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Showing posts with label Donkeys of Apifera. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Donkeys of Apifera. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 17, 2021

Ice...and Boone is good

 

The storm of Monday night came and went and we got off easy but it still created iced gates and barn doors. The warmer air on Tuesday caused heaving which meant many of my barn sliders were wonky. I had planned ahead and worked on some of them the night before anticipating ice, but forgot one of the inside barn sliders-just meant I had to carry water and hay farther. All is well. And Mister-I-Ate-A-Whole-Bunch-Of-Sand-Clear is fine, what a relief. I love winter, I really do and the snow has been pristing all month [except for the barnyard where I can't shisel the poop up yet]. But I have to admit, I'm ready for warmer sea air to come by, hoping next week. Meanwhile I've had router issues all week so internet access has been spotty but I got it all taken care of with a new router...I hope. It's always somethin'.

Monday, December 23, 2019

Happening now! The First Celebration of Bells!



This week, out of the blue, I got a package from a long time reader and follower. When I began unwrapping it, my mouth dropped open and I was so excited.

She had sent me all sorts of bells, from her many travels all over the world. There were bells from a trip to Thailand many years ago, bells from so many different trips. What she didn't know is I was planning on taking out my other bells I had for the ponies and letting all the Apiferians wear them over a period of days in a Celebration of Bells. It felt like a beautiful way to ring in the season and new year.

I feel like each jingle you hear is from one of the many Misfits or Apiferians we have loved and cared for over the past 16 years.

What I loved is that she had held onto these bells and knew somehow that it was time to let them out into the world for another person to enjoy.

It felt like such a genuine gesture. A gesture that shows she truly understands my spirit, and intent. This woman has purchased a lot of art from me, and always takes time to share how much my art has meant to her over the years, she will take a picture of the pieces throughout her home and it is very fulfilling to see how my art has touched her in such a way over the years. She told me this again, in her note, and that these bells just somehow needed to be with me.

So today, I let the donkeys do a mini parade. They did exactly what I said-I told them to feel the bells and go in a line like fancy Clysedales might in a parade.

I especially love the sound of the Thailand bells, they are older and the leather is very old but the bell sound is deeper than a commercial brass bell.

I think I am officially into bells.

Thursday, August 22, 2019

"Fly, oh why?" asks Paco the Poet


{A conversation and poetry reading amongst donkeys and flies}

“I like to let them sit in the sun so the wings get a bit crispy before I eat one,” said Lucia, the smallest of the donkeys.

“You eat them?” asked Paco.

“Yes, but I don’t chew, just swallow them whole, they are less bitter,” she answered.

Just then, a bunch of flies came swooping in, landing on the ears of the donkeys, and their legs, backs, necks and noses.

“Good morning!” said the flies. “It is a wonderful sunny day, perfect for being a fly on a donkey.”

All the donkeys collapsed in the dusty earth and begn to roll and dust.

“I hate it when they do that,” said the lead fly. “It squashed my aunt last week.”

Paco brought out a small piece of crumpled paper. You see, Paco is a poet. He has been writing poetry since he was a young donkey. You might not have ever met a donkey poet most likely because donkeys are very humble about their skills. Paco hid his talent for years fearing the herd might think him odd. But they heard him reciting a poem once to a bird in a tree and they really liked it, so from that day on, they encouraged him to share his poems.

“Do you have a poem to read, Paco” asked old Matilda.

“I do, it is called, “Flies, Oh Why?” and then he cleared his throat and began to recite his poem.



“Flies, oh why?
Why do you bite me? Why do you hover?
It is hard for a little donkey to find cover.

We wait all winter for the warm air
We want to lay about without a care.
But you come along and picnic on our backs
This is very rude, we are not snacks.

Yesterday I was listening to the song of a bird
It was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard.
But then there came a buzzing to the left and the right
You ruined my bird’s aria and made him take flight.

Can’t you find another skill that wouldn’t ruin our day?
Perhaps you could learn to fly a kite or make love in the hay.
I know it’s your life and you will do as you please
But I will have to squash you if you chew on my knees.
I’m sorry.”



The flies all stopped for a second, their buzzing was hushed to silence.

“How would we go about learning to fly a kite?” a young fly asked.

“Now listen, you are a fly, you are not a kite flier!” a big manly fly said.

“Let’s go make love in the hay,” a lady fly said to the manly fly.

And with that, the flies all swarmed to the hay barn.

“Paco, don’t let anyone ever tell you that your poetry has no power,” said Pino.

And with that, the donkeys took one last roll in the dust to scratch their fly bites, and headed down to their field of grass.

Thursday, August 08, 2019

I fell into a hole

Misty mornings of old llamas

Autumn and winter are my seasons. And there is change in the air. The heat we've been having is subsiding with cooler nights and even morning mists, the air has a different scent to it of late, and there is more crispness in many of the flowers. Certain trees have brown or yellow spots popping out. And I love it. It always gives me hope when I get through August. I just am reborn both creatively and soul wise. I can get really off kilter in August, it has been this way my entire life. I can actually find myself in a hole, without even knowing I slid into it, it's like a slight depression or worry or...feelings of I'm not doing it right...I'm not doing enough...is anybody listening....and other useless thoughts. So the first signs of autumn...I lighten up.

It will also mean that fly season will end...at some point. It has been a tough year as far as bugs go. But soon enough they will leave. Not soon enough for old Matilda who has had her legs wrapped and sprayed daily. After she became infected from bites our first year here I had a vet come to help-never had the issue out west. So I take fly issues very seriously. The last thing she or I need or want is a case of proud flesh. So the wraps this year are helping. Last year the spray worked well, but not this year. Everybody and their mother has given me their two cents on fly control, so I've heard it all, and have tried it all. Yes, we tried predators for two years...meh. Yes, I tried mesh leg wraps...meh. Yep, used Swat and it worked until it don't. Yes, tried all sorts of natural fly products which don' cut it with biting flies. Might help house flies or other things, but not the sharks of the fly world. I had a fan in the barn for the farrier days to help and it did [but leaving a fan on is too dangerous so I don't.]

So, we roll in dust, find shade, and today after a morning of down pouring rain...I can again feel Autumn talking to me,

"We come back every year to you, taking away the bugs and the heat and humidity and we give you your head and heart back. We're coming, soon. Love, Autumnal friends."

Girl George wears breakfast, why not/

The final barn addition has begun-consider a donation

Old Matilda's leg wraps

Tuesday, August 06, 2019

Fly Camp!



Welcome to Fly Camp! This morning Paco is teaching all campers about the importance of dusting! This once a season camp is only open to very resilient campers, for example, I was sent home on day one. Campers must know how to get through August without complaint and by using their bodies to communicate their displeasure with biting flies. Communal dust baths are an imperative part of Fly Camp.


Friday, July 05, 2019

The Matilda bond

I had to look up the date to see how long Matilda has been with us. It was 2011 when we brought her home. I can't really imagine life without her. Matilda was being used as a brood jenny, the story goes, and fell into some hard times. She was not being fed properly and her feet were neglected and she was very thin. While she still has a sway back from carrying all those babies, she is in good condition and we love her dearly, as does anyone who lays eyes on her.

This was one of the first photos I took of her on her arrival, adorning her with flowers she so deserved.

Matilda has a very clear, and old soul. She wears it in her eyes. Over the last few years, we've grown even closer, since I have to work on her more than I used to-I put fly ointments and sprays on her daily since they bite through her skin-she is more of a magnet for them probably due to her age. We have a routine each morning where she is fed separately to ensure she gets her supplemental feed, and then she stands for her fly spray. When I'm done with that, she continues to stand for a gentle brushing. Working with a creature like this grows any bond and trust that was meant to be.

Tuesday, June 25, 2019

The choir sings to the animals...was that a dream of sorts?



Yesterday was perhaps one of the most memorable times at Apifera in our many years of existence. It was one of those days where the glow began from the first moment, spontaneous encounters happened each step of the way, and by the ending it was like...a dream of sorts.

The Homeward Bound Hospice Choir  came to sing to all the animals. I had met them through one of our volunteers, also in the choir. The choir is a group of people from all walks who volunteer their time and heart, and voice, to sing to people in hospice. When I came into touch with this group, I immediately asked if they might come and sing to the animals. They immediately agreed and sent me a date that would work-that date turned out to be yesterday, which was also Birdie's birthday. Hankies!

Now, normally when I have a group coming, I might rearrange animals into paddocks or barns so the people can see them up close. But on this day, I made a conscientious choice to let the animals be...as they are...I let the donkeys and Boone go to their fields, knowing that if the energy was right, they'd come up when they heard singing. And they did. More on that later.

I had old Else and the elder gang, and Opie and The Goose, in the orchard, and that is where we began. In some ways, this was the most touching scene for me. I had packed lots of tissues in my vest, and hoped I'd get through the day without becoming a blubber fest. Else is on her last summer, I am pretty certain of that. She enjoys the sun, and spends most of the time laying down, which she was doing in the clover and grass when the choir entered her area. I was busy doing something and when I looked up, the choir and lined up in front of Else, and that is where they first began to sing. It was as if Else was there just for them, and vice versa. And then The Goose arrived, voicing, or singing, but also checking in on Else, which he does regularly.

We went on to sing to the llamas, Arlo infatuated them all, and then on to sing to Earnest who greeted each singer through the gate, and even did a belly flop [a sign of true pig happiness]. White Dog was next and he of course loved it, The Teapot was as I thought she would be, The Teapot, snorting and chewing her hay. And then into the equine area. The donkeys and Boone were in the lower fields. I suggested the group begin to sing, and I did yell down to the field to get their attention. Old Matilda began her slow walk up about 400 or so feet, and that alerted the donkeys to come up. I knew that Boone would most likely wait, and in Boone fashion canter up in a beautiful Boone way, and he did-and that was a beautiful moment. The donkeys were right close to the singers, and Matilda especially won their hearts.

And then, we sang Happy Birthday to the nearby resting spot of Birdie. I made the entire day without a blubber, till then.

The day hung on even after they left, it was a glow, a glow that comes after certain special encounters, or music concerts or gatherings. I think what I felt the most strongly, after I had time to gather my thoughts, was that...this is truly where we were meant to move to, this exact spot, at this exact time. The scary reality of leaving the old farm, the pit in my stomach when I was the only one who knew we were moving to Maine and I knew it was a calling of some kind and once I expressed it out loud all hell would break loose...all that turmoil ended up landing us in a place that could bring us to this moment.

The other thought I had was, all the animals, and me, we are a bunch of bodies walking around, but we are so connected, like a string of old pearls...I have heard people repeatedly say it is a magical place and I believe it is magical-because the idea of what Apifera started as long ago came from my child's heart, and it has remained true to that essence and intent. One of the reasons I am not interested in having an open farm event every week, nor do I accept people's pleas to visit [or very rarely] is because this is my haven, this is where my heart lives entwined with the trees, fields and creatures-it fuels me to create and write, but I also fuel the creatures with my intentions-and they turn around and act the way they did yesterday. They didn't do any special tricks...but what resonated with the guests, I believe, is the pureness of my intent that is channeled through the animals and is demonstrated by their gentleness, their acceptance and enjoyment of the people. Animals know our intentions. And one of my intentions with my animals, is while I teach them boundaries [ie ground manners that are and aren't acceptable] I allow them to be...just be who and what they are at that moment...a grumpy pig or cat, a sour little spitfire pony, a young llama learning the do's and don'ts.

I also am a firm believer that music is a healer and communicator on so many levels-for all creatures including people. When I worked with Boone, I often sang to keep his canter or trot going. Mothers have been soothing babies for centuries this way, music is a rhythmic cue to our animals. And of course music is a vibration and I believe it connects us with our souls of long ago.

The entire day was 'pure'...of pure intent. It wasn't about propping photos for social media and marketing [although we all did take pic and video, thank goodness], it wasn't yoga for baby goats to gimmick us into the paper, it was pure and raggedy and imperfect. I loved the choir-they are not the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, they are just sweet people singing, a note or two off, it was so Apifera.
Oh, I should mention the song choices were all spot on....including "Angels Hovering Around".


So there you have it. They came, they sang...and I can guarantee not one of them left here without a buzz.






Tuesday, March 12, 2019

Okay, we will miss snow covered Teapots

Spring is upon us...really, it is. It has been sunny and 40's for two entire days and the ice is dropping and birds are singing, the pussy willows are popping...and just two days ago this was the scene. It has been a long, icy winter [for so many] and as difficult as that can make farm life [or any simple tasks for all of you reading] I have to say I loved seeing the The Teapot and donkeys in their snowflake suits. So I guess just as we yearn for the tulips and spring blooms this time of year, come November we will look forward to seeing our little short and stout masterpiece in the snow. The donkeys and her are getting along well, although Old Matilda still thinks she is a bit forthright in her attitude. The Teapot comes into a separate stall at night to prevent overeating. Earnest, the poor chap, has given up on being friends, I think. He moved his bed to be near Boone's area. I thought it was sort of sweet, he has always liked Boone and can commune through the fence.

Wednesday, October 24, 2018

The rapture of the first fluffs

Old Matilda came out with me today to greet the first snowflakes of the season. I greet snowflakes the same way I greet spring tulips-with rapture and kid like joy. My farrier and I were in barn early for trims this morning and it was raining, when we left, snowflakes. And I yelled out, "Snowflakes!"

They are such sweet little creatures that are each individual in their makeup. Imagine their journey, they start out as liquid and swirl around way up high and travel down to earth, some have short lives, others stick around.

Monday, July 16, 2018

Old Matilda has a request

We are still raising money to defray the cost of the yearly hay that will get us through spring. We have raised about $1000 of the $3,000 needed to add back into our piggy bank.

Anyone donating through this week will get their name in Pino's bucket and one person will take home an archival print -either art or a photo-their choice. I hope to have some other incentives in the next couple weeks.

Anyone who donated initially in the last couple of weeks, your name will be added into the bucket too!

You can go to the Hay Fund page and donate, or donate on the donation page on the blog. I will add your donation onto the hay fund page so we can all keep track of what we are bringing in.

It takes a village of Misfits to keep this place running! Thank you.

Thursday, June 21, 2018

Paco explains summer solstice and Lucia worries her head might explode

I arrived to do morning chores in the outer barn, and there they were, the three of them just as you see here. I stopped in my tracks and took a photo. They did not move, and as I returned to the inner barn to do my cleanup, I heard Paco,

"The summer solstice, also known as midsummer, occurs when a planet's rotational axis, or geographical pole on either its Northern or its Southern Hemisphere, is most greatly inclined toward the star that it orbits."

"Huh, is that so?" asked Pino.

"I don't like thinking of the world as spinning," said Lucia.

"Im glad there's gravity or I'd be on the moon," said Pino.

"And your head would burst open if you didn't have a space suit on," Boone chimed in from the other paddock.

Lucia started to hamper, she did not feel good about this.

"It's okay, Lucia, nobody is going to explode. it is a day of celebration, It is the longest day the year, and think about it, we can take more dust baths under the blue sky today than any other day in the year!" said Paco.

"That is something to celebrate," said Pino.

And with that, Paco rolled, and rolled, and rolled.

I might strip down later today, after the hay has been delivered, and do the same. No pictures.

{The majority of our 540 bales of hay arrive today! Please consider a donation to help us refill our Apifera piggy bank. Thank you!}





Wednesday, March 14, 2018

How much snow can a donkey shovel

It snowed a wee bit. Just a tish. Then it snowed a tish more.

Or as we say in the barn when it's just us Misfits,

"That's a ##$%^##@ lot of snow."

I must follow my own code of ethics–no weather whining [unless it involves biting flies, then I can whine because I am usually bleeding from wounds]. But, even us winter lovers do get worn out this time of year when these storms keep coming back to back...to back.

But, oh it is beautiful.

This morning I stopped midway to outer barn, just to look. Imagine, I thought, if you had never seen snow and you woke up to this?

Imagine, if they told you today is the last day you will see...or hear the way the snow sounds as it lands...

I had planned to be in the studio which has sorely missed my presence, as has my bunny studio mate, but the time I got done shoveling in the front barn, I was already sort of pooped [for the record Martyn was good enough to shovel all the way to barn for me, since it was well past my knees, usually I just trudge on]. I arrived at the outer barn, and I let out an expletive-in amazement. Then I counted heads to make sure all Misfits were accounted for.

The way we positioned the barn means the exits are under the metal roof, and sliding snow creates mini avalanches. I will say last nights snow off the roof created a great wind barrier for the donkey stalls. And it was pretty cool, it reminded me of when we had so much snow in Minnesota as kids and we would carve out forts from the huge snowbanks.

I am getting a bit worn out, but it is better than ice storms, or earthquakes. Or...you know...biting flies.

Being the eternal optimist and lover of all things Nature has to teach us, I took today as a sign to slow down, enjoy time with my flock and Misfits after all the shoveling. I was rewarded in many ways...including with llama love. Birdie followed right behind me as I shoveled out the avalanche on the sheep side of the barn. She was very concerned I think.



Tuesday, February 27, 2018

Paco's butt gets the blame

"Ok everybody. Let's try it again, on the count of three, line up!"

Scuffle, tail swishes, sighs...

"Move over, " Lucia said.

"I can't, Paco's butt is in the way," said Pino.

"That's because you're facing the wrong way again, Pino," said Paco.

Tuesday, February 13, 2018

When I'm terrified, I look to Matilda's eyes

"I've been absolutely terrified every moment of my life and I've never let it keep me from doing a single thing I wanted to do." {Georgia O'Keefe}

I pretty much feel this way too. I have moments of deep doubt, or fear, of the future, about what I am doing or not doing, about what will become of me, and Martyn, our earth, my animals, is anyone listening or looking at my art, is any of it enough?

Old Matilda and the animals, along with Nature, reel me back to a more compassionate view of both world and self. It is all about the now to them. Is there food, are they safe, do they have their herd, do I show up-those are their questions.

I think it is human to be terrified the minute you leave the womb, maybe even before. I imagine out little human brains floating around in mother thinking,

Something just doesn't seem right and boom, you are born. No choice, human-wise. It's the soul that must propel us outward into the unknown frontier. Like leaving the warm house every morning to feed the animals, and the cold hits my skin, I could retreat, but there is so much life out there relying on me, and I get so much each morning helping them.

So Matilda's soul is right there for all of us-in her eyes. Can you see it, feel it? She's been through some stuff, like any of us. But she shows up each morning, just like I do, like you do. We are  a team of possible terrified-ness. But we choose to go on, and seek out calm. For me, the calming these days comes from just showing up, and working at what I love be it art, writing, or animal therapy work...or simply relishing my food bite by bite.

Even in her photograph, Matilda's eyes seem to mesmerize her viewers.

Saturday, January 27, 2018

Paco eats a parade


"I want to be in the front!" said Lucia.

"It's okay, she's the youngest, let her go first," said Paco.

So Paco had his birthday party this morning. He requested an Animal Cracker Parade Cake, which requires no baking-but don't be fooled they are actually rather problematic to make since the guests often follow you around while you make the cake.

Like most donkey birthday parties, it was short. Once the cake is gone, that's it. But there was a lot of good chewing going on.

Paco has been so proud all week, sharing his poems, and helping Apifera bring in some needed donations. He likes to be helpful in any way he can, in between getting into donkey mischief. He said he is working on a special birthday poem that I'll post for him as a final thank you over on his birthday page which ends tonight.

We are so happy Paco was born.

Monday, November 13, 2017

"I'm going as fast as I can"

The morning chores and feeding actually begins at 5:30 a.m. I'm still in bed but that is when the animals note that the front porch light comes on and Martyn lets Muddy out which makes Marcella bark and then the pigs squeal. But they stop, because they know this is there are other things that must happen in certain sequence before their breakfast. It is not until they hear Martyn's truck leave, and then they hear the front door open again and I let the blind pug-then Marcella barks again and the pigs begin their second squeal session. This second pig squealing lets the entire farm know that breakfast is really close.

When Benedetto sees me walking to the front barn, he wags his tail even though he is quite far from me, and I always wave to him.

And the pigs squeal again but this time they don't stop until they each have grain in front of them. The rooster is crowing and the cats are scratching at their door and Marcella likes to taunt Moose and Goose while getting ready for breakfast. I feed the hens and Opie invariably gets in the coop and I have to tell him,

"You are NOT a chicken," and he scurries out with me.

As I leave for the outer barn, Benedetto is always there at the gate, his giant nose greets me before any other part of his body. The donkeys then bray and the sheep and llama wander out to see if perhaps they will get some grain-but they never do, and they know to return to the barn this time of year where hay is laid out for them.

Meanwhile, Boone is front and center at his station in the barn anticipating his hay and Matilda positions herself at private eating area where she gets a bucket of senior feed away from the others. Old Sophie has entered the barn because she knows she gets her own special breakfast there where she is assured privacy.

And in the background are the grumblings of The World's Grumpiest But I'm Fine As I Am Pig, aka Rosie, who is both delighted it is breakfast but also annoyed she has been awoken, again, and that it is quite chilly.

Between greetings and feedings, I usually calmly tell them,

"I'm going as fast as I can."

I don't think they believe me, except Benedetto who takes everything in stride.

I return to the front barn-I have to let Maxine, one of the elder cats, out of her crate where she is fed to ensure calories, and I usually sit with the cats for a spell. I often look over into Marcella and Earnest's suite and depending on the time of the day, the sunlight can be so beautiful on the straw.

Morning has broken on Apifera Farm.