Sunday, February 10, 2013
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Dogs and Love, and Cats Too
I love dogs. Cats, not so much but I do think that people should never have to make the choice of losing their pet, or have to limit their care or food in times of economic distress. I am asking that you take a moment to click on the link below and simply vote for this project. When you do, The Pet Project gets one step closer to getting funding from the Pepsico Company. It is such a simple way to do something for animals. Please scroll down to read my little story about Chutney, the real owner of Candybar Farm.
Candace and I are Chutneys people. We are her pack, along with her chickens. She loves the little Bantam roosters and hens and she lords over them like a concerned parent. When she goes out in the backyard, she will make a trip down to their coop to visit. She will sniff and check everything out, but the best part is that she talks to them. She will whine and beep and cry, and they listen, and I am sure they say something back to her, because she will bounce around like small dogs do in that play mode, with wild eyes, ears cocked back and a big smile on her face. At some magical signal, she will race back up the hill and on to the deck. It is a sweet thing to watch. It always makes me laugh.
The interesting thing is, Chutney is a hunter. She is a Fiest, and her focus is seeking and destroying any and all varmints.She has zero tolerance for other dogs. Actually, she doesn't like any animal. We have to keep her from other dogs because she will attack and it has happened before. I ave no idea why she is like this, but she came to us this way.
About ten - eleven years ago, Candace saw a TV ad for the local animal shelter. They showed several pictures of dogs and cats, and this one dog caught her eye. She wanted to go down to "just look" at the dog. We weren't in a position to have a dog, had not discussed getting a dog any time soon, so I went along.
Well, we got there and the dog on the TV was quite large and not at all what Candace had hoped for. As we walked along the rows of cages, all the dogs were barking and pawing for attention... except for this one dog. She was a tiny little thing with coloring like a dingo. She had big german shepherd shaped ears, but didn't look to be even 20 pounds. She was sitting in the back corner of the cage looking like a picture on an Egyptian carving. She was quietly watching everything with her big dark eyes. A worker walked by just then and Candace asked to see her. In moments we were outside with this little dog on a leash and when she was put down on the pavement, she hopped around like a bunny, and yodeled, tail sticking straight up in the air. She was darling, and Candace looked at me with those eyes... This little dog was going to have a new home.
One thing led to another, and we decided that it wouldn't do to have just one dog. She should have a playmate. (sigh) So back we went to look for a suitable companion for this little dog. In the cage right next door was Chutney. She was not yet a year old, or so they guessed. She was cute and had very smart eyes. We took her out of the cage and out to meet the other dog. They seemed OK together, so after negotiations and planning, we signed the papers to adopt them both. The one we brought home that day was Kenya, and Chutney wouldn't come home for several days. She needed to be spayed.
As we waited for Chutney to come home, we went to dinner one evening with a group of friends, and naturally we talked excitedly about the little dogs we were adopting. We hadn't chosen names and someone had the idea to go around the table, and each person would call out a name. We started with the letter "A". A wonderful friend named Torii had the letter "C", and in the next round, she had "K", and that is how Chutney and Kenya were named. It was perfect!
Kenya passed a couple of years ago, and that is another story in itself, but we gave her everything we could to make her happy and comfortable. She had a rough beginning up to the point where we adopted her. She had buckshot or BB's under her skin from being shot at. She had many ailments, but was the sweetest most angelic little dog. It was hard to say goodbye, but isn't it always a terrible day when you lose a pet, regardless of the reason? This is why I ask you to support The Pet Project. It doesn't cost you a thing but your vote means everything!
So Chutney came home a few days later, and while they got along most of the time, every now and then they would brawl. It was scary and ugly and what we think may have been the issue was that Kenya was learning disabled. She did not understand life as a dog. She didn't understand that her postures meant aggression and she would challenge Chutney without realizing it. Bless her heart, she was a few sandwiches shy of a good picnic. It took months just to teach her to sit... For all her problems, she was a sweet and special baby, and we treated her that way. When she passed away, Chutney wanted nothing to do with any other animals, so she is very attached to Candace and I. I cant imagine having to give her up. Can you imagine having to give up a beloved pet because you had money problems? I don't never want to find out, and that brings me back around to The Pet Project. Vote for it so that pets and their people can get help to stay together if they need it. You never know when you may need help in some way, and if it ever happens, the last thing you want to have to do is make hard choices with your dog or cat.
So it is mid day and I will get dressed and go out into the world. Not because I am burning to go out in the cold, but because Chutney needs playtime. We will hang out, and she will explore. She will say hello to her chickens and warn predators to stay away. I will walk with her, and she will walk with me. It is all about love, the love you can only have with a dog... or a cat... that you have vowed to care for its entire life. I remind myself each day that all she gets, all she experiences is through Candace and me, and I don't want to let her down. Her life is important. Most pet owners feel this way too. So if you haven't already, go vote on that link above. Try to look into your pets eyes if you don't. Go ahead, try.
Candace and I are Chutneys people. We are her pack, along with her chickens. She loves the little Bantam roosters and hens and she lords over them like a concerned parent. When she goes out in the backyard, she will make a trip down to their coop to visit. She will sniff and check everything out, but the best part is that she talks to them. She will whine and beep and cry, and they listen, and I am sure they say something back to her, because she will bounce around like small dogs do in that play mode, with wild eyes, ears cocked back and a big smile on her face. At some magical signal, she will race back up the hill and on to the deck. It is a sweet thing to watch. It always makes me laugh.
The interesting thing is, Chutney is a hunter. She is a Fiest, and her focus is seeking and destroying any and all varmints.She has zero tolerance for other dogs. Actually, she doesn't like any animal. We have to keep her from other dogs because she will attack and it has happened before. I ave no idea why she is like this, but she came to us this way.
About ten - eleven years ago, Candace saw a TV ad for the local animal shelter. They showed several pictures of dogs and cats, and this one dog caught her eye. She wanted to go down to "just look" at the dog. We weren't in a position to have a dog, had not discussed getting a dog any time soon, so I went along.
Well, we got there and the dog on the TV was quite large and not at all what Candace had hoped for. As we walked along the rows of cages, all the dogs were barking and pawing for attention... except for this one dog. She was a tiny little thing with coloring like a dingo. She had big german shepherd shaped ears, but didn't look to be even 20 pounds. She was sitting in the back corner of the cage looking like a picture on an Egyptian carving. She was quietly watching everything with her big dark eyes. A worker walked by just then and Candace asked to see her. In moments we were outside with this little dog on a leash and when she was put down on the pavement, she hopped around like a bunny, and yodeled, tail sticking straight up in the air. She was darling, and Candace looked at me with those eyes... This little dog was going to have a new home.
One thing led to another, and we decided that it wouldn't do to have just one dog. She should have a playmate. (sigh) So back we went to look for a suitable companion for this little dog. In the cage right next door was Chutney. She was not yet a year old, or so they guessed. She was cute and had very smart eyes. We took her out of the cage and out to meet the other dog. They seemed OK together, so after negotiations and planning, we signed the papers to adopt them both. The one we brought home that day was Kenya, and Chutney wouldn't come home for several days. She needed to be spayed.
As we waited for Chutney to come home, we went to dinner one evening with a group of friends, and naturally we talked excitedly about the little dogs we were adopting. We hadn't chosen names and someone had the idea to go around the table, and each person would call out a name. We started with the letter "A". A wonderful friend named Torii had the letter "C", and in the next round, she had "K", and that is how Chutney and Kenya were named. It was perfect!
Kenya passed a couple of years ago, and that is another story in itself, but we gave her everything we could to make her happy and comfortable. She had a rough beginning up to the point where we adopted her. She had buckshot or BB's under her skin from being shot at. She had many ailments, but was the sweetest most angelic little dog. It was hard to say goodbye, but isn't it always a terrible day when you lose a pet, regardless of the reason? This is why I ask you to support The Pet Project. It doesn't cost you a thing but your vote means everything!
So Chutney came home a few days later, and while they got along most of the time, every now and then they would brawl. It was scary and ugly and what we think may have been the issue was that Kenya was learning disabled. She did not understand life as a dog. She didn't understand that her postures meant aggression and she would challenge Chutney without realizing it. Bless her heart, she was a few sandwiches shy of a good picnic. It took months just to teach her to sit... For all her problems, she was a sweet and special baby, and we treated her that way. When she passed away, Chutney wanted nothing to do with any other animals, so she is very attached to Candace and I. I cant imagine having to give her up. Can you imagine having to give up a beloved pet because you had money problems? I don't never want to find out, and that brings me back around to The Pet Project. Vote for it so that pets and their people can get help to stay together if they need it. You never know when you may need help in some way, and if it ever happens, the last thing you want to have to do is make hard choices with your dog or cat.
Please enlarge the video for better viewing!
So it is mid day and I will get dressed and go out into the world. Not because I am burning to go out in the cold, but because Chutney needs playtime. We will hang out, and she will explore. She will say hello to her chickens and warn predators to stay away. I will walk with her, and she will walk with me. It is all about love, the love you can only have with a dog... or a cat... that you have vowed to care for its entire life. I remind myself each day that all she gets, all she experiences is through Candace and me, and I don't want to let her down. Her life is important. Most pet owners feel this way too. So if you haven't already, go vote on that link above. Try to look into your pets eyes if you don't. Go ahead, try.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
The November of My Discontent
A few weeks ago, we had snow. Not alot of snow, just three inches or so and it was cold and damp and while beautiful it marked the start of winter, or so I thought. Since then, there hasnt been much in the way of wintery, blustery, bitter cold or snow. In fact, the opposite is true. The sun has been beautiful; not quite warm, but it makes it comfortable to be outside. There is something special about the way the sun comes down this time of year. It is different from spring or summer and it feels like the light comes down gently and lays across the land. Its angular and soft at the same time and being out in light like that makes me feel good.
This is where the pretty part of the story changes direction. You see, just after that lovely snow, during those sweet fall days, something went terribly wrong in the area of my hips and lower back. So instead of being able to be outside getting things done, checking off chores from my list, visiting friends and neighbors and wandering the hills on the ATV, I was lucky to be able to get to the bathroom and back.
So, before this becomes a rant on my disappointment, frustration, and unending suffering, I will mention that tomorrow is Thanksgiving. The third Thursday of every November is Thanksgiving, but as I look back at the majority of the month I find myself conflicted about the whole "thankful" thing. I know that truly, in my heart of hearts, that I have much to be thankful for. I really do, but watching my life go by while I am confined to a chair makes me cranky and whiney. I think that it would do the same to anyone, especially after years of illness, but I digress...
As I say, tomorrow is turkey day, and we will be joining friends for a wonderful meal and communion. This evening, Candace and I prepared cranberry relish, rutabega and apple pie. We enjoy being in the kitchen together. We are a well oiled machine, able to each work on our own project while helping each other as needed. We both enjoy cooking, and the anticipation of sharing food with friends makes it all the better. Then, two days after Thanksgiving, we celebrate once again with friends, and both gatherings have something in common. We will be celebrating with our Godchildren. First Candaces, then mine, though we each claim the others as well. It only makes sense, being that Candace and I are joined at the hip, each of our Godchildren will know us both, and that is a good thing. Something to be thankful for, I guess it could be said.
Then, in spite of the fact that we, like so many others, have felt the pinch of the economic distress that the whole world is wrapped in, we were able to obtain adjacent property increasing our small farm significantly. I wont mention the house that comes with the property, yet there it sits, in a state of sad disrepair, but full of potential. I find myslef thinking about it, planning the repairs that I hope to be able to do to make it livable and useable. You see, I said "hope". I can still look forward, still dream. More to put in the pile of things to mark as ""thankful".
So the more I think about it all, the more I can see that even with all the pain, all the medication, and all the waiting to feel better, that I am so much better off than so many. I dont need to list all the reasons why. That I can see it for myself is enough. What is important is that everyone, in their own way, be able to see the good things, no matter how small. As long as we are alive, there is always a reason to be thankful for it because we have one more day to learn, to love, to be, and sometimes, "being" is the best we can do. This I know, I spent alot of time not having any choice but to sit still. But as I do, I can still see the sun casting shadows through the trees out my window. That window keeps me from the cold and damp in winter, and lets the warm breeze rush through in the summer. I have one place to be where my old and broken body can find comfort, and for this I am thankful too. So yeah, I feel disheartened at having to watch life go by, but I do get to watch. My discontent, well, I come by it honestly. It has been a long and practiced relationship. And I am thankful for every minute of it.
So, before this becomes a rant on my disappointment, frustration, and unending suffering, I will mention that tomorrow is Thanksgiving. The third Thursday of every November is Thanksgiving, but as I look back at the majority of the month I find myself conflicted about the whole "thankful" thing. I know that truly, in my heart of hearts, that I have much to be thankful for. I really do, but watching my life go by while I am confined to a chair makes me cranky and whiney. I think that it would do the same to anyone, especially after years of illness, but I digress...
As I say, tomorrow is turkey day, and we will be joining friends for a wonderful meal and communion. This evening, Candace and I prepared cranberry relish, rutabega and apple pie. We enjoy being in the kitchen together. We are a well oiled machine, able to each work on our own project while helping each other as needed. We both enjoy cooking, and the anticipation of sharing food with friends makes it all the better. Then, two days after Thanksgiving, we celebrate once again with friends, and both gatherings have something in common. We will be celebrating with our Godchildren. First Candaces, then mine, though we each claim the others as well. It only makes sense, being that Candace and I are joined at the hip, each of our Godchildren will know us both, and that is a good thing. Something to be thankful for, I guess it could be said.
Then, in spite of the fact that we, like so many others, have felt the pinch of the economic distress that the whole world is wrapped in, we were able to obtain adjacent property increasing our small farm significantly. I wont mention the house that comes with the property, yet there it sits, in a state of sad disrepair, but full of potential. I find myslef thinking about it, planning the repairs that I hope to be able to do to make it livable and useable. You see, I said "hope". I can still look forward, still dream. More to put in the pile of things to mark as ""thankful".
Monday, November 1, 2010
Chores and Guts Dont Mix
So I start getting ready to go out. I tell Chutney to get ready, and she dances and dashes around my feet. I go into the bathroom, open the top drawer to get the hairbrush, and thats when I notice that the second drawer, Candaces drawer, is in a state of disrepair.That is to say, the side is falling off. All her meds and goods are spilling out, and the drawer is hanging out. I am disturbed by this so I find a small box to empty the drawers contents into. I am mortified at what I find at the bottom of the drawer, but I will leave it to your imagination and have a chat with Candace later. Anyway, I finish dressing, put on my shoes, put on Chutneys necklace (her collar, but she prefers to call it a necklace) fill my pockets with phone, hard candies to keep my mouth moist, leash, keys for Olivia and shed, and out I go with the drawer under one arm. Chutney beats me down the steps.
I have decided that my first order of business is fixing the drawer. I cant let it fall apart. So after gathering all the tools and glue, I clamp it back together, wipe away the excess Gorilla Glue (which is still all over my fingers and probably will be for days) and put away the tools I used. And then I put a few more things, since the shed is a work in progress, there is much to do in there to make it workable. Things to sort, hang, arrange, etc., and so I do. I fiddle, and time passes. Then I remember why I am outside, and I grab a few things that belong in the feed shed and lock up the shed. I will just put these things in the feed shed and then continue down the hill to the rocks! Yes!!
Well, when I open the door to the feed shed, the first thing I notice is that the door is, well, not attached. It is off the track. I now remember that Candace told me about this last evening. I guess I have to fix it. The second thing I notice is that the shed is packed to the door. In order to fix the door, I have to unload some stuff. So out comes the loaded wheelbarrow, boxes of hand tools, buckets, tarps, seed spreader and the grass catchers for the lawn mowers. Then after several trips to the tool shed, the door is back on and working fine. Now I have a pile of stuff in the driveway, so naturally I sweep out the feed shed and do some arranging and before I know it, its a whole new shed. Tidy and neet. So NOW I can go move some rocks.
Thats when I hear the chickens. The "girls" are gathered by the fence, watching for me to bring them some corn. **sigh** SO I fill the feed bucket, the corn scoop and down I go to feed the chickens. I have to feed them anyway, so I might as well do it now while the sun is still hig enough that I can see inside the coop. It helps to be able to see the eggs in the nest boxes.
In the meantime, Chutney is running around and ignoring me. She has decided that there is a foe (chipmunk, mouse, mole, vole) at the corner of the house behind the siding. I have had to entice her away several times so che wont chew through the side of the house to get at whatever it is that she has decided is the enemy. Alot of extra steps and frustration. She keeps ignoring me, and even snapped at me because she thought I was going to grab her trophy for my own. We had a chat about that, and she had a time out in the house alone....
The chickens are happy to see me. I throw corn away from the gate so I can get in and they cant get out. I make my way in with the buckets and set them down except for the compost bocket that is full of cucumber, apple and banana peel and an orange that I sliced up for them. I even tore up some left over corn tortillas as a special treat. They are thrilled as I pour and spread the banquet and as they find their favorites, I do a headcount. I always do. There must be girls on the nest, and I go to dump the feed and gather the eggs.
My first step into the coop stops me in my tracks. Feathers everywhere, and behind the feed can is a body. The hawk has made its way into the enclosure AGAIN. I dont know how. Looking closer, I see the hen is Reba, Candaces favorite girl. The hawk has neetly torn open her breast, taken her heart and gizzard and left a hole in our beautiful girl. I have had to do this too many times and I am sick of it. This is especially grim. I do another count and discover that Nora is missing as well. Nora is Noahs hen. The hen I gave to my godson. She is gone. Not even a feather remains. Now I have to tell him and break his heart and I am angry. Vengeful. We love all our animals, but to take the favorites of my girl and my boy.... this is too much and I vow to take action.
I gather the eggs, the body, the empty food bucket and close the gate. Secure the mesh that is supposed to keep the hawks out. I feel sick and sad but seething too. I MUST find a way tomake this stop. We had three dozen birds in May. Now its just over a dozen. The free meals are going to stop. I put Rebas body in a plastic bag after looking for Noras remains, which must have been carried away by the hawk. The sun is getting low on the horizon and I no longer feel like moving rocks. All I can think of is the hole that used to hold the beating heart of sweet Reba, our special hen. Our most friendly and brave hen. Killed in her home by a cruel intruder. I ended up getting done a few chores, but the guts have soured the day. They dont mix at all, and while I can remember how I felt, full of joy and anticipation at the thought of pushing a few rocks around, right now, I just dont give a damn. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow. Rocks tend to stay put. Maybe thats why I like them so much. NO guts to spill, no heart to break.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Musings Made While Waiting for the Melatonin to Kick In
Its late. Very late, but it is in these hours of silence that I am most awake and alert. Frankly, I am tired of this and prefer to sleep normally, and wake at a time where I could make use of daylight hours. As it is now, I start to perk at around 4pm, and in the winter when the sun rides low across the hills anyway, it leaves me with little time to build up steam and get things done.
That being said, when I am up and listening as I am now, I get to hear the rain falling. I can hear the different sounds as it hits the fall leaves, or the roof. I can hear the water trickling down the spout, then makes its way through the grass. The wind has been strong and gusty for two days, and tonight, branches fell from the tops of the poplar out back and made a metallic blast each time they came down on the neighbors green tin roof. I was startled at first and so was Chutney. She barked and puffed all up as she marched to the back door to give her warning through the screen and into the night.
I guess I like the quiet. It is a different quiet than during the day. We live in a very quiet place, to be sure, but the sounds are different. When the coyotes howl, I feel like they are right outside the house, and sometimes they are, but geez, when they are down in the holler and all those voices bounce back and forth off the hills, you would think there were a hundred of them. It raises the hackles on my neck, and Chutneys too. Candace on the other hand sleeps through most noise. Sometimes she will rise up and blink and gurgle before balling back up with the covers pulled tight to her chin.
I am getting sleepy now. The rain has slowed and so has the wind. I will stretch out, put on the blasted mask for the bipap machine that keeps me breathing :-( and drift off to the whooshing sound of the air being pushed into my lungs. How silly is that? How does a body decide the switch that makes you breathe in is on the blink? AH well, its both curious and maddening, but I find that I feel better for the hastle of it.
SO its off to sleep for now, and you know, I was wanting to write about finding a snake, and moving rocks around the farm, but thats what happens when you are up at 3am. Things dont always turn out like you think they will. I dont mind. I will read this tomorrow and be surprised, and maybe even a bit mortified. Who knows, but I will close for now and its off to dream land. Where will I go tonight? Only time will tell, and maybe my mind will let me see it, and as I wake tomorrow I will remember for the briefest of time as my mind reclaims it and stores it somewhere I dont have a key to. Goodnight.... goodnite.... gnite.
That being said, when I am up and listening as I am now, I get to hear the rain falling. I can hear the different sounds as it hits the fall leaves, or the roof. I can hear the water trickling down the spout, then makes its way through the grass. The wind has been strong and gusty for two days, and tonight, branches fell from the tops of the poplar out back and made a metallic blast each time they came down on the neighbors green tin roof. I was startled at first and so was Chutney. She barked and puffed all up as she marched to the back door to give her warning through the screen and into the night.
I guess I like the quiet. It is a different quiet than during the day. We live in a very quiet place, to be sure, but the sounds are different. When the coyotes howl, I feel like they are right outside the house, and sometimes they are, but geez, when they are down in the holler and all those voices bounce back and forth off the hills, you would think there were a hundred of them. It raises the hackles on my neck, and Chutneys too. Candace on the other hand sleeps through most noise. Sometimes she will rise up and blink and gurgle before balling back up with the covers pulled tight to her chin.
I am getting sleepy now. The rain has slowed and so has the wind. I will stretch out, put on the blasted mask for the bipap machine that keeps me breathing :-( and drift off to the whooshing sound of the air being pushed into my lungs. How silly is that? How does a body decide the switch that makes you breathe in is on the blink? AH well, its both curious and maddening, but I find that I feel better for the hastle of it.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
It Didnt Start Today
Today is the day I began to write about my life on the farm. Not just any farm, mind you, but Candybar Farm. I am talking about the little farm in the holler owned by my partner Candace and me. My name is Barb, and for as long as I can remember, I have loved being out in the country, and now I live in the most beautiful place, surrounded by trees and wild things. Slowly, we have been working toward making the land useful.
When we bought the land in 2005, it was all woods and briar's with a strip of gravel leading to where the house would sit. We loved it right away, and after a speedy negotiation it was ours. It took another year to get our house in and ready for us but it was worth the wait. We rented a house just down the hill so we were able to walk up to our land at any time and dream of the day when we would move in.
We had plans, lots of plans and we still do. We have come a long way and we still have far to go, but that is just fine. We are in no hurry because we are here to stay. We put down roots, the same way the roots spread and held on when we planted the trees and flowers that have made this place ours, but more about that later. Much more.
For now, I am thinking about the stories I will tell, and all the time that has passed since we carried the first box up the steps and into the house. It makes me happy, but it didn't start today. It started years and years ago, when I was a small child running around with my parents who took me everywhere. They were people who loved the country as well, and instilled in me early on the importance of good soil, being a good neighbor, and good New York Cheddar cheese. We covered miles and miles in the car and I remember standing between them on the long bench seat as we hurtled down highways and byways. I remember my hands on each of their shoulders and still remember the thrill of dad turning off the road to stop at some new place; an auction, a park or a place to fish. All these things I remember. All these things are why I write. All these things are why its good to live in the country.
When we bought the land in 2005, it was all woods and briar's with a strip of gravel leading to where the house would sit. We loved it right away, and after a speedy negotiation it was ours. It took another year to get our house in and ready for us but it was worth the wait. We rented a house just down the hill so we were able to walk up to our land at any time and dream of the day when we would move in.
We had plans, lots of plans and we still do. We have come a long way and we still have far to go, but that is just fine. We are in no hurry because we are here to stay. We put down roots, the same way the roots spread and held on when we planted the trees and flowers that have made this place ours, but more about that later. Much more.
Candace and Barb in 2005 before moving in.
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