"What if?"

White Dog in his healing area, looking sleepy from his sedation pills

The stitches are healing well. We went in last Friday to get the drip line out, and it looked good. I had told White Dog he'd get to be free in his pasture after that, but in my deleriuum on the day of the accident-I'm sure I was told this by the vet– I did not realize he had stitches on the inside too to sew up various muscles and such. It was that bad.

So...White Dog continues to reside in his healing area, and is still on sedation pills and other meds to help in his recovery. All is looking good though. We go in this week to get the outer stitches taken out and then he can go outside again.

I'm still so grateful we didn't lose him.

Life can change at the click of the second hand on the clock. If one dwells on that fact one might just stay in bed avoiding all possible despair or accidents awaiting all of us. The car accident, the plane crashing, falling down the stairs, falling through ice....it's all just one big world of accidents and it is also sitting around after aviding one and asking, "What if?" that can really freak a mind out.

So, on a calm day, sitting with White Dog, secure in is stall, unable to run and tear stitches, it feels safe, for both of us.

But I'll be happy to see him in his element again, and off the doping meds that make him look like a sad pup.

Back from the vet, Marcella was relieved to see White Dog again

She challenged me more than any animal I've known

The first day at Apifera

Six years ago, Marcella was born. She was born on a working sheep farm in Washington, out of working stock. Her farm owner and shepherd had a regional reputation as being knowledgeable and thorough with his Maremmas-he also travelled the region educating people about this unique breed, teaching them the unique training skills needed to work successfully with a Maremma. I am grateful we found him because I reached out to him many times in the early days.

We were in Oregon then, and we had a working flock of 30 sheep among other things. We were of course taking in needy elder/special needs animals, but we were not a non profit then. I had looked into a livestock guardian years before, but felt I wasn't ready for one. I'm glad I waited. I wasn't prepared to have a Maremma when we first moved to the farm. I had always had pets, not a working dog, and it is a different ball of wax.

Marcella was 8 weeks old when we brought her home. I got a pick of the litter, and I knew immediately she was the one, by her presence and demeanor in the litter that day. That first night, I put her in a stall in the barn, where she could see sheep and goats through her gate. The shepherd/breeder told me that if a Maremma wants to get on the other side of a gate, it will. The second morning when I arrived at the barn, she was frolicking out in the Northwest rain and mud, happy as a clam. Marcella loved rain and mud from her first days, and still does. White Dog on the other hand is not as fond of rain and mud and is rarely muddy, but Mar will come in at night covered, happy. The shepherd/breeder also told me that the next day they are always pure white again...and he was right.

I had been given mental lessons in how to work with Marcella...don't baby her, don't hold her and squeeze her because you are going to want to because she is so damn cute...don't look down to her but show her boundaries right away. She will outsmart you if she needs to or feels threatened...that is her job, I was told. Her food is hers, you will find that out. And if she needs work done on her body-toenail trimming, wounds-they do not like to be worked on, which can prove challenging for many reasons....the latter is also true. Maremmas are prone to not obey commands like a trained pet, calling a Maremma is not usually going to get them to come-that is after all a survival technique for a guard and it is bred into them for a reason.

It took me a year or so to really understand her ways, and what my reactions should be or shouldn't be. For example, I always fed her in the hay room, so she could be away from all animals. She was incredibly territorial with her food, to the point she'd take an animal to the ground if they provoked her around food. The shepherd/breeder told me to never try to work this out of her, simply give her a space to eat alone. Well, one day, I can't remember what the reason was, but she was eating, and I approached too close to grab something, and she latched onto my hand, sinking her teeth in...I was calm, but it hurt like hell, but I knew if I pulled my hand away she'd sink in deeper and rip me up. I waited, I did not speak, and I relaxed the tension in my hand to show her she had won, and she released. But then I thought that I really should correct her. This was not acceptable. I took a rake and hit her on the back, she grabbed it and fought it hard. I left her alone. I called my mentor shepherd/breeder and told him what had happened. He said that one should never hit a Maremma, because it is perceived as a challenge. He said he might have done the same though, depending on the age of the dog and situation. He told me to work on establishing a better boundary, and I did.

And that is the challenge I relented to. There is no reason to challenge her, she knows her job, and I had to learn to let her do it her way.

At this stage in our relationship, Marcella does not growl around her food anymore, she knows if I walk by it is to do other things and she trusts me now, and I trust her. But I'd never take her dish away, and there is no reason too. Working on her body if she has a wound, or mats in her heavy coat in spring mud season, is a 100-step process. But compared to our early years, we work it out. Recently, Marcella slipped through a slider gate in the garden where she had gotten out because a latch was not secure. She was out front near the busy road and my heart sunk when I saw her. I started yelling to her, more in a panic, as I saw her eyeing the road and she knew two dogs were over there. She looked at me, and at the road. Then I snapped out of it, went into a submissive pose [kneeled down, averted my eyes] and I said her name softly, like I do during chores. She came over with her head down, and all was well. I thought how five years ago I would not have known to do that.

A lot of this is her maturing too, and having worked daily with me for years. But I like to think we have a bond now too. I know we do. Every night, she helps me bring the ducks in and she sleeps with them. It is then, for seconds, I look in her eyes, something I do with all my dogs. I tell her it was a good day and thank her. She might not be guarding a flock of sheep, but she still has a job, watching for eagles and other intruders. She is much more outspoken here, because her area is smaller than before. When we have elder visits, I put her in a stall because she just wants to know that these people aren't there to hurt her charges. White Dog on the other hand partakes.

She is by far the smartest dog I've ever known.  Learning to speak Marcella, and let go of pet-thinking, let go of 'this is want I want' is part of working with this breed. One day out West, she was particularly active in the barnyard. I wanted her to come into the barn so I could move hay. Later that day, we realized that Wilbur had been scratched up by a predator, and we noticed blood and marks on both White Dogs. We analyzed the placement and width of the claw marks on Wilbur and surmised it had been a young bobcat-we had one in the barnyard some weeks earlier, a small one. The marks showed us that Wilbur had been on his back while being clawed once. It was probably a young cat, but the dogs did their job, and she was just making sure it wasn't around.

She is also an excellent ratter.

She always crosses her legs

Teapot collects trash, Opie's beard is growing and mud season is here

The Teapot did her first Earth Day walk.

Opie is very proud about his little goatee

Mud season is upon us and you can see who loves that

Still breathing in fog...and Grace carries on

{My friends sent this beautiful poem to me after Birdie died. I have read it over and over, and it could not express better what I feel right now}

"Pavement Ends"

At last the pavement ends.

Now if I lose your scent

I can follow your footprints.

You're still breathing in the fog,

your lungs ghostly and delicate

like white lilacs.

I don't care how many or what kind

have walked here, or run.

I only care about you,

your tracks fresh and firm,

as though you're nearly within reach.

Don't let me slow you down.

I will find you.

~Connie Wanek~

We continue to miss Birdie, but the warm weather helps remind us that the earth is percolating with new births. My Grace and I are exploring the place and creatures she feels most attracted to living with now that her white goddess is gone. I have been placing her in different paddocks to watch her. She is a bit lost, and it dawned on me that perhaps her new charge has not yet arrived at Apifera...more mysteries then for her and me to come, I guess.We still are wondering if My Grace is in fact, My Lord, since she-he has not laid an egg yet. It might explain a few things.

Cover me up under the white

Marcella

We had another snow fall of about six inches. It covers the ice so it helps somewhat. To be honest, I'm feeling a bit numb these days. Working Birdie through this horrible ordeal is hard emotionally, for her too. I will report later on how that is all going. I could feel the weight of the new snow as I lay in bed this morning, it is a fact that the sound changes all around. The sound of the snow sounds different depending on how much snow there is. I didn't care if we had one inch or ten.

Yesterday I spent a lot of quiet time with Marcella and Benne, aka White Dog. I guess they are my healer animals, my spirit animals. The white animals that have come into my life...they all have very strong spirits–the goose, Noritsu, White Dog, Marcella, and Birdie. Every animal is special and unique and has lessons, just like people, but some of us are born to be teachers, or artists, writers, thinkers, do-ers or doctors. I don't put myself on the same level as my my healer and spiritual guide I've known for about 30 years and still consult when I need too, but I know I have certain innate abilities others might not have nurtured in themselves. I think we all had it before birth. Maybe some of us are meant not to hone it in this life, and some of us are. Maybe its just that some people are enchanted by it and others aren't. I come from a family of scientists, artists and farmers...I think that combination is pretty much at play in my life since moving to the farm.

I do know that I needed to especially be with Marcella yesterday. I sat with her when night chores were done. The pigs kept coming over and wanted to be scratched, but Marcella pushed them away to be closer to me. She understood immediately what I needed from her, to just be acknowledged for what I was feeling at that moment. I thanked her, and went inside.

Marcella

White Dog by M'Lady Apple

Bust out! Shark like pig escapes and takes dog with her

I was minding my own business early this morning, brushing my teeth, admiring the 100 year old hydrangea tree outside the bathroom window when I saw...Marcella. If you know our layout, this is not suppose to happen.

I pulled on the Mucks and headed out and she greeted me at the garden gate-that is also not suppose to happen.

The front slider gate was open, but as I gathered her into the barn, I still didn't know how she got out, since her area with he pigs is far away. I wandered out to the paddock she and the three pigs live in-Eleanor was gone, Cornelia and Little Lonely aka Freddy were there. And then I saw where one of them busted down a part of the wood fence, two pallets of wood toppled over. I had no time to assess that, my head was full of images of her on the front road. She had so much to eat out back I started calling and looking there but it was silent and she usually responds. She wouldn't go through the stream, I figured, so I headed out front which is the front garden, and the dreaded road. Nothing. No grunts. No alarming barks from White Dog. I decided to keep feeding and calling her as I did.

And then I heard a far off snort. She had reappeared out front, and I went out with grain and she ran all the way across the yard to me. Eleanor is about 350 pounds, and of all the pigs, the least personable. She is not mean or unfriendly, but she is...a pig of her own desires. I call her The Great White Shark begins she swims the area looking for her next meal. But I was pleased she came, and I got her back in another paddock, so now I can try to remaster the place they busted out.

I had just put Marcella in another area yesterday, with the three pigs, to give her more of a job. She was bored in the smaller Earnest area, and was starting to overboard him, and me. I initially blamed her in my mind, that she started it, and Eleanor followed. But I think Eleanor due to her size and strength-she is about 350#- was snorting around that part of the fence, digging mud, or rubbing her big l' butt, and she snapped the side of the pallet where it was attached.

I talked to Marcella about it. She looked at me with those huge brown eyes, then lay flat on the ground, showing her submissiveness to me. Instead of looking at it as a bad morning, I told her it was a good morning, because so many things that could have gone wrong didn't-Eleanor came back, Eleanor didn't head for the road, Marcella didn't get hit by a car, I got up at 7am and just happened to be brushing my teeth at that exact moment when she walked by since I usually dwaddle in the morning for breakfast...and the breach at the fence is refillable and it will be okay.

In fact, she really did what she was supposed to do, go with Eleanor.

In which we survive a lightening strike

Taken the early evening, right before the storm hit

I thought it was odd that yesterday morning when I went to the front barn to start feedings, the stall where Earnest and the White Dogs sleep was...sort of in disarray. I couldn't put my finger on it, but Marcella was also muddy and wet which was suspect. But I went about my chores, and then returned to the studio to work.

The night before, we had one heck of a lightening storm about 7 PM. I was really scared. The strikes were very close, it felt like it was right in the back yard. We have 30 acres of woods behind us, and there are many properties with the same. We are near the coast, not on the water ourselves but the properties across the front road are, and we see the cove. The humidity and heat coupled with our setting by the sea made for a perfect lightening storm.

Martyn was cooking dinner and I was on couch [as it should be] with Muddy when it all began. Now I love a good storm, but ever since I lived through a straight line wind storm in Minneapolis in my then little house, and went outside to see the devastation after 20 minutes, I have been very anxious in storms. And I grew up with tornadoes. So when the strikes started hitting all around the area, and they were close, I was really...well, squealing. Poor Muddy knew something was a foul and he started shaking since his fearless leader, me, was not so fearless.

The strikes just kept hitting nearby, and then, POPPOPOPOP! and it sounded like it was in the house, and we saw a flash. I lifted my feet off the ground [like that would have helped] and was terrified. Nothing turned off, no circuits had popped, we could not figure out where it had hit, but it hit somewhere on the house or close.

Within about 15 minutes the storm passed after torrential down pours and we heard the thunder leaving. But the mystery of what happened had us perplexed.

Now let's make it clear that we have grounding rods. We also have one out by the new barn. We thought maybe it struck at the copper top chimney. But we couldn't figure it out, which was unsettling.

So, back to yesterday, the day after the storm. When I did night feedings, I noticed it–The electric fence box is attached to the barn wall and it feeds the electric wire that sits atop the pasture fence on the property. We use a top wire to prevent the equines from reaching over the fence for grass on the other side-without it, they destroy the fences, and worse, can get themselves in trouble quickly by getting ensnared in fence. And yes, I've witnessed it many a time, including two weeks ago when Boone got his shoe caught this way because the wire had been turned off while we worked on the new barn. While getting him out of the fence, something happened, I still don't know what, but he reared back -even though he had been standing calmly for me for many minutes while I retrieved a wire clipper–and started cutting the fence around his shoe. I went backwards on my butt but first hit the back of my head very hard, not good after having had a serious concussion a year ago. We both were ok, but not having a hot wire really creates dangerous situations, and it protects your fence.

That electric box was right outside the stall where the dogs and Earnest were taking cover from the storm. The sound must have been really loud, judging by how loud it was in the house. I'm sure now that Marcella was super worried and probably went out in the storm at some point to figure out what was happening. Fortunately, the wire there is wrapped, so there was no fire danger per se, but it did make me very upset, and relieved that nothing worse took place.

We are going to look at getting lightening rods for the barns, but it still could have happened. The lightening came down -we surmise-close to where the box was, hit the top electric wire, went zooming back to the box, and bam, blew it to bits. Electricity is so strong, it is hard to fathom it. I'm so grateful nobody was outside in that paddock.

Earnest the pig photobombs dinner

Every night when hay is served, Marcella lies down in it, with the goats gathered around her. Last night, they were photobombed by Earnest.

We love it, we lay in it, we walk in it, we do not complain, we live

Today we awoke to another Dorothy-enters-a-winter version-of-OZ, the 12" of snow from last night's Nor'easter blanketed the land and encased the fences and trees. But White Dog was there to simply be what he is every day, White Dog. And Marcella joined in.

A day with snow is a day without flies, that is our motto in Maine. It is a beautiful snow, a bit heavy, but there is no more wind today and it's still coming down.

It is hard to resist taking any photo of something snow covered. So enjoy these photos. I hope you can feel the silence of the earth below the sound of the snow...and the contentment of two White Dogs.

Awakening to quiet beauty

Awaking to morning after there has been considerable snow at night is always a magical experience for me, perhaps it takes me back to childhood, when a new snow meant no school, sledding and baking cookies.

It was a heavy snow of about six inches, caking the branches of every tree. And the sky color this early morning was very intense blue. It will be gone soon as its warm, and fifties are forecast for next week, so I will relish in it today.

There is a sound to the snow. But it also leaves a blanket on the interference of the noises of the human world going by the front of the farm. As much as spring and gardening and all the joys that come with warmer seasons, I do love winter for giving me quiet and less intrusion.

Daily love fest

Their wool coats keep them warm

All is well after we got some more snow, temperatures are rising and I swear I smelled some spring in the air. A girl can dream. Here are some faces you've come to know in love, spending their days as they should, true to their own souls. And the new elder goats have been named! Girl George for the hermaphrodite, Frieda [which means 'elf strength] and Else-they are all wonderful goats, I love them.

Hilde on the left and Friede on the right

Hughie never tires of sun naps

And the White Dogs get their weekly wolf play date

"You're a girl," said Moose

Sophie is our only female goat...at least until yesterday's new elder arrivals. Three new females now call themselves misfits, and it got the boys jazzed up. Of all of them, Moose was the most enthralled. Even though he was neutered early as a kid, Moose still seems to want everyone to know he is all male in his mind and heart. He runs around wagging his tongue a sign of foreplay to a goat, and so he was quite pleased that I finally brought home female Misfits.

I let the new arrivals sleep with Tripod last night and let Opie have a slumber party with the big boys last night. All went fine. But this morning I made further introductions, letting the as -of-yet-unanamed elders hang out with Moose, Goose, Wilbur, Earnest and Marcella. Marcella is very protective of her herd, so I introduced her to the arrivals first, which is how to work with a Maremma. I sat down with her, and petted the new goats letting Marcella sniff and see that I considered them allies, not threats.

I felt confidant all was well and left the stall and a few minutes later peeked over to check on everybody and caught this photo. Moose was clearly in deep conversation with the new elder arrival.

"You're a....girl," he said.

"Yes, I would think so, sort of, I'm a hermaphrodite to be concise," she said. "But don't think anything of it."

"You are beautiful like a cup of coco," Moose said.

"So are you," she said back.

"May I flap my tongue on you," Moose asked.

"Good heavens, no," she said.

Marcella watched the entire conversation making sure no harm was done.

Eventually the old girl turned away. She likes to stick her tongue out.

"You have a lovely tongue," said Moose.

It might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship....or not. We will see, it's up to them of course.

We're frosty but all is well

Earnest just getting up with bed head

It has been a tad chilly. Okay, it's darn cold.

#$#$&&?!! cold.

All is well. We are not as bad off as upstate North Dakota where my cousin lives where temps have been around 25 below. We have had more like 10 below at night which is a huge difference when it comes to the water buckets.And tomorrow we will have a literal warm up to 25 for a couple of days. One more weekend of 0's and then next week looks more reasonable.

The air is invigorating. My cousin and I were talking about that-that we grew up in cold climates and know how to deal with it. For starters, you wear a hat. I can't tell you how many people I see running around without a hat when it's 10 below. Good grief. Forget about your hair, mate, keep some heat in your head.

The feeling of breathing in on an extremely cold day is one I actually like. It's almost like an instant detox. It could also take your breath away if it is extremely cold and certain people do have to be careful. But there is an invigoration that happens to the body when doing barn chores in this cold. If my hands can stay semi warm, I'm content.

There are also pain in the butt moments-like when your cloves get a tish of water on them from filling buckets and then they stick to the metal gates. The water buckets are the main chore, but also the poop freezes. This is not a big deal in most areas of the farm but in the equine area it is because the poop is big and it is hard for the equines to step on it. Especially Boone who is flat footed. So I like it when it warms up to at least 5 below because I can still get the poop up.

And shall I mention that taking a pee in the barn -which I do often since I can't seem to go more than 40 minutes without a break-has an entirely new meaning on these extreme cold days. Oh my!

The animals are much more stoic about all this. But one has to know their animals, and watch for signs of trouble. Getting water in them is essential, so water has to replenished more in the cold. I was worried about Sophie at one point so brought her into front barn, and she is just fine. I haven't lost a chicken but I never have to cold and they have a good place in the barn were I also lined one section with old sheep sheerings-they like that. They are still laying, about three eggs a day, but I often get there and the eggs have cracked-which means Earnest gets a treat.

Speaking of dear Earnest, today when I got to the barn early, I caught this photo of him just getting out of bed. It cracks me up. What a goofball. I love that pig. Earnest sleeps under his straw bedding and gets up with bed head.

I do have lots of good news to share. Stay tuned....

Marcella, we could not do it without you

She is one of the most challenging creatures I've worked in partnership with. We had some rough spots in her first year. Maremmas are not like a pet dog, and if you try to treat them like one...well, good luck, and it would also be a disservice to them. They were bred to be livestock companions and guards and while they certainly have many loyal dog like behaviors, they set their own boundaries when on their turf. While Benedetto is much more of a field periphery walker, Marcella sticks with her charges. I have found in Maine that Benne is much better with the sheep, and Marcella's job is with the front barn of small goats.

Marcella came to us as a pup. We got her from a sheep farm that had been raising them as working dogs for years. He knew his stuff and I learned a lot before I purchased her. I will tell you that we looked at getting one when we first arrived at the old farm in Oregon and had our first sheep. But I wasn't ready. I had come from having dogs my entire life but they lived inside at night and were with me during the day. I talked to a lot of experienced Maremma people, and I just knew I wasn't ready, and I didn't want to muck up a good dog.

I'm really glad we waited. But I'm also glad we brought her home. She is a valuable part of our farm. Now in Maine, Marcella lives in the front barn near the house, with some smaller Misfits, and Earnest. She has an important job of keeping them all in check, and she also keeps the rats at bay, and the eagles that float around looking for chickens and rodents. Ever since an eagle took one of our ducks out west, both Marcella and Benedetto go crazy when hawks and eagles fly, and they watch those birds until they are gone.

Most of the challenges I had with Marcella were in her first year and a half. Some of it was my fear of letting her be her-the breeder had told me if she felt she needed to be some place and it meant going under a fence, she'd find a way. She proved that on her second night, coming out under a gate from her barn stall where I bedded her those first nights. There were also simple issues of feeding-you do not get near her food-in any way-and in her first year I had a serious wound from her, and she would not back off. I sat patiently waiting her to release her grip, knowing if I moved my hand it would rip it open. Treating a wound on a Maremma can also be difficult, or trimming nails. As she has matured certain things are easier, but she is always going to be a Maremma.

Now I understand her much better. If I'm in the stall with her and the goats, her charges, she wants attention, but I also know there are some kinds of attention she might see as a threat.

I always tell people, if you came to our farm and Benedetto was at the fence, you might get away with petting him, but that would not happen with Marcella. If someone comes into the barn with me, she is up at at them at her stall. I have to take the person in [and only do with certain people] and we act normally and let her examine the person.

She is a beautiful creature too. She consistently crosses her legs - a dog version of Grace Kelly, I always think.

Happy birthday, Marcella, you are one of a kind, and a good partner. Thank you for teaching me how to treat you.

My farm is uneven and I'll live with that

One thing that attracts me to this photo is the background. If you were to paint this or draw it, there is an entire painting of shapes and tones back there. I like the way it shows the unevenness of a farm, the hodgepodge of fencing and posts and sheds that have been added over time without a real master plan. A lot of creating a barnyard is like that, at least for us. You get the big picture where the barn needs to be, and initial paddocks, and then along comes a new pig or creature that forces you to add another paddock or shift some fencing.

It never ends, the fluctuation of fencing and background material. It's a wonderful way to live though, keeps one from getting bored, keeps you moving, makes you bend at the knees and get those glute muscles oiled.

"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.

Light on Pig and Pup, squeals and understanding

Back when Marcella first arrived as an eight week old pup, she took a shine to the newly arrived piglet, Earnest. Many of you enjoyed those early months of Pig and Pup, going everywhere together, whether the pig wanted the pup by his side or not. He put up with so much from that pup. It was charming and funny, over and over.

Their relationship remains strong but has evolved like all relationships do. Right now they are both going on four and I would say they are in their early 'let's get our boundaries rehearsed' stage as far as behavior. Earnest could kill Marcella if he really wanted to with his tusks and strength. She could also do some damage on him if she felt she needed to. When I feed Marcella in the morning, I also feed some of the goats, and Earnest, away from Marcella. The game for Marcella is to eat her dog food as fast as she can so she can then go to Earnest's food, and Earnest's game is to eat as fast as he can so he can steal goat food. The three goats in that paddock-Moose, Goose and Wilbur eat as fast as they can so they can go out to the grazing area and leave the grown Pig and Pup sideshow. By the time I've left that barn to go out and feed equines, Benedetto, grumpy pig and sheep, I usually hear the screams of Earnest and barks of Marcella. To the passing stranger, this might sound scary and severe-but it is not. People need to live with animals to understand their language. Pigs scream, often, they have a very big vocabulary of screams that can mean anything from

"I'm scared, or I'm dying, to I have my head stuck in a fence. They also have various levels of grunts and squeals to equate joy, happiness, or 'get out of my way that's my food dish". When Earnest screams in the morning, I know he is telling Marcella to bud out, and he is usually saying it as he runs from her–for Marcella is still and will always be, I suspect, the alpha.

But then later in the day I go to visit, and there they are, together, bathed in afternoon light, quiet and content. I sit down to give Earnest belly rubs, and over comes Marcella, she always comes to me in the barns and paddocks. There is a bit of,

"Pet me first," from her, but not in an aggressive way. Since she came to me as a pup, we have a strong relationship and understanding of accepted and non accepted behavior. She challenged me a lot in the first couple years but has matured, and I have to say, as a caretaker of a Maremma, so have I. I respect that dog like no other I've had-for her ability to cause me harm, but also her ability to sense danger and when something isn't 'quite right.'

I love seeing them in light from the heavens.

Faces as medicine

I'm on day 6 or 7 of this horrible cold, working it's way slowly out of me. I made a note to myself,

When sick, do not try to outstay the llama.

I'm lucky to have so many faces that look to see me each morning. It gives one a reason to get up even when your head hurts and takes your mind off your own pain.

How can I not feel better for a moment looking at these faces?

Morning communion with Marcella

When I do my morning chores in winter, I make it a goal to commune with the animals, usually picking out one or two that day and just sitting with them quietly. Often no words are spoken, that is my language, but we have our other language we speak-or at least we learn to interpret. I think the animals are far superior to that interpreting than we humans, but I truly believe we as people can hone our lost sills as communicators with creatures. We used to speak this way in earnest, and with grunts that each had a different meaning I assume. Just like the pigs-they have so many variations of a squeal and a grunt. I should start recording them.

This morning I sat with Marcella while the goats ate. Marcella is a glutton for this. She is not 'soft' either-meaning she has not turned into a marshmallow guard dog as we used to hear of when we researched guard breeds. Marcella has adapted to the new place as stoically and enthusiastically as I expected. Her area is smaller now, and often at night she is in the goat barn where as Benedetto is always free to go to the fields to patrol, but he lives in the field barn, and Marcella lives in the front barn.

Marcella takes her guarding here as seriously as she did in Oregon. She recognizes the front road and traffic that might be 'unusual'. She knows the nearby neighbors but will still alert them she is here. But mainly, she has taken to guarding her charges from birds, and squirrels, and eagles. She witnessed a duck killing of a chicken in Oregon, and from that day on both she and Benedetto will chase birds in the high up sky and alert us there are flying predators. I doubt a squirrel will do much harm, but I appreciate that she has that covered. She also has kept the rats away, at least out of sight. They had easy living when we arrived, but things changed for them with Marcella. I often find small holes dug into the stall bedding, going about 6" down. I'm sure she's tracking rats under the barn.

Now two days ago, we saw a beautiful little black mink by the bird feeder, which sits outside the kitchen and is not part of the barn. As beautiful as he was, I worried he might be on to the chicken coop even though they are penned up, he could get in if he really wanted too.

I told Marcella about him.

"What am I saying," I told her today, "I'm sure you knew all about that mink."

She is strong and independent, in command of her domain. Her success has nothing to do with beauty but is from her genetic makeup and willingness and desire to be useful in her breed's capacity. But her beauty is apparent, and watching her guard, or take charge, I have to admit her looks enhance the experience for me. She understands our relationship–something we both have had to work towards.

Her eyes still mesmerize me.

Song for Moose and Paco will officiate the funeral

I wanted to let you all know, tomorrow there will be a private funeral service for The Head Troll, officiated by Paco, who asked to lead the service. This is a big deal for Paco-he arrived at Apifera without any confidence, but gained it through love and experience. Paco and The Head Troll both came from new Hampshire, arrived in Oregon and I adopted them, so it is also fitting he lead the send off. I know at feedings this morning he was in a corner, working on poems. He doesn't have a special writing spot here, yet, I hope to make him one this summer. So check back tomorrow. I have been asked to write about the service, but there will be no photography allowed.

While there has been much loss of late, there is still much life, and the percolations both under the ground and in my new life here are everywhere.

Yesterday I turned 59, and Moose turned 4. I didn't too well on a lavish party for Moose, but it's pretty easy to please these guys on birthday parties if there is any kind of food involved. As you can see from the movie, chewing demonstrates content party goers. Later that night I made myself a old family recipe of white cake with chocolate frosting-a classic sturdy cake my mother used to make. We had wine and good stuff, and slept well after a hard week.

I went to a sheep farm yesterday to meet a fellow shepherd from Hatchtown Farm, but this one really knows her fiber. She is very good at sharing her knowledge on many levels and next weekend she invited me to go with her to help at another farm's annual sheering day. I'm really excited. I really want to make something of my fiber and am also thinking of getting some Coopworth, which she has, a longer fiber breed, versus our CVM's which are a fine fiber breed. I think I can handle a few more sheep but need to really focus on good management to get as most out of my girls as possible. I am a nice at wool sheep, so have so much to learn. By the way, she sells her fiber and it is gorgeous!

Anyway, so many people contacted me about The Head Troll, and my birthday and it was very kind and helpful. I am fine, The Head Troll was aware of the shifts happening in Apifera, and with me, I know this, I really do. It was very like her to...give some more room for the new life we are creating here, and it was her time.

A post shared by Katherine Dunn / Apifera Farm (@katherinedunnapiferafarm) on Mar 10, 2017 at 1:25pm PST