Warning--this may be a long blog post, without any order whatsoever. Still tired from travelling and the heat...bouncing between past and present lives.
I've been back in MN since Tuesday evening, after a very long day, and many hours at YVR, an annoying wait at immigration. Luckily I had a great book with me, full of humour and some fantastic writing to inspire and humble me.
I was so excited to see G and get back to the farm--this is the longest I've ever been away. It was a beautiful warm evening, the horses were out grazing, the ducks marauding, the guineas screeching, my banty roos dancing and crowing when they saw me.
I couldn't stop smiling. Beethoven gets it....The first movement is supposed to depict his happy feelings when returning to the country. If you've never listened to this you really should give it a go. IV is terrifying, just like the thunderstorms in Minnesota.
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The sheep were happy to see me, Lace wouldn't leave my side, kept her head pressed against my leg so I could keep petting her, and bending down to kiss her face.
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Oakley didn't really notice my arrival, the big goof. Was more interested in the pasture, which G has managed so well. Some local farms I've noticed keep their animals in the same paddocks week after week and they are grazed down to millimeters of grass...I don't understand how their animals aren't starving yet! They soon will be when the cool season grasses finally quit in this relentless heat and UV.
Glenn showed me one nestling who'd just died, as the mites crawled up his arms. I could see the mites spreading from the nest on the rafter, fanning out on the sheet metal roof. I ran to get some of the nasty chemicals we sometimes have to use, and a good pair of gloves. When I reached into the nest to remove the nestling, he was still strong enough to grip it with his sharp little claws, but I dislodged him gently and brought him into the light to examine him. The mites streamed up my forarms, and I noticed what was an even bigger problem for the little bird--a huge fly larvae had implanted itself in the nestling, it's grotesque fat bottom sticking out, the size of a navy bean. If caught early enough birds can survive this, but he was so weak and dehydrated, and with the mites too....I brought him to G and we quickly decided that the little one didn't need to suffer any more, so G went to get the machete. I wrapped him in a paper towel and placed him on the ground, sad I'd never see him fly and hear his cheery little song. G snapped his neck with the tip of the machete and then made sure he'd finished the job-while I looked away and got on with things.
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I've had to euthanize so many things in my life and career, and most of the time I've feel relief to override the sadness-a painless death is a gift, after all. But I've been glad for G to be taking on some of the responsibility, since I'm blessed and cursed with such a visual memory these scenes replay in my mind over and over, and I just don't need that grief in my life right now.
I pulled the nest down, just as a green bottle fly buzzed around. I knew what that meant...Sure enough there was another dead nestling in the nest, along with my nemesis--MAJOH--I call them ma joh rather than maggots to make it sound better than it is. The parents circled and called in distress, but I blocked their entrance to the chook palace and wished them better luck next time. The other nest of swallows all fledged while I was away. As I mentioned-earlier is better.
Glenn apologized for something not in his control, that he was hoping I'd have such a wonderful homecoming, and now it was ruined. As tragic as this life and death dance is that we get to observe so much more than our sheltered urban friends, I don't feel as bad about it when it's the circle of life, as opposed to when we are the cause. The young sparrow I found drowned in our rain catcher stock tank (I now have a mesh cover over it.) The redbellied snake I tried to rescue from one of my hens, who was too far gone to save. The young rabbit G accidentally cut while scything, then had to dispatch, the horrible sounds of rabbit cries in his ears. The robin fledgling he ran over with the tractor last week. All of these uneccessary impacts of our life here on this piece of land. We can only learn from it, and do better next time.
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Lorpie was waiting at the fence line of their new enclosure, as she always does at dusk. The bluebird was singing, so it was hard not to be happy again in an instant. It's an unbelievably cheery and hopeful sound, just like the barn swallows chatting, that perhaps even Beethoven couldn't express with music and an entire orchestra.
Maybe Alex Lifeson could. Sitting at the airport for so long gave me a chance to listen to music on my IPod I haven't heard in a while. This song is brilliant--nothing but passion and a 12 string guitar.
"Hope"
Mom was saying I should try my hand at song writing-but who needs words when you can say it without?
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It's funny how sounds can be so soothing and familiar, or exactly the opposite. I've had my share of city noise for a while. I was so happy to get to Ladysmith to Jody and Nathan's farm, where the pine siskins and ravens made me feel right at home-those familiar comforting sounds of our yard in Saanich--my first real island haven.
I'd planned to write about the last 24 hours as well, since it's been interesting, but it seems that the day is already gone. It seems I've gotten a little rusty with the farm girl life in only 11 days. I made some mistakes yesterday that could have led to badness...but luckily they didn't!
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| Getting busy digging up the raspberries. Will have to do something about that...
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