, and scurrying, content to be alive and cared for. As I sat with my feathered friends climbing onto my legs, I felt more and more comfort seeping deep into my soul. Clouds and drizzle, wind and cold no longer mattered. The wise and nurturing soul of our farm took hold of me and wrapped me up in a favorite worn quilt. As I headed back to the house, joy spilled out from my pores and the November blues had disappeared.


Beautiful Juliette



Just a Frog

     Every year in August and September we are delighted to see a number of tiny lime green tree frogs on the outside of our sunroom windows as the sun sets. They are so smart…they hang around those windows because we have lights on inside, which attract tiny bugs. Pete and I are easily amused. We spend time watching these frogs. They wait, still as statues with only their little throats vibrating in and out, until suddenly…snap! Their skinny little tongues dart out of their mouths and snap up any loitering gnats.
     During tree frog season we are careful not to squish any of them in the window or trap them between the window and the screen overnight. Recently one evening before going to bed, I cranked the living room window shut and didn’t give it a thought because it was October and we thought the frogs were gone. The next morning I went to open the same window. As I looked down at the base of the window, I was horrified. I slowly turned the crank and there he was. A bright green tree frog who now had a left hind leg that had turned a shriveled gray and hung there like a limp string. I had inadvertently closed the window on his little leg! His eyes were open and his little throat was still going. “I’m so sorry!” Sadness hung over me like a fragrance as I realized I had harmed this tiny being. He must have struggled all night to try to free his leg.
     I stood by the window for a long time and sorrowfully watched my lame little friend. I thought maybe he’d just fall off the window ledge. He didn’t. Instead, he proceeded to hop up the entire length of window with his string leg dragging behind him as if this were no big thing. I was astonished. I know some people would say to me, “Oh, Karen, it’s just a frog. It doesn’t really matter in the big scheme of things.” Well, it matters to that frog. I know I didn’t mean to harm him, but I felt terrible that I caused him to suffer.
     We humans sometimes blow our own little troubles out of proportion, allowing our problems to stop us from living our purpose. We lose our passion for the things we love. This tiny frog had a huge difficulty and he just dragged it behind him as if it were all going to be okay. I don’t know what happened to him or if he made it, but he taught me something.
     So I ask you this…are your troubles stopping you from being in your life? Are you continuing on up the window despite your difficulties? I know that the next time something is bothering me, I will think of my tiny lime green friend, his perseverance, his courage, and his will to continue on up the window on three legs, even though he was “just a frog.”

A summer tree frog

Acceptance

     Repeatedly the I-Ching tells me that modesty, gentleness, and acceptance are the some of the keys to staying in balance. Modesty I understand. I admit that gentleness is taking me a bit longer, particularly in reference to not being hard on myself. I am getting there. Acceptance…hmmm…this is a tough one. Being IN each moment; staying present with what is and not trying to aggressively change things; seeing the beauty and recognizing the lesson provided in every single moment…without resistance. Seriously, this is hard.
     Recently my days have been filled with fatigue and body aches. As usual, our animals, the wise sages that they are, gently remind me about true acceptance. These four leggeds and winged ones keep me moving, present, and sane. So I haul my tired self out to the barn several times each day and dole out carefully decided proportions of hay to each of our girls. In doing so, I notice Willow, our 28 year-old chestnut beauty, hobble over to her hay pile with sheer delight. She reminds me of a child tasting ice cream for the first time. Her eyes are lit up and her whole being is smiling, even though she is completely lame with arthritis in one hind leg, has Cushing’s Disease, and cataracts. Willow does not let these serious issues become larger than her love for her hay, fondness of her friends, or joy in her life. As she lowers her head and begins to sample the delicacy before her, she closes her eyes and truly tastes each bite. She has immersed herself in the moment of delight in her food. I crouch down. I watch. I listen to the melody of all the horses chewing. My heart swells and I become lost inside this moment, forgetting my own aches. Willow is a constant reminder to me that my own issues in my body do not have to be so loud all the time. The simple joys are always there and I can recognize and appreciate them more easily when I am in a state of acceptance. After all, joy is what it’s all about, isn’t it?

The Stella/Stanley Update

Okay, I am finally admitting it.  Stella's a fella!  Four mornings in a row now, exactly as the sun was peeking through the bluffs to the east of our farm, a funny sound squeaked it's way through the slightly open window of the henhouse.  It was not the comforting warbly drone of a hen.  No, indeed.  It was a half-hearted cock-a-doodle-doo of a maturing rooster.  Actually it was more of a cock-a-doodle...without the doo.  I'm sure that the "doo" is soon to emerge as he learns all about this new thing called a voice.  He is maturing quite beautifully and is suddenly twice the size of all the hens.  This new man in our lives is now called STANLEY.

And did you know they have vending machines that sell bugs and worms???  We have a bait shop in town where we occasionally stop to get such delicacies for our chickens (did I mention that our chickens have it made?).  Today we noticed that outside the store there is a vending machine.  The bottom row contains the usual mountain dew, pepsi, and bottled water.  The top three rows have containers of red worms and slugs!  Kind of a weird concept, but good to know, just in case Stanley and associates run out.

STANLEY at 4 months

Stanley Up Close and Personal

An Unexpected Friendship

     New friends are given to us in just the right timing. After grieving the loss of our two beagles in a two week period, we found a new friend in Lola. We adopted Lola, a three year-old beagle terrier mix, from a rescue in Madison. We could only guess what she had to endure in her former “home.” Lola would cower at just about everything…quick movements by us, noises, even our back yard created fear in this 25 pound sweetie. With consistent love and acceptance on our part, Lola came around with most things within months. We hoped to get a second dog before too long so she could have a friend.
     I took Lola to basic obedience classes at our local vet clinic. She did well with basic commands as long as she was by my side. Other dogs, however, terrified her, especially large ones. She would squish herself down into the floor to become invisible, and occasionally growl at them with her hair raised. We thought we’d never be able to get a second dog to keep her company because every dog she met scared her so much. We decided to let the idea go, and trust that if a dog showed up in our lives, we would consider it.
     An entire year went by when my friend, Lori asked us if we could dog-sit her yellow lab for a week. At first we thought, “Yikes…a lab?” We were not sure Lola could handle this, so we agreed to have her bring the dog over for a “meet and greet” and see what happened. Lori showed up with her 12 year old, 67 pound dog named “Chamois.” With both dogs on leashes out in the yard, Lola actually wagged her tail when she saw Chamois coming! I couldn’t believe it! She sniffed Chamois all over and not one hair stood up. No growling. No cowering. Chamois, a true lady, expressed no interest in Lola, which was perfect for her. We decided it was a go! The moment Chamois entered our house, it felt like she was OUR dog. She fit right in and made herself comfortable. Lola was fine! A few days later Lori and I discussed the possibility of Chamois staying with us for the rest of her life. Although very sad to part with her, Lori agreed because she didn’t feel she was home enough to meet Chamois’ needs. Chamois could live out her last few years peacefully on our farm. We were thrilled.
     Chamois has been with us for five months now. She plays with tennis balls and Lola runs along side her. When it is time for dinner, Lola goes and gets Chamois before she comes into the kitchen. Lola takes comfort in Chamois during a storm, and she even licks her face. Chamois has taught Lola that she doesn’t have to bark in the back yard when we are out in the barn, and that she can stay outside for hours enjoying the sunshine even if we are not out there too. Lola’s confidence has skyrocketed and she is much less afraid now when she meets a new dog…even a large one. Everyone deserves a best friend, and Lola found hers in an aging yellow lab.




Lola and Chamois, Sept. 2010