Old Rudy passes on with grace

Old Rudy has died. It was sudden but graceful death. There was no indication in the past days that his time was coming. He did have trouble keeping weight on all winter and into summer, despite medications and vitamins, so who knows what was going on inside his thin body. But he spent his last days like any other, napping wit some casual grazing after breakfast, more napping and evenings in his favorite spot-the duck hut.

When it feels right, I capture these pre-death scenes in images, as I did last night. I like to share them as an homage to the life passing, but also to the death entering. Death is the balance of life. I think we humans are so out of touch with much of real life-that is, Nature–that of course we can't imagine death. I always am struck by the beauty of the animals around death, they simply acknowledge the situation, and continue with their normal habits–if they feel safe, of course. In the background, Marcella slept, confidant all was well. It was only when I carried the body out this morning that she became agitated. There are so many touching moments in a death scene like this-Stevie coming over, gently bending forward to smell the passing; or Raggedy Man looking up over the body–did he sense something there I as a human am not able too after thousands of years of my species closing out our once innate senses?

Last night I went to do chores and heard Rudy cry to me. He had cast himself in the duck hut. That was the first and last struggle he'd have. I got him out of the hut, upright and standing, but he could not hold his front end up. I was able to guide him to the main shade shelter, but he collapsed as we got there. He drank a bit of water and he sat upright for about twenty minutes, but his head was hanging low, his eyes were closing. Giving him the water reminded me of my mother, who died in 2013. The nurse had just helped her sip some water, and she died, with a smile on her face. Each death here revives my inner acknowledgment of my parents' deaths, making me feel more comfortable that they were in good hands and had everything they needed, just as this old goat did.

I sang him a short song and told him he would do fine in this next journey.

I don't know if I will, but I hope we do meet again, somehow, I told him.

There was that human desire to continue on somehow with all of the things we love about this realm-but we can't quite grasp what it will look like-because maybe it won't look like anything we know. Maybe there are sensations after death we can't grasp. It's those "spaces
in between" again, the reasons abstract painters paint.

When I returned with hay for the herd, Rudy was lying down, almost unconscious. His breathing was slow and calm, there was no leg twitching or straining of the neck, signs of death taking the body. I opened his eyes and I could tell he was close to the final breaths. I said my final goodbyes, covered his eyes with a light cloth to keep the flies off, and went back to be with Martyn. I shed some tears; I told Martyn it was a good death and he would be gone very soon, but that one of the things about my work here is to be open to walking away from a dying creature to give it space and peace. Each death is different, and each hospice has different needs. Rudy was really gone when I walked away, he had let go, and by me letting go and walking away, it was now up to his body to finally shut down. The animals around him had acknowledged him. They understood the situation and were okay with it.

As sad as I was, and surprised, I was also happy for him. To go so quickly is such a gift to any creature, including a human. We can all hope for this death, surrounded by our home comforts be it hay or bed, conscious until the last moments of our time here doing whatever it was we liked doing-in Rudy's case that was eating, napping and grazing.

Old Rudy came to us with his long time mate Tasha Teats. Their original owner sent them to New Moon Farm Goat Rescue after her husband had died, as she felt she could not care for them properly. They were very arthritic, and Tasha was worse; she died shortly after arriving here. Rudy reminded me a lot of Old Man Guinnias, hard hooves to fill, but Rudy had a personality of his own. He was a gentleman and liked people. He was not a loner but preferred to be alone in his beloved duck hut. For some reasons, he was a chicken magnet, right up until the moment he died as you can see in these photos. He had a long beard and despite his very crippled legs, continued to roam the fields every day. I will miss him, he was a greeter, always bleating to me when he knew I was around.

He went out as he lived.

Uproar! We have missed two birthdays!

I am just so sorry.

I didn't forget. I just didn't...think fast enough. You see, I have a lot of birthdays to remember and keep a little list in front of me on my computer. But the list sits next to about 350 other pink sticky notes.

So, when a knock came at the door, in this horridly cold and freezing rain day, I knew something serious must have happened. You know the routine–a note is slipped under the door, the hoof steps of little feet go off in the distance, and there before me is a note, brief as always, from The Head Troll:

"Old Rudy. Birthday missed."

Which of course made me look at my list and then I saw I had missed Muddy's birthday too! I was thinking it was late November. Good grief.

I am a horrible, horrible mother.

To make up for it, I'm asking everyone here and elsewhere to leave birthday messages to Old Rudy, who is 13+ and to Muddy who is 5. Everyone who comments here on this post will get their name in a hat-and I will let Mud pick out one winner so someone will get a book. He loves putting his head in buckets.

Autumn Fashion Show of Misfits

The Autumn Fashion Show of Misfits was a success, although quite exhausting for attendees and models not to mention the photographer who rallied against slippery mud and slippery goats to dress each one quickly to make it on the runway in time. The Misfits now have a great selection for the colder, rainy weather that might require outfits and we are all thankful for the generosity of our followers who sent us dog coats, pony jackets and old sweatshirts [which are remarkably useful on a farm].

If you don't see your coat in the fashion show, it is only because the models ran out of steam. And the upper barnyard of Misfits already had a little fashion extravaganza. I also have two now that will work for Victor and Sophie should they need them on top of all their curly wool some extra cold winter night. There are some very small ones that would work on Moose, or sick lambs if needed. Thank you, everyone!

So sit back, and enjoy the show!

Life with a bunch of comedians

There is not a day that goes by that I see something out in the barnyard to make me laugh. It's like being surrounded by a travelling stand-up...well, somewhat crippled comedy troupe.

Even if I am deep in thought, or doing mundane tasks in the studio or farm, I get a jolt each day just by looking around-how grateful I am to have this relationship in my life-with this farm and all that entails. Life is going by so fast, faster than it seems it did in my twenties, thirties or even forties. My mother used to say,

"Once its Labor Day the year is over."

I always found that pretty pessimistic, but like many things mothers say, she was right.

I hope you have someone or something in your daily life that can bring you laughter. Feel free to share who that might be....

I have to run-I just saw a piglet run by with his little block head stuck in feed container!

Helping an old goat...why, he asked?

"Why do you help these old animals?" he asked.

I was talking to a casual acquaintance, who I'd run into at the feed store. It was a brief encounter, less than a minute, as he was on his way out and I was just at the counter.



How do you explain it in a 10 second sound bite?

"Because I need to, and want to," I said, feeling clumsy with the answer. And we went on our way.

But I thought about it a lot, how do I explain it to myself or anyone else-why do I feel compelled to help old creatures, especially the raggedy ones?

The easy answer is, because it makes me feel useful, and helping any creature, be it goat, donkey or old man, feels good. It is the right thing for me to do–to help others, somehow. And we are all able to help someone, somewhere, in small ways, or big, if we choose to. 

I am far from being a hoarder, please understand that. I am not trying to fill a hole left by a long ago wound or lack of love. There are many well intentioned people out there that get into bad situations by taking on more than they can manage, or they fall ill and things start to crumble for man and beast. My vets have told me about cases, I've seen it happen around the area, I've taken on some of those animals that came from such situations. Some of these people are mentally ill or unstable and they are doing the best they can with their abilities at the time. Some are elderly and are doing their very best. Some of them are just...in over their heads and too stubborn or ignorant to make a change.

But I started looking at the deeper reasons I am bringing on Misfits. I looked back over my life and early on, with my curly red hair and chubby cheeks [I thought] I felt ugly and out of place. I loved being at home and with my mom and our dogs, and nature. I wasn't a loner but I was very independent while at home. I would entertain myself for hours, alone in the sumac bushes or up in a tree. I was smart, but lacked confidance through my early years, and into college. I remember I would see my school chums going to camp, and my older brother went to camp too, but I didn't want to go. I wanted to be home.

Home.

When I went off to college, I chose a far away in upstate NY. They had a riding program and I wanted to expand from my family and get away, even though they wanted me to stay closer. They thought I'd have trouble being away. I had a real hard time that first year-and following years. I had friends, and had a lot of fun [it was the '70's, you know] but I always yearned for home.

Home.

I have built a solid life here with the farm and Martyn. I know what it feels like to be grounded with land...and entwined with my passion of art and writing. I know the feeling of driving down that gravel road and feeling like I'm part of it, and I'm safe, and happy. And I know what it feels like to have to leave it. I just want to help creatures that once had this same sense of home–but lost it. I am empathetic to the broken hearted-for once you lose your mother, father, child or mate, you find yourself yearning again for that far away place that brought you safety and comfort and fed you both emotionally and physically. You can feel the shade of that old tree you liked and how it seemed right. It doesn't matter that each day had its imperfections, it is the sense of those days, the essence of them, that soothes you. Some call it meloncholia. I call it a memory blanket-those senses of the past no matter how edited covers old wounds from dust in the wind.

So here I am, a happy, middle aged woman who has a farm big enough for many. And when I witness an old animal, such as Old Rudy here, settle in over the months, I feel good because I've been able to give them a place to put on a memory blanket, and take a nap in a place they can feel like they are...home.

Nap of the old man

Old Rudy, caught napping. His beard against blue stripes is worth all the gold in the world.

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I think they came over to help

Before my mother died last Spring, I had a favorite place out the back of my studio I liked to sit while we chatted by phone. We'd have coffee together over the lines and share the goings on of the world, family and farm. It was covered with the canopy of the cherry trees and to the right I could see the barnyard.

After my mother died, I couldn't bring myself to sit there anymore. I figured in time that would change, but it has been a little over a year since she died and I still hadn't returned to the spot. I guess it's marked with trauma. But I felt a need to sit there quietly today. It was as if I was pulled their by something gentle. Maybe it was because for the last couple of days, my dearest cousin-the daughter of Uncle Clayton who some of you might know as the horse whisperer whose farm inspired me all my life to have one of my own someday-perhaps by her being here and sharing old stories was a turning point. I don't know.

But after they left this morning, all the good food, wine and conversation had me full of good energy, but I was also tired and needed to slowly restart the routines of the studio and farm. After chores, I took my coffee and found myself going to the old spot outside the studio.

It was as if there was an internal voice, slightly pushing– "Go on, go out there, you will remember how good it was to sit there."

So I stepped out and sat down for the first time in many months. But I wasn't alone. I spied Old Rudy up against the outer fence, resting in the shade of honeysuckle and eaten bramble. And then Aldo came lumbering over and lay down some 10 feet from me, near Rudy.

They never have sat there to my knowledge-they both have other haunts they like in sun and shade.

I suppose it could be a romantic notion. But I choose to believe it as a wonderful greeting not only from them, but from others who wanted me to go back to that spot and enjoy it again. It is a renewal of sorts.

Post Script: More intrique. After I left, and was back in studio, I noticed within about 5 minutes they had left.

The three refugees and one pig tail

Marcella has kept me challenged as she goes through her puppy hood–one example is having to keep some of the more debilitated elders safe from her playfulness and sharp puppy teeth.

The first elder I separated out was Aldo and Scooby–ony because when she was little I didn't want her to get kicked by Aldo. I think it would be fine now, but the arrangement keeps needing adjustment as Marcella matures [for lack of a better word!]. Scooby could handle her, but he really likes to be independant of everyone, most of the day anyway. So then I had to separate Old Rudy out, who is very crippled. He can't run fast and if he needs to move or head butt, he gets unbalanced. She had scraped his ears badly, so he was then moved into live with Aldo and Scooby.

And then came Professor Otis Littleberry, who had grown somewhat unkept looking, lost some weight. Then I witnessed it ll one night and realized Marcella had been running him around, and pinning him to play with him. He had scrapes too.

So they are the Marcella Refugees, and they are happy as clams. Their area shares gates with the main barnyard, but they are pleased to have their own area not bothered by youngsters. They actually have it made as their orchard opens up into one of the crossed fenced pastures. and hey, they neighbor with the pigs.

I sensed Professor especially is much happier being away from Marcella.

In time, Marcella will be a wonderful guard. Right now, she is being a normal 5 month old, learning, making puppy mayhem at times, but also doing a bit of guarding-when she's not playing with Earnest's poor tail.

If you like to hear about the antics of Marcella and her Misfits, please consider a small subscription or reward donation to help Apifera maintain the many elders.

Spring warms the earth and the naps begin

The first really warm days came to us-and it is really no different than I remember as a child–all one wants is to be outside in it. Nothing else compares to the first days of spring. The earth's ground is still cool making the warmth of the sun like warm slippers and a sweater. No need for a jacket, but no need to strip off layers due to over heating. It's just you and the warm air with beginning wafts of the Indian Plums blooming. The daffodils are up and their is pink fuzz forming on apples and cherry trees. Spring is hope-for a new growing season, new life, new ways of looking at the same old things popping up into one's eyesight.
And it means the barnyard becomes a sleepy, dopey place where nappers abound. Marcella takes to the shade and we see the first hint of how her thick coat will make her a shade lover.

Old Rudy keeping it real

I have been manically wrapping, packing and shipping all the pre orders of the book and totally underestimated the time involved. But, it's okay, it's exciting. I also underestimated how wrapping the books, packaging them in an Apifera way, putting the label on and knowing in 2 days that specific person would open the book-it felt so nice–like giving a gift rather than sending a product out.

The time involved in wrapping them individually with hanging tags and embellishments makes me feel the recipient will feel something tangible from the farm. I suppose the book–if I succeeded-will do this too, but I just like wrapping stuff. My father loved Christmas and birthdays and wrapping things in very special ways–I guess it is fitting then since he is such a part of the book.

But life is here, on the ground, and the animals and farm keep me grounded. I found a quote I had given some years back–

"Painting lets me float, farming keeps me grounded."

I actually sound like I know what I'm talking about! But, I do feel that way. And as I was rushing around all day in the studio and to the post–again–I came out in the rain to do night feedings. The first voice I often hear is Old Rudy who is going on 13. His shoulder is getting very extended and he is on daily pain meds, but his eyes are bright and he still climbs steps to sit up high. He loves to go off into the wood shed area of the barn to be alone–just like Old Man Guinnias did. I'm so glad he found his way here. His former owner is too and it makes me feel good she knows he is cared for. I spoke to Rudy again tonight, as I always do, telling him he is double loved.

Rudy is in the new book of course, and don't forget there is a Special Two Book rate on through November. If you only want one copy, visit the Misfit page.

I'll be watching you

Little Moose watches Old Rudy.
Peach watches Little Moose.
I watch them all.

Old Rudy ready for guests

Old Rudy is ready for his very first Pino Pie Day.

I think I will have him in one of the front mini paddocks by the donkeys where he can lay around in the shade and partake without having to be in the rush of things. Sometimes I look at Rudy and my heart skips, as he can look and act so much like Old Man Guinnias who died last year at age 20+. He is always missed. But Rudy is so charming and kind. He has similar traits to Guinny but also has his own unique persona. His daily pain meds have been helping as I see him cruising around longer grazing in between old man naps and the vitamin shots have helped get pink back in his lower lid showing us the anemia is lessening. I can tell he is more himself too, so am grateful I had the vet out when I did.

Rudy is not a loner, but I think because he has lost a lot of mates in the past year, including his life long mate Tasha Teats died this January, I think he has become a bit more reclusive. He bonded a bit with Lofa who died suddenly this spring. Rudy comes and goes into the goat barn, often sleeps near The Pig, takes walks with Little Moose and Goose following him like he's the cat's pajamas, and then he likes to retreat to his favorite napping spot - the wood shed. Oddly, this was Old Man Guinnias' favorite nap spot too. Rudy always calls out to me when he hears the gate open, as do many of the animals in the morning. But I always sense Rudy is saying, "Good Morning, I'm over here, can you see me?" versus, "Feed me first!" like some of the goats - I won't mention any names. Rudy is also the best role model for getting injections and meds - he even sucks the syringe after getting doused with wormer.

So if you come to Pino Pie Day, be sure to greet Old Rudy - he's the gentleman with the long beard and sweet smile - you can't miss him.

Read more about all The Misfits adopted by Apifera.

Holy Pig! That's a vet bill! And other updates.

The Pig flies by after glimpsing the vet bill, creating a rush hour storm to the barn.

The vet visit left my mouth hanging open when I got the bill. Over $500 and that didn't include Little Moose's ...um, snip.

"Holy PIG!!" I declared.

And The Pig came running. She is speaking to me again after the vet and one assistant, and me, helped snare her and trim her piggie toes, give her shots and examine her skin. I was sure she would ignore me for days if not longer, but the next day I offered to annoint her piggie ears with Destin to sooth the crusty skin - and she calmly agreed with,

"Hrump grunmpolump."

To any one in the pig know, this means, "OK, I guess."

Since then, she has greeted me in quite a pleasant pig state.

Meanwhile, Little Moose spent a couple days avoiding me - or watching me from a good 10 feet. I was after all the person who held him while he was sedated before he had his Big Boy Surgery. He now is back to himself, exploring, romping, and making me swoon with his babyness. He and Goose are a team of rascals! Little Moose is now sleeping out of his baby crate that his former owner graciously lent me - and he now likes to reside in his rubber supper dish - it appears to be a perfect fit for his tator tot body.

And last but not least, the vet also did an assessment on both Stevie and Old Rudy. The latter was anemic and I now have him on a regime to get those blood cells working and he already has pink back in his lower lid. Phew. I caught it in time and I was unerdosing his flee treatments. He had no worms which was good but those sucking lice can really hurt an old goat quickly.

So we are on track in the barnyard!

Except I have informed them they all need a paper route to pay the vet bill. It does not look promising that any will take me up on this offer. So feel free to chip in here or here to help defray the vet bill for Rosie the Pig and Stevie and Rudy. {And remember, no matter what, these animals are cared for - some people like to help me with my out of pocket expenses and anything is appreciated but nobody is obligated or expected to help.}

Singin' and hummin'

The warm weather we've been having makes us all happy and springy. With an extra kick in their morning steps, the flock sings at intervals, and the old goat naps and quietly hums himself to slumber. We relish these overly warm days, even though the valley is dry and we need rain for summer's eventual heat. But...I'll take it, selfishly.

After this weekend's Super Shepherdess Extravaganza Trimming Feet - Worming - Sulfa Treatments and CDT Shots for 40 Ewes, I'm still feeling like Old Rudy here - like I could take just one more little nap. But no rest for the weary. I'm impressed with myself I did them all, solo, in one morning-afternoon session - if I may gloat a bit. The last couple nearly killed me however. I actually like trimming feet - kind of like vacuuming, it is necessary and when complete, one can look at a new tidy version of the former. And my girls are actually very well behaved and stand for me. The pygmies, that's another story.