Farewell, dear old lady

I found old Luci cast yesterday afternoon about 3pm. I had stepped out of the house and saw a cast black animal in the distant granite dust. The animals like to roll there, so I called out and the mound did not move. Then Peso came running out of barn, and he was agitated. When I got there, Luci was cast, exhausted, and somewhat stuck, her feet in the sand. I was able to roll her up into the cooch position, and began massaging her throat-upwards- in case it was choke. But I knew it was more. I didn't have my phone, ran to house and was able to talk to the vet on the road. She dropped everything to get to me, as we both knew this was most likely a case of putting an old animal out of suffering asap.

 

There were many, spiritual and beautiful moments that would come in the next 30 minutes while I waited for the vet. You must understand, Luci is a survivor, she is independant and not prone to letting anyone in, not wanting attention of pets or small chit chat. So the fact that while I sat with her, the birds chirping in Old Apple, the fact she laid her head into my chest, I knew she was so ready to go. I did not have one ounce of regret, not one bone felt uncomfortable knowing we would put her down. She was ready. I've been at many euthenazias and this was the most ready I've ever seen.

 

The vet came, and agreed. The swollen nodes in her upper neck could have been thyroid issue, but could have been other issues too. It was not choke. Luci arrived here 4 years ago, having been bred all her life, including in her 20th year, even though she was very thin. We got some weight on her, but she never put much on. But she was strong. I knew the coming winter would be problematic, and just the other day was thinking that as I fed her.

 

Did she hear my thoughts?

 

All the donkeys had gathered at the nearby fence. And Peso and the sheep were nearby, looking, then grazing. I took a small daisy and put it in her hair. For that one photo, I thought, she looks happy in that photo. But she was tired. She went immediately. I was so grateful for how the afternoon unfolded. I had decided to not go to Coves with Lumpy due to humidity, and if I had, I would not have been here for Luci. The fact the vet was 30 minutes away, and got me so fast was a blessing. Their were thunder storms coming, but they passed over us. I was there to hold her and keep the many horse flies off of her. The vet, at her own expense, later would take a sample out of the two neck lumps. It was clear and she felt that showed it was not a thyroid issue. But she will get back to me -as an educational point for all of us.

 

Luci, I will miss your teethy smile. But more than anything, I'm so happy for you, that you could go out with dignity and that I was there for you, and your mates were all around, and birds sang you to the heavens. Luci was 25.

I'm not even sure how to title this

I am sorry to report that Luna was put down. Deep breath on this end. We can’t be 100% sure but we think it was a combination of a tumor or abscess -the lump in the side of her throat) combined with choke. I did some things right when I first noticed it on Thursday, and the next morning she seemed ok but on feeding again she had trouble so I called vet. We were looking at old pics of her and could see a slight lump and think maybe this had been starting a few months back and since she was eating ok I just did not notice. 

Luna and Luci weren’t handled much so I do not examine or touch them like I do Harry and Arlo. So..I learned some new things on any future events. My vet -always kind- said not to beat myself up-even if I had called sooner the idea we could have done surgery on her going into winter on a very old body was not really practical. But if anything happened with the others I would know to act sooner-or she gave me some tests I can do before I did call to help assess. We put her down in the paddock-one has to think about getting her body out-and everyone was there that she is used too-Earnest watched, White Dog assisted my vet , Luci and Arlo who came with Luna watched...Harry in the distance. Damn it

I have decided it is best I also share two pieces of information with you, now. Because I am open here about the bad and the good, withholding the sad things is not healthy for me. I just know it is hard on some followers, but that is not my responsibility to care take that, and it becomes a burden on my soul to hold things. But if you can't handle more sad, best read elsewhere today. Firstly, my beloved Mister Mosely is at the vet today after I discovered this weekend he has yellow skin. There is no scenario that will be presented to me after initial tests that will likely be good, but I am praying we will be able to treat him [and there are some treatments for some scenarios]. Mister Mosely is so special to me. He is the cat equivalent of Hughie the pug. I'll be honest and say...I'm a bit ticked off. But I'm trying to stay in the light. But, really, Mister Mosely? Why? And of course, there is no answer, and it isn't personal but I do not want this. It wasn't suppose to happen. 

Secondly, it has become crystal clear that the right thing to do for old Honey the horse is to euthenize her before winter. She came out of last winter thinner than fall and many vet evaluations over the spring-summer-fall, dentistry work, diet changes, additional supplements, she is not gaining, she is loosing. We've done photos too every month. She is 30+. It is time. She has hardly any muscle and I can see her getting weaker even though she is still a pistol in the herd. But she simply can not digest her food anymore. It would be cruel to make her go through winter. And even with 4 coats on her, she would suffer. I have done my best for her in this last year. But it is time. While I was unsure in summer, I have no doubts this is the right thing. That will happen next week. 

One of the reasons I want to tell this upfront is if you can't handle all the loss here, combined with the volatility of the country right now, I just don't want to bring anyone further down. But I want to share the reality of life here. What I want more than anything is to help Mister Mosely. Entering the house without him was horrible. He and I are very bonded. He started acting a bit off a week ago, so I weighed him and he'd lost a pound. I made a health check up for next week. But then I found the yellow skin and was able to get squeezed in today with my vet [thank you!]. But now when I look back over the past days, the way he was looking at me did feel different. He was telling me he needed help. The car ride over, he was purring and content–that's so like him. I will do whatever I can for him. 

People ask how I can go through loss after loss. Sometimes, I can't. This one....this one might explode me. One thing I've learned about myself, since I am an optimist, is I tend to just keep going in a crisis, buck it up, but often I carry that around without sharing the load. Of course I tell Martyn, but I am the one that makes the final decisions, I am the caretaker and executioner. I am the one who walks around for the next coming days knowing I am going to put an animal down, and even though it is the right decision, it can eat away at you. I often crash the next day and have palpitations or a headache and realize how the holding it in can cause physical illness. I have begun to dance again to relieve stress, and deep breathing too.

I told Mister Mosely as we left, "Don't worry, I'll do the worrying." And I just sort of stopped in my tracks, and thought, man...I need some worry co-pilots I think. So that is why I'm telling you this. You can watch all the free videos of Pickles and Harry and songs and donkeys and joy but you also get a free look into the hard stuff and that goes with it.

Busy as bees

Harry and The Haircut

My blog is where I now choose to write more lengthy ponderings. I seem to be much more prone to being a photographer right now, but I still have many thoughts. I find that I have less inclination to share them all to the public or followers. Maybe I've been doing this long enough that it seems I say,

Who wants to hear all this anyway?

I am definitely in some kind of grand shifting. I suppose being 62 does that.

So I tend to come here on the blog with things of more depth or pondering, and Instagram is everyday, and that is then shared on FB.

I'm just popping in to say I do have some things to write about, but May is a very busy month on the farm-getting the vegetable garden up and going which means getting the watering system working well, llama haircuts, sheep haircuts, spring shots, the perennial beds and we also have the new Healing Hut or whatever it is I will officially call it-photos soon as it develops more, it just arrived and I love it.

Arlo's poof needs some layering

Listen in on another animal discussion...I always learn something

Harry looks across the bay to Damariscotta that he was about to visit

{I write a monthly article "Tails & Tales for the Lincoln County News, this is the latest....enjoy}


“What did you see this time, Harry?!” asked little Opie, very excited, as Harry the llama and I returned form our outing.

“Many things of interest,” Harry said. “Many things. Some beautiful, some strange.”

Harry and I had just returned from one of our Window Walks to a nearby retirement home where we go regularly. Because of the The Covid virus, we can’t go inside, or be near the elders or staff, so I came up with the idea to do Window Walks. It gives everyone a smile even though we wish we could all be outside together.

But on our way home, I stopped in our little village of Damariscotta with Harry. I wanted him to hear and see new things, it would be good for his therapy training. The minute we stepped out of the parking lot, people of all ages were flocking to Harry. Shop keepers were coming out of stores to take his picture, cars were pulling over and windows were being rolled down so children could pet Harry. Even our gas station guys had to meet Harry.

“Did you get take out at Eider’s?” asked Earnest the pig.

“No, Earnest, I’m afraid not, maybe next time,” I said.

Earnest walked slowly back to his hut, head down like Eeyore, muttering, “I really would have enjoyed a grilled cheese and cucumber sandwich again.”

I let Harry into the paddock, and the donkeys and horses all gathered around him in a circle. I proceeded to do night time cleanup, but kept my ears wide open to the ongoing conversation.

“Tell us everything, Harry,” said Captain Sparkle.

And they all closed their eyes tightly, and listened to Harry as he described in detail all that he witnessed.

“There was an ice cream shop. They put ice cream in mobile little things and people walk about and lick them as they walk. Very odd, to see creatures eating and walking. There were signs everywhere! And lights that blinked. It’s not like here, the roads are black with yellow drawings on them, and the cars go both ways. All the windows have pretty things in them. I saw lots of beautiful children and they all touched me and looked at me like I was a God of some sort. And did you know that people buy little statues of lobsters and put them in their garden?  Very perplexing.”

Paco the poet donkey opened his eyes and asked, “When you were amongst the buildings, could you still see the sky?”

“Oh yes, but it felt lower, and more cramped,” Harry said.

“I would like to talk more about the walking ice cream,” said the Teapot, the resident creature with a bit of a weight problem.

I was done with my chores and started to close up the barn. As I left, I heard Harry say,

“I have no idea what makes me so attractive to the humans. I’m just a llama,” he said.

“I bet it’s your haircut,” said The Teapot.

Me and Harry...a surprise relationship...and we want the elders to have emotional healing too

A year ago, we lost our beloved Birdie, a natural healer who had just begun her therapy work with me. I knew I'd never replace her, but set out to bring more llamas to Apifera. First came Arlo the youth and old Luna. Then I was to get a baby girl with her very old mother [I agreed to take on the elder] but the baby died before getting here.

And then, I remembered a beautiful white llama named Harry who I had found in my early searches, but decided to keep looking.

I'm so glad I returned to him and brought him to Apifera. I kind of had a hunch about him and possible therapy work. But I was really focusing on training Arlo. So, it was one of those universal surprises...the universe stepped in and helped me out with my hunch while I was running around finding llamas, Harry was waiting for me.

As Harry got used to Apifera, and me, I took a leap and tried him on a window walk. The first thing I had to do was let go of the idea that he was going to be like Birdie. he is not, and it took him a couple months or more to accept my neck rubs. On his first therapy visit, it was clear from the get go he was pleased, and he listened to my commands, and was calm. He seems to really understand he is there for a reason, something all good therapy animals get. He is on the job but not being forced to do anything he doesn't want to. Opie is the same way, he knows when his halter goes on it's show time. Not every animal, or person, will be like that so when I find one, it's a blessing.

SO Harry and I are bonding. This photo was taken by one of the staff yesterday, she told Harry to smile and he literally leaned into me! So sweet, I like to think it was on purpose.

Yesterday we visited Cove's Edge again. I'm getting more and more impatient with things. So are they. Cooped up, no family visits. I just feel we have got to get testing to a point so these people can have emotional well being as well as safety from the virus. I understand the concern, I really do, and am not criticizing the current lockdown, but what quality of life is it if they can't touch, feel, and sit by loved ones.I don't think I'll be able to resume normal therapy work inside or even in the garden in the coming months, maybe mid summer, but so far it is not going to happen except for window walks, at least at this facility.

We are not allowed in of course, we walk by the windows. Sometimes they have their windows open, it is so hot in there. Yesterday my contact was scolded for allowing the windows to be open with Harry outside, and me in a mask. I thought that was a bit much, but I will do what I'm told.

With the windows shut, I can't hear the residents, and they can't hear me. I can't really see in either, but they can see out which is the most important thing. But I feel our conversations are as important as the seeing Harry. Some of the residents are sharper than others and they want to talk. It makes me very sad I won't be able to have long talks if the windows are shut...but Harry and I will do what we need to do and what is required by the current rules.

So my wonderful contact there suggested we try Facetime with Harry for some of the residents. We tried it and it is not the same, but, it works and we will continue to use Facetime in some situations. We also are going to try Facetime with the other animals here at the farm. I am not that familiar with it but this way Bear, and Opie and the others can beam in to the Cove. I'll keep you posted.

One doesn't fear the seasons, don't fear death

Luna one of the elder llamas

I think a lot about death, not in a morbid way, but in a curious way. I have said it many times, I am not afraid of death. In fact the last thing I want is to live too long. I always felt like 78 to 82 is a good time. I know, it's not my place to pick the number, but if you gave me the choice of living until 85, in assisted living or unable to be with the animals or Martyn, or dying at 78 on the farm, I'd take the latter.

I think because I have been so entwined with Nature much of my life I have looked at death like you might look at a season. Most people don't dread seasons, but many dread death.

I have a friend who is in her early seventies and was diagnosed with ALS last year. It stinks. To see her lose her ability to use her arms, drive, have strength to do simple things like pick up a book on the floor-it is hard to know she is going through it. But she is stoic and practical and a hero in my eyes the way she is dealing with it. I think when one is confronted with something like that-a disease or illness that is going to pretty much be the way you will die-it is different. In some ways, knowing how you are going to die could be a liberating thing. Dying when you are not ready, to me, is like being at a great family party, and you're just not ready to go and you are enjoying the company and you want to see how the party plays out, you don't want to miss one song or toast.

So when I say I'm not afraid of death, I am aware there are many things that are worse than death, like suffering, like pain, like abandonment at an old age, like losing total independence, like losing your mind...like falling on a hike and being lost for weeks and not being found-what are those last days like?

I think of death as an experience. And a surprise really. I imagine, or I often ponder this, that if you are aware you are in your last moments, it must be really a surreal experience. I wish we could know what people are thinking at that moment. When you are born, someone is there to catch you, hold you-you are not alone. You are not alone in the womb either. But when you die, chances are you can't communicate what is happening, you are alone with your thoughts.

The latter is interesting. As someone who writes and shares story and feelings, knowing I won't be able to share the last moments in a story seems challenging and isolating. On the other hand, I was thinking that because you are alone in your thoughts when you die, it must also be a beautiful gift to the self.

People talk of a good death. A good death is important to me as I care take my animals. I always strive for it, or yearn for it, and I'm always questioning if an animal needs to be helped on, or not. A good death is not always a perfect death. We are presented with things in life that might effect our death. But a good death I think must include awareness that is an experience of the self and soul.

It is something nobody can take from you-your own individual death.

When I watch Luna get older and older, she arrive here old and is now 22 or so, I want her to have a good death. I think Aldo had a good death, up on his hill. I hope for this for Luna. I don't tell her this, but I look in her eyes more of late and tell her that way, that I'm here and I will properly care for her body. To die under the old apple tree, that would be a good death for her. And it will be her experience.

The old llama...is it her final spring?

Old Luna sits under M'Lady Apple this morning

In the past weeks I've felt a shift in Luna. She is not holding her weight well despite eating supplement to her hay. I've fed her more than any elder llama I've had and I think when she is sheered in coming weeks she will be pretty thin. I check her ribs and such, but when winter coats are taken off it shows reality.

More than that, she has been up and down more which can be a sign of fading. She has fallen pasterns so it probably could be part of it. But she is also separating herself a bit more than normal from her current herd. Usually she kind of sticks close to Luci when they graze-and let's face it, Luci isn't exactly Miss Congeniality.

I like Luna. She is not an overly friendly llama, but she is not unfriendly, she is not as feral as Luci. Luci is just sort of a pill. She just doesn't seem to warm up despite my intentions. And she is very bossy with Luna. Luci is the old llama that was bred, and I was to take her and the baby. But the baby died at about 2 months old, it was very sad. But I agreed to take on old Luci so Luna would have a herd mate since Arlo had to be separated.

So I know how this can go with llamas...we went through it with Aldo, our first elder llama out west who came to us very thin, and he was already 20. The vet said not to expect him to live that long. I think he lived another year and half. But one day, he died, far up on his favorite lookout. He was legs up when Martyn drove off to work that morning, and the yellow jackets had already devoured his entire head. I'm sorry, but that is the reality of having animals. It's not all pretty Instagram photos. In some ways, in most ways, the fact he died up on his lookout, his head close to the sky, was beautiful for him...it was beautiful for him. But I had to get help to drag the body down about 3,000 feet. It was about hundred degrees that day, the yellow jackets were everywhere...I was trying to save his skull as we dragged the body.

I'm telling you all this because when you do this sanctuary gig, you have to be part of all aspects, not just the fun part of bringing home an animal. You have to think all the time about demise and burial or what paddock is best for an elder. Sometimes you guess wrong.

I was thinking of letting the sheep and Luna and Luci go into the far field. But then I already was thinking if she went down in that field, it would be hard to get her body up. It's still very wet there anyway. And to be honest, Luna does a lot of laying about as in this photo so i think shade and warmth and water are her choices she wants right now.

Luna has really beautiful eyes, and when I came out to the barn late morning to work on some fencing, she was alone in the shade of the barn. She didn't get up. I talked to her.

I always look for her now when I'm out and about in the field or gardens. I know what it looks like when a llama is down, and gone.

I may be wrong. But whenever she goes, I hope it is peaceful and maybe under the old apple.

Harry keeps walkin'

I was asked if Harry could do a Window Walk at Lincoln Home and after consulting Harry we obliged. They have really long windows, and no screen so we were able to see in well too. Harry had to figure out the refection and of course he's no dummy, but it did occur to him that there was a really handsome llama looking at him. He touched the glass and figured it out.

And Harry got his first look at the cove, and the little village across the bay.

Harry is proving to be a real trouper. He does everything I ask of him, calmly. He is just a wonderful Love Llama. We will see how he interacts with people when there isn't a window between him and them.

I want to take Harry into the village and just walk hm around, before we are all out of lock down. It will be a good experience for him. I don't think there is a law you can't walk your llama in town, so hopefully we won't get arrested. but if I have to get arrested, I'd be proud to do it with Harry.

Hands reaching out a window-the tradgedy of Covid

I had a really wonderful, engaging visit with Harry at the Cove on Friday. It was a truly special visit. I was told that there would be hearts in the windows of the residents who wanted a Window Visit and when I got there I became teary eyed when I saw all the hearts. It was wonderful My contacts are inside and they go room to room, and then I follow the hearts, it works great.

On top of that, they all had their Harry buttons on. Oh so sweet!

The staff also gets so much out of these visits. I am so happy I can share llama love with them especially in these times.

I think it is so hard especially on elders who already face challenges of isolation and fear of dying alone or unremembered. My goal is to always make them know I remember, even if with the dementia people it might be a fleeting thought to them.

I know how much the visits mean, and it makes my role all the more rewarding.

I just feel like we have to come up with a better way to deal with this for the elders, and patients in hospitals. I do not have the answers, but I do know without tests we will get nowhere safer than where we are.

To see the hands coming out the window, wanting to touch Harry. Wanting to touch. To touch– such a human need, to be touched, to touch. I do not of course touch anyone on visits, and to be clear, nobody could touch Harry at this point. The windows are opened so some residents can get a better look. I have a hard time seeing in due to the screens, but with the open window we can all talk back and forth, from our usual 6+ feet, with masks.

"I love you, Harry," old Sunny yells out to me. And then a resident tells me she has not seen her husband in 4 weeks [I think longer to be honest]. I try to be optimistic, but realistic with them. I don't lie, I don't tell them they'll be outside tomorrow. But I do tell them it will end, and we will all be together outside.

"Cooped up like inmates," one gent said in humor. He was there for rehab and would be going home, which is wonderful.

My visits with Bear and Opie are on hiatus and that is hard. If you read the last post, you know Opie wants a parade when this is all over. I agree. With pot banging revelers too.

These elders have been through many challenges in their lives. They are not sissies. Old age is not for sissies. And as one elder friend added,

"Life is not for sissies."

Another Harry song for you

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Harry has another song for you...have a nice evening everyone...#HarrySings #apiferafarm

A post shared by Katherine Dunn / Apifera Farm (@katherinedunnapiferafarm) on Apr 11, 2020 at 12:43pm PDT

Llama window walks of love for the elders...and it helped me too

This resident loves our visits, but she had a huge smile when she saw Harry!

While I realize my llama can't cure a virus, I do know from experience he is a magnet for smiles, and smiles promote joy and healing. The anxiety I was feeling in the past days were gone while I was walking around in the rain with my llama. I know Harry helped me, and I know he helped others. Such a good rainy day we had! Imagine what we'll do together in the sunshine!

The elders at our local residence we visit have been on lock down for a couple weeks, confined to their rooms due to a stomach flu, but then the virus took over in the outside world and they are still on lockdown. I am confidant the swift action of the residence staff will prove wise and that our elder friends are going to be okay. I have been so missing my visits with Bear and Opie, and seeing the faces of people I have grown attached to. And I also hate thinking they might think I have abandoned them [some have memory issues, but many don't]. After the third week of no visits, I also realized how important the visits are for me–they give me one more sense of purpose as a caregiver of hope.

So I emailed and asked it I could bring Harry the llama over and we could walk by the windows so residents could see him. They loved the idea, as did I. I figured Harry was the right choice, he is white so easier to see, and taller and more mature than Arlo. Yesterday we knew it was going to rain, but it was POURING! They emailed and felt badly I would have to come in such nasty weather, but Martyn was home too, and I was determined to go–I was really looking forward to it.

So we got there and my two contacts at the home came out ready for the weather [I had on three layers it was raining so hard and I must say, I was quite the sight]. So did Polly one of my volunteers. And there we were, a bunch of nuts walking around the facility building in the down pour. It was so fun!

Harry was incredible. I mean, I was just so proud. I have never had Harry off the farm, nor did he go off farm at his birth home. When Harry arrived, he was very well behaved, but a bit shy with touch-I knew that would take time. He was very well handled by his first and only owner, so that was a God send since he is intact. I took him for a walk on the road the day before, to see how he'd do around cars-he was great, ad really relied on me as a leader. When we got to the residence yesterday, I just was so impressed with how he paid attention to me, and did everything I asked of him. It was sort of like an obstacle course [a great training method] because he had to navigate between objects, shrubs, jump over puddles or walk through them, and he did it all with confdence. The sound of all the gutter water was new to him but he did fine. And what I really loved is he truly was engaged with the people on the other side of the window. Photos were impossible due to the screened windows but I got a few.

The staff also got so much joy out of it. They are working so hard right now, they always do, but with room bound residents, meals are served in each room, there is so much to do.

I can't wait to go back and plan to do it weekly with Harry. I love working with him. In time maybe Arlo too, or the ponies, we will see.

The virus situation has moved so fast. Maine finally got their first case, someone in the military that came home, and there is a sense of...anxiety. In fact...we have every reason to be anxious. But I will continue to do my animal work and try to bring some relief in a small way to the elders.

I also underestimated that this would bring so many people watching it unfold-my followers-so much joy. I go about my work because I love it, and feel compelled to do what I do. I don't do it for attention and rarely partake in conversations in the comments sections of my pages-it is too much energy and it is like a big cocktail party and I am not a cocktail banter person. But I did feel proud that Harry and I gave joy to so many with our little llama drive by walk.

This woman followed Harry in her wheelchair to different windows

The staff need llama love therapy too!

Birdie reaches out today....from...everywhere

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A post shared by Katherine Dunn / Apifera Farm (@katherinedunnapiferafarm) on Mar 21, 2019 at 7:15am PDT

Birdie's been on my mind. It was a year ago when we were giving her physical therapy twice a day, trying so hard to help her. We did that through mid March. This film was taken the night before she died. I documented everything on Instagram, and I even keep it all on my phone so I can go back and look at it sometimes. I don't do that as much now. But when I do , now that is has been a year since she got sick, what I see now is an animal that was fighting the fight-with me, and maybe for me- but there was a moment in the photos where-now-I could see her change. Her hair even looked duller and grayer. Even in this film posted here, when I posted that back then, I didn't think it was the end. I could still see a smile there, a tired smile, but a smile. When I look today, I see how tired she was. The next night, she was clearly...pushing away a bit, in her demeanor. I am not even sure anymore, if I did right by her, fighting so hard to save her. I do know she was trying. I'm a bit sad that maybe I should have given my usual speech, "It's okay to let go"...but it wasn't ok because selfishly I wanted her to stay, and she did, as long as she could.

Today, I got a package from a kind follower. It had a gift for Bear, who arrives in a couple weeks, which I will let him open. And a package for me. My mother was rolling her eyes in heaven because I am notorious for opening gifts when they arrive, not waiting. When I read the woman's sweet note I had to open it. The woman had been following Apifera awhile and was very fond of Birdie and was so sad when she died. But sometime near Birdie's death, her mother grew ill, and she was caring for her, which was a challenge both emotionally and physically-any caretaker can tell you the toll it takes no matter the love surrounding it. She said that in the hardest days, when she felt like she was in a fog, she would repeat to herself, "Birdie On, just Birdie On!"

This just made me rip open the package, I knew what it would be-a soft fluffy white llama doll. Now you don't have to all go out and send me llama dolls, but I have to say, the fact I've been thinking of her so much lately, and hearing this woman's story...I go back to my belief I've expressed many times...we are all connected-in actions and breath. It's not about not making mistakes, it's about understanding your words and actions have repercussions, and we get to choose how we'd like our repercussions to be felt-as positive, kind, sincere, authentic...or hurtful, harsh,domineering and judgmental.

As Lou Reed said so well, "Spittin' in the wind comes back at you twice as hard."

Birdie never spit, and together, I think we formed a union and partnership that helped me shine my strengths, showing the world what I wanted to be and could be if I just had a llama with me.

I think she was part of that doll that arrived today, reminding me, it's okay, she's where she needed to go, and I'm here where I need to stay for now. I truly hope we meet again.

Strike a pose

Luna strikes a regal pose

I've been very sick with a chest cold for a week or more and it is finally breaking and today I'm feeling better, but still not back to true form, but there is hope in the beautiful blue sky at least. I've been enjoying the sun on my daily chores, going slower than normal and just soaking in the last days of fall.

I felt this photo of old Luna was one of my best in a long time. She sort of struck the pose for me on her own, but the addition of the branches and blue sky....just really loved it.

Meanwhile Sylvia Pettini struck her usual pose but had her own headdress...which I learned from my followers is called a fascinator. Everybody kept using the term and I stubbornly looked it up on my own. Learn something new everyday.

Anyway....here's to a better day for anyone who is suffering through a cold.

Fallen cosmos with the cove in the background

Sylvia Pettini and her fascinator

Harry...and his magnificent haircut arrives

Harry journeys from mountains to ocean, complete with prayer flags

On Tuesday I was up at 3:30 to do chores. We were on the road at 4:45 AM headed to the Berkshires, a 6+ hour drive. I told Martyn we were not going to do any 12+ hour round trips anymore to pick up animals...but...it was Harry, he was worth it. And, we got to see the Berkshires, and the leaves had started turning. We also got to meet Harry's owners and see their beautiful place [which by the way has a sweet little Air B&B where you can enjoy the area, but have llamas outside your window].

I had so many memories flashing though me as I drove the old familiar highways I knew from my time in college back in the late '70's. Seeing the road signs that could send me up to the Saratoga area where I spent some summers at school, or small towns in New York and Vermont of college friends...it got me to thinking of memories of long ago-like driving to Canton for freshman year with my parents, and we stopped at the old village historical site, that was jogged in my brain when I saw the road sign. And the mountains. I miss the mountains. I am very happy in Maine, I love the ocean, but...I have to say the mountains have always been kindred. The ocean is more like my inner womb I swam in as a pre-human. The mountains feel like a protecting wisdom all around me.

When I first saw Harry, he was standing next to another male herd mate. He was even more beautiful in person. He is very calm and loaded right up even though he'd never trailed. He rode in the trailer for 7 hours back to Maine, with the prayer flags hanging above him that followers sent for our 6 day journey from Oregon to Maine three years ago. I never took them down and it was nice to know they still send prayers for our travels.

It was dark enough when we got home that I opted to leave Harry in the trailer for the night. He was lying down when I went in to sit with him for a spell [llamas couch/lie down when they travel]. He has a very sweet expression. He listened intently. The time between picking an animal up-when they leave their home-and the arrival is always the most unsettling for me. I want the animal to know it will be ok, and I know Harry felt this. When we loaded him, his former owner took time to say his final goodbyes in the trailer...it was sweet. I truly believe that even though Harry knew this was different, the intention of his former owner was clear to him, and my intention was also clear to him.

The next morning, I brought Harry out. It reminded me of my favorite movie, The Wizard of Oz, as Dorothy opens the door and the b/w scenes turn to color. Llamas are naturally curious, and Harry had so much to see. He had lived in the same place his whole life, so this was a big day for him. I was pleased the The Goose didn't harass him-The Goose is protective of me and when new people come in, he usually runs to them [although he has never down this with elders, which I think is so intuitive]. He heard familiar sounds of donkeys and chickens, but he'd probably never seen pigs so that was pretty new for him.

When we go to the outer barn, I let him nose Arlo, but opted to put him in a stall where he could meet everyone though the fence-sheep, horse, donkeys, ponies, White Dog...and Luna and Lucy were introduced to him too, but he will not share a fence with them for obvious reasons. I did chores and decided to see how he did, and let him out to be with the docks and Boone. My animals know llamas, and there was no drama. I thought there would be more drama between Arlo and Harry at the fence line since they are both intact [which will change come spring] but there really wasn't.

For now, I'm letting him stay with the equines, he seems content. And I can still work with Arlo and keep him more focused on me in training...I will let them in together soon to see what happens, but all indications are it will be fine. Arlo is very content now I think, he has his little Misfit herd of ponies and White Dog at night...and me.

So, welcome, Harry. It will be much fun to see how you settle...will you like therapy sessions? We'll find out. No pressure, Harry. And maybe your purpose is to smile at us....who dos that remind you of?

Harry enters Apifera for the first time

Harry smiles...who does that remind you of?

Arlo expands

I took Arlo, Opie and Captain Sparkle to visit residents at Cove's Edge last Friday. I figured since Sparkle lives with Arlo, I'd bring him along and test the waters. Captain Sparkle did just fine, in that I tied him in the shay area and he was well behaved. I brought him over to meet people and he was a bit mouthy so that is something to work on, but he wasn't horrible and all in all he did just fine. He got a bit any. I will need to do 30 minute sit downs with him in the coming months.

Arlo did great, and this was his first real outing. He really likes it! He stands front and center like a super model, and then shared himself with everyone. He also met his first beard.

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

Another elder has landed and my butt is sore

Keeping our commitment, we brought home the old llama, Lucy, who was the mother of little Button the one month cria we were also going to take. But Button died at a month old due to who knows what. The plan was to bring home the baby with Lucy so that Luna would have a suitable buddy, since we had to separate Arlo out until he is geldApifera. I had only seen one photo of her, back when she was pregnant with Button, and she had her winter coat. Even though I would not have chosen to breed her, I thought she looked pretty good in that old pic. When I first saw her at pick up, I felt she was thinner on the backbone and hip than I had imagined she'd be. She could be much worse, but...I hope to get more good weight on her. We will see. At a certain age, llamas can also develop teeth issues making grinding their food harder so they might be eating a lot of hay and grass, but it is not getting digested properly. I have her on supplement too.

ed. When Button died, we felt it was only the right thing to still bring Lucy to

Martyn and I got up at 5am to drive west the six hours to our destination to meet up with the hauler. It was not exactly a relaxed ride. I was not looking forward to another 12 hour round trip to pick up a Misfit, but I decided to make it fun and knew I'd get to see the White Mountains. I was raised to always be prepared on the road and prepare your route beforehand in detail, which I did, including knowing where tolls are and turn offs. I used regular maps and online maps. So about mid way through the trip, Martyn is looking at my maps as I drove and he says,

"This road does not exist."

Even though I had printed out the map and there it was right in front of us, it just was wrong, and our phone maps were showing another route, a very different route taking us further south in order to go north to the destination. So there we are in the middle of nowhere and I just sort of got this mini anxiety attack, imagining we would never get out of the mountains. All of a sudden the forest on both sides of us as we drove felt suffocating. I just wanted to be there and get the llama who was on a 6 hour drive in a cattle truck, complete with cattle. The temperature was lovely in mid coast but by the time we got to our pick up spot it was 90. No humidity thank goodness. We had been slated to meet the same driver two weeks ago, but it was the heatwave, and we just felt it was unfair to Lucy.

Anyway, we stopped to get gas and I went in and saw these two locals and told them about my map. They assured me that the way the phone map was telling us to go was right, not the map I'd pulled off the computer. They concurred that road did not exist.

We got in the car and I sang "We're on the road to nowhere...."

We did better on the way home but were irritable as the road signs were really pathetic and misleading, and we're not even morons. Martyn and I do not fight, but I can say that we were both getting grumpy. How we made it driving 6 days across the country and never getting into a fix I don't know. I was glad to get past all the "I'm-too'sexy-for-my-car-and-I'm-driving-90-to-get-to-my-beach-house crowd" in the Boston interchange. I am no wimp on the road but, Gad Zooks, what is wrong with people. We smirked as we saw the traffic going for miles to Boston and points south, back to back and we were causing along going east to Maine. I realized how I used to live in that sort of chaos. here was only one place I wanted to be, home.

To be honest, every time we stopped for gas, I was almost afraid to open the trailer door to check on Lucy. But she was fine.

We both decided that these 12 hour round trips are too much. We've been doing this since 2004. We used to drive up to the goat rescue and it was a 12 hour round trip too and it nearly killed us every time. I was fortunate to have some loyal followers at some point in the Seattle area and they would help us by meeting half way with old goats or even coming to Apifera. SO the next llama run...I think I will have to raise money for a haul.

Having said all that...if you told me there was a blind three legged pony that needing to be picked up 12 hours away...well....

Lucy is sweet. She is much calmer and more confidant than Luna. Not as herd bound. Luna meanwhile recognized Lucy, I do believe. Why wouldn't she? They lived together for some time and it has only been since April that Luna left the old farm. Arlo in the meantime is full of himself, and his testosterone. I dream of the day I can castrate. Meanwhile, I'm doing everything I can to train him and keep him learning that I'm the boss not him. He is living with Teapot and Teapot is still the boss, but there has been no drama. Eventually Arlo is slated to get a buddy.

I often talk to Birdie as I do cleanup near her gave in the equine area. I told her things are in flux. I told her I wish she were here. I recognize all this llama wrangling is not going to bring her back, nor are any of them going to be like Birdie. But I stand my mission-to bring old animals here for respite, and to share them with our elder friends. And I also stand by my continuing vision-to replenish our llama love room. The elder people LOVE the llamas, and if it takes some sweat and tears to get out llama love room hopping, so be it.

A loss, questions, a dream

It was a shock.

We had made plans to drive the 10 hour round trip to pick up the baby llama and her elder mom this weekend. On Wednesday I got a text that there was a setback, that Button was not well, and the vet had been there and certain regimes were in place to offset what it might have been. She was making improvements, but there were also odd signs that confounded the vet and farm.

And on Thursday night, she was found dead.

I was so excited to get her here and start learning her personality-which I was told was a little spitfire of love. The plan had been put in motion when we first picked out Arlo, and also old Luna. The baby female, who was being called Button by the farm because she was as cute as one, would be trained for therapy work along with Arlo. And the elder mother would be a companion for old Luna as she aged-Arlo has to be separated very soon from Luna since he can't be gelded for another year.

But back track...on Wednesday night, before I had heard the baby Button had taken ill, I had a dream. Birdie was in it, briefly, and had a baby white llama with her. {Button and her mom were both black]. When I awoke, I thought nothing of the dream except that it was so nice to see Birdie, as she had not come to me in a dream yet. Later that day I got a text that there had been a setback with Button, but it was not a dire thing at that point. The farm felt she was responding and was acting more normal. We all agreed transporting her was out of the question and we would wait a couple weeks to ensure her recovery was complete. I was disappointed, but was grateful it happened on their watch and not while in transport.

But today, when I got a voice message to call, I had a feeling it was not good. The farm is devastated and I feel so badly for them. Not knowing can really play with a farmer's head -I know because I've been there a million times and you can really kick yourself...llamas are also very exotic creatures and most vets really only have a handful of experiences on treating things.

This week at some point, before I even knew that Button was not well, I was cleaning the barn and when I was by Birdie's grave I told her, "I hope I picked the right little llama, Birdie."

I do feel Birdie came to me. Maybe the baby in my dream is out there and I will find her.

I talked to the farmer and we both agreed that little Button had a month of a wonderful life, running, frolicking, greeting the farmer-she said she was very sweet and loved helping with chores. I am grateful she could die there, on the land she knew. As short as her life was, it was spent the entire time with her mum, and she died right by her.

We will still bring home her elder mother, Lucy, sometime this month. She will not be a therapy llama, nor will Luna, they will be companions and live out their days-be it months or another few years. They are both 19+.

I have picked out another male llama for Arlo and he will be coming in the autumn. He will also be trained as a therapy llama. I still am going to keep my heart and eyes open for a white female. But Arlo will need a friend and the one I picked out is out of the same father as Arlo, but has a white face and is reddish, he is really sweet.

I don't know why this happened. I don't know why Birdie died. Is it all related, or chance. Is it a learning situation or is it simply the way it went? I do know that llamas are very unique and special, and they are still a part of the master love ambassador plan here at Apifera. But today, I grieve a little bit, for Button, and her farm who lost her.

We will Birdie On.

Arlo shines in the spotlight and a shift occurs

No words needed

Arlo has felt the power of love, of being touched. Yesterday we had a wonderful first therapy session of the summer season, and it was Arlo's first official group get together. He was a star! He behaved very well, and lasted about 30 minutes before getting itchy young llama syndrome, but I was really proud of him, and me I guess–all our work together paid off and we still have a lot to do together but he was very good. What was most wonderful is he enjoyed it, and gravitated to people, gave kisses, and wowed everyone with his long neck and soft wool.

It was a new group of elders and most of them were in walkers or wheelchairs, one woman was blind, some had difficulty speaking due to stroke [I assume], but even those people were able to communicate their joy around the animals. The group could not have been sweeter, and responsive to their outing-they were very happy to be there. They came all the way from Camden, which is up the coast about an hour. One of the women had grown up on a farm, and had a horse, which she had named "Pony" because she was only four years old, so she communed with Boone a lot. I was so pleased to have five volunteers, which made it possible for the first time to have Boone and Teapot in the paddock, then we brought Matilda and Paco into the orchard first. Matilda loves people and is usually very calm and special at these things, but she and the minis have become a bit herd bound so she was wondering why she was there alone, and she also liked the grass. So she did great, but I felt bad they didn't get a better sense of her true gifts. They loved her, and her deep eyes. They told her she was beautiful. Then I went and brought the little goats out, which was a hit because they all ran in and it was a fun scene for everyone. We brought Ollie out on a lead too, and he was very happy to partake. And then, I went and got Arlo.

I left Luna in the barn, since I knew it might distract him, and Luna is a real worrier. I could hear her humming the whole time. Argo came in and I let him stand and look at all the people and wheelchairs for a few minutes, and then he did his thing. One by one we visited each person, and he reached down to touch their faces. There were a couple times where I got verklempt, not only because it felt like Birdie was there, but also, I was just so proud of him. I have been training him not to lean into me, and he has been very good, but a few times he came to me for reassurance, and it was ok. He just did great.

Once again, I saw the power of how animals opening people up to share story–and how sharing story opens us all up to listening to others, learning and seeing our common grounds. By sharing story, the elders feel heard, and we all want to be heard.

At the end of the day I asked everyone if they had a favorite animal on the visit..."the llama".

I returned Arlo to the field with Luna, and let the donkeys out too. Arlo proceeded to chase everyone around, to the delight of the guests. He then went into a young male romp, rolling, head and neck twirls like llamas do, and the guests -all lined up in the chairs-sat watching, oohing and awing like we were at a parade with fireworks.

It was such perfect way to start his career. I told him so many times that night that I was proud of him. I also sensed that night when I went out to feed, that our relationship had shifted ever so slightly, like it does when you work with an animal as a team. I sensed he 'got it'.

And so, it begins.

Boone communed with a woman that had a horse as a child

They told Matilda she was beautiful

Arlo's career begins

I felt Birdie at any times

Ollie examines the oxygen cord as Opie looks on