Aldo is gone leaving me to do my best

For the first time in eleven years at Apifera, I had to break a covenant I have with myself and the animals. Even though I did the right thing for this particular event, I am haunted by what I had to do and think I will be for some time.

It was early morning, and Martyn had just driven down the drive. I heard the gravel under his tires as usual, and the sound of the gate squeaking as he left. It was a beautiful Monday morning, puffy clouds, blue sky, and cool air. The dogs barked, and a car came back up the drive-Martyn often returns to the house multiple times, forgetting his coffee or other essentials for his day. I noticed his coffee mug on the counter and grabbed it for him, as the front door opened and he looked right at me and said,

"Aldo is dead. He's up in the field."

I was stunned. He went on, giving me the essential details I needed to hear to face what had to be done. I have questioned how much of these details to share here. Some of you come here for stories and photos of the farm and the animals. While I know you understand what death is, I know that doesn't necessarily mean you want to see it in detail here. But I need to write about this-for me, and Aldo. I will say one thing upfront, Aldo did not suffer. And if you are patient, and read until the end, I think you will be left with a beautiful image-an image of Nature returning to Nature.

Martyn went on, "The vultures are there. His face is already gone and the yellow jackets have covered his face."

All of this was problematic to getting the body off the hill. I've never had to deal with vultures before, or a large body on an upper hill, or yellow jackets in a carcass. I had just moved the flock to another field, and had left Aldo and his buddy to be in the lower hills. They like it there and had just spent the last couple months with the flock. I so loved seeing his tall white neck and head poking up out of the tall grass like a periscope. I had planned on bringing the two llamas back to the flock today.

I had to think fast though. We've had a stray coyote lurking and I did not want Aldo's body there. If the vultures knew about it, so did the coyote. Martyn could not help me with his work schedule jammed pack this time of year. I was on my own. I told him I was going to try to get my friend over with her 4wheeler. She is an experienced shepherd and has horses and llamas and is one to go to for practical needs. If she couldn't help, my other plan was to hook Boone up and drag him down to a safer field.

Fortunately, my friend dropped her plans to come help me. I was able to climb the hill and spray his head-which was a skeleton- to help kill the wasps. I didn't get stung, a miracle in and of itself. We had to drag his body down the hill and then....I had to make a decision on the spot about what to do with the body. My covenant with the myself and the animals is if you live here and are cared for by me, you will die here.You will return to Nature here.

But this particular situation with its own specific conditions was in conflict with my covenant. There are various ways to dispose of a body. I'm not going to go into that detail here. What is important to this story is that I thought of each one, quickly, and made my decision, quickly. The vultures stayed above us as we talked.

I had to do something that was very difficult and upsetting for me. I had to witness and partake with my own hands in something that was required of, to deal with the decaying body. I hope I never have to do it again, but it was my best choice of the moment-for the farm and for the safety of the other animals. Aldo was gone, I was doing the best I could for him even in death.

But now I want to tell you something that I hope will leave you with a beautiful image in your mind. It is the image I will hold onto. Just a couple weeks ago I gave Aldo what would be his final haircut. I trimmed his feet, and gave him his annual shot and wormer. Aldo is very unlike Birdie, the latter being a love machine. Aldo is dignified and more llama like-independent and cautious. He was not one to do a lot of llama love like Birdie. He liked to have his necked rubbed, but didn't come up asking for it. So when I gave him his haircut, I was pleased that he kept laying his head on my shoulder, and I rubbed his eyes which many animals love. He seemed to really like that, and we spent many minutes doing this, off and on, as I trimmed him. I took note of this, and even said, something like,  

You are really enjoying your eye rubs, aren't you?

I realize now that was our farewell. Perhaps he knew then what we all know now. Or perhaps it was by chance I gave him his haircut that particular day so I was given that moment with him, to have a final haircut, a trim, and some eyeball massages. That was a gift for me.

Aldo was old. When he arrived, I was warned by my vet not to expect him to live much longer. She also told me that llamas tend to just....die. No drama, no lingering illness, just one day they are dead.

When I found his body, it was not Aldo anymore. His spirit had soared long before.

"I'm just so glad you got your haircut and toes trimmed," I the empty body. I was unable to mourn over him like I can with most of the deaths here. It was difficult. The ground under me did not feel the same for those moments on the hill.

Aldo died on a beautiful cool evening. We had some rain yesterday, it was in the seventies. I imagine he just lay down and went to sleep. There was no sign of distress on his body, or in the surrounding ground. He died under the sky, having spent his final day with his flock. To die outside in your element, with sky and ground engulfing you, and winged creatures caring for your body- it is okay.

When I first went to his body before my friend came, I looked for the new young male llama. He is on his third name now and I hope it sticks, Wild Otis. Otis began to come over to the body when he saw me. I took these images with my phone. Then I stood embracing my final moments with what was once The Great White. There was a puffy cloud above and the sky was just beautiful. Aldo had such sweet white ears, and puffy white hair on top of his head. They used to stand before me and blow in the wind, just like that cloud was doing now. The vultures were above me and I could hear their wings as they flew all around me overhead about twenty feet. And their shadows...their shadows flew all around me on the golden burned out field. I will remember that scene.

I will miss The Great White. But mostly, I know his spirit was not in that body when I found it. I was honored to have a relationship with him this time around. I just feel very sad today, even though he had a good long life.

Mr. Haircut is back

We have a new ritual. Every year, since last, Aldo the Elder becomes Mr. Haircut. This lasts one week from his summer sheering. It is so startling, I'm sure for him too, to see him go from heavy, burdensome fiber dripping off his limbs and back, to a sheered bunny coat, that I can't help but call him "Mr. Haircut" for a short period until we all adjust. I give a horrible haircut, choppy and rough, but the end result is the same as a good sheer-comfort for the beast.

"Perhaps a professional barber would be appropriate," he suggests politely.

Considering I haven't invested in sheering clippers yet, perhaps he's right. But I enjoy it actually. And any kind of grooming with the animals is also trust building. Last year it took forever to give Aldo, er, Mr. Haircut his sheer due to my inexperience. You learn to let the wool lift off the skin, and take your scissor under it, cutting, in large pieces–versus just little snips. He didn't sit down once, and it was only toward the end where he threatened a cow kick as I tried to work on the final lower hind leg.

"Suit yourself, you can keep those too wool lumps by your ankle," I said.

I also was amused at the many natural items I found within his wool coat as I clipped away–acorns, long stems and a pebble.

"Your like a walking suitcase," I told him.

I'm behind on the sheering and I apologized to him for that. The two week heat wave has me behind on many things as I am incapable of working outside in it. My redhead skin just boils and I get physically ill. So I finally am getting caught up with the llamas and now have to do Wendell, who used to be Ollie Ollie Oxen Free but he is now Wendell. He just wasn't an Ollie Ollie. He actually reminds me a lot of Gomez or Cousin It. Anyway, he is next and his beautiful black tresses will become part of some of my raggedy creature dolls.

Snapshot moments

Back at the fly ranch

Aldo the Elder shows us how his lip skills come in handy.

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Inspired by old llama ears in the wind

The ears of the elder llama are captivating. They are shaped ever so slightly different than a donkey, and are more like a bunny mixed with a goat. As I reread that I realize that is inaccurate-they are completely unique in the animal world.

Aldo sits in the fields and his ears are there to to hear, but they take little dance steps with the wind, or twitch off a fly landing on their surface.

I was thinking about the wind, how many things it does. Selfishly, it feels really good on a hot day but that same day it might be fanning a forest fire. But it carries seeds about the field and blows earth around to help reestablish some areas and erode another. I guess it is just like us, yin mixed with yang.

I sure do like the way it looks floating in and out of Aldo's ears though.

I don't know about you, but I'm astounded

Within each day, there are mundane tasks, where I, like many of you, shuffle along lost in thoughts and lists of things to do and dreams of the day's end when a meal and glass of wine await. But I don't think a day goes by when I feel moments of astonishment - so much all around me, right on this little piece of Earth-so many textures, smells, beauty. It's all so darn amazing sometimes–no all the time.

The old llama is as exotic as a sea creature, really, his ears popping out of greens. And this year's return of The Gods of the Garden-the Globe Thistles–is spectacular, especially with the surround fennel embracing them.

Summer percolations and The Great White

Yesterday I insisted with myself,

"You have to try."

So in the hot afternoon I took to the cooler studio and sat down to sketch. I have been wanting to do some things of Aldo and Marcella. I felt wobbly, but was pleasantly surprised at the outcome. I know many artists–including well known ones I've read of–who take breaks for various reasons, and wonder if they can still paint or draw. I felt this way of late. Summer is never my most prolific painting time, never was, never will be. This is one time I can say "never". I'm like any creature-I lay a bit lower in summer, closer to the earth. It's warm, sometimes hot-best to walk slower and head for shade, save up energy for the burst of autumn's cool. Summer is a great time for resting and pondering for me-I have a couple big projects I'm excitedly percolating with-which I will share if and when they are more concrete.

I really love to write, and photograph. I was wondering if my muses have simply shifted in the dance line. I am not afraid of it. I think I will always paint, but it will not be in the same outpouring of product as in my younger days-back when I numbered everything and had a long list of paintings each year. And I don't fear that my production schedule has decreased. Quantity doesn't matter. I need to make a living, but my living is made up of so many facets-word and art in books,story,animal care taking and writing about it, farming...and art.

I am very graced to have ended up this way, and still able to make a living. I'm lucky to have found a mate who loves his work too, and can also collaborate with me on the farm in my passion for the animal work I do. When I go for my morning walk with the dogs and we get to the top part of the hills 2 miles away, I always stop and breathe, and look–and sometimes I say,

"Keep it coming. Thank you."

It was nice having an image of Aldo that I felt captured him. I will do more sooner or later.

Today is another 95 degree day. Heading for shade.

When the old man needs a haircut

Working alone with a creature, or nature, allows you to go back into your own memory. It gives you quiet space to percolate, dream, grieve, love, laugh...remember.

All around the world, women patiently give their their old men haircuts. My mother did it for my father in his final years. I've always cut The Dirt Farmer's locks and am sure I'll do it until I can't-at which point he can just grow it long and wispy.

So I felt obliged to get Aldo out of his winter suit. I had waited because of the rush of Pino Pie Day and had hoped to find a shearer, but to no avail. Since I do everything on my own anyway, I felt it was a good bonding time for me and llama.

For starters, I talked to my llama friend up the road and got some tips. Fortunately, Aldo is very obedient and there wasn't any problem between customer and hair cutter. No spits or kicks. In fact, I think he liked it. Who wouldn't like getting all that hair off?

Now, I don't think I will win "The 2014 Best Llama Haircut" category this year, but since I didn't enter one either, who cares. I don't. I just was pleased I could help him out. It took about three hours, and that was because I was using three different pairs of scissors.

NOTE to all llama experts reading this post-and I know you are out there- please do not write and scoff at me for my scissor choice. I simply felt serendipitous upon waking, and even though I knew I didn't have the proper gear, decided to forge ahead to do a hair cut knowing the heat was coming.

So of course the minute I started cutting, I immediately knew I had to invest in llama shearers, and I will. I could have taken off another inch, and might try to find a proper clipper and do that this coming week or next. Martyn had to be summoned several times to sharpen my scissors, and as he gave me back one pair, I'd take the newly sharpened pair and he'd run off and sharpen the dulled pair.

What I really loved about giving the haircut though were the simple moments between woman and llama. Aldo really likes to have his eyeballs gently rubbed, and even kissed. Since he was tied, I got to do a lot of that. The other wonderful part about working alone with a creature, or nature, is it allows you to go back into your own memory. It gives you quiet space to percolate, dream, grieve, love, laugh...remember. I had a memory flash through me of giving the dog a haircut when I was about six - I got a hold of the electric dog trimmer unbeknownst to my mother. That shaved little poodle took it in stride. I then proceeded to shave the bangs of my next door neighbor, also my age, but my mother found us just as my friend was about to clip my hair. I guess she got the worst of it, but we thought it looked fabulous. Our mothers did not.

So Aldo's hair cut might not be the best, but nobody was laughing around here. In fact, all the hair on the ground provided intrigue, and Aldo had many visitors during his post hair cut. Even the pig came by to roll in it.

As I left, The Great White looked a bit smaller. A bit older. I was happy to see he wasn't as thin as I dreaded. But like all old men who get free haircuts from their women, he hobbled off a bit lighter, and appreciative of the help I'm sure.

The odd couple meet Marcella

I do not let Marcella hang out at will with the old llama. Although he is very docile, and elderly, I don't trust her around the llama. She still has some play in her that could be problematic. Like I've said recently, at almost 7 months she is maturing, but is still prone to outbursts of,

"Hey Hey! I'm a monkey! I get the funniest looks where ever I go!" [Perhaps you youngsters won't get the humor in that].

I mowed last night and had her out with the war vets, as I call them, the most crippled of the Misfits, and that includes Aldo. He ignored her, but kept his eye on her, and she pretty much stayed away from him. But there were some moments when she got too pokey. She's big enough now to get away from a kick. She has to be able to run through a field with Aldo, that is just how we are set up here. Since Aldo is older, and appears okay with it, I don't think it will be a problem as she begins her real work the sheep.

I grabbed my camera on the day I let Marcella in the field. Scooby immediately went to Aldo's side, it was sweet. He is very independent of Aldo here, but is bonded to him for protection, I notice. Nobody picks on Scooby, he is an island, a real talker and his routine is to wander into a remote part of the field and graze. Then he chats up a storm when he sees me far off in the barnyard. But this particular day, when Marcella entered in the field as only Marcella can- full speed ahead and guns a blazin'-Scooby was staying close to Aldo. And when Aldo left, Scooby left. The image of the two of them leaving, seen here at the bottom, was so amusing to me.

The loyal watcher

Aldo seems to keep his eye out for Stevie. I like to sit in the shade hut for a break in the day as it is a gathering spot for an odd mix of personalities–goats, chickens, the pigs and The Great White himself.

Aldo has not been sheared yet- this is my upcoming challenge. It is not that easy but I will try it on my own first and see how far I get. I am not in the mood for a cow kick, but the fellow needs to be sheared for comfort. It will happen.

Aldo does come in for shade frequently, although he seems unfazed by sun. When he arrives in the shade hut, he seems to always take a little sniff of Stevie, as he did today,

"How is it going? Looks good to me, I'll rest now," and he lays down nearby.

A wet llama is a happy llama

I was minding my own business, really, watering the vegetable garden. I turned on the sprinkle first to water the top bed, but then also had a hose going to make sure my squash got watered. It was a hot weekend-about 85 and all sun.

And as I stood there squirting the hose into the air, I noticed Aldo appeared out of nowhere. Now, Aldo is not one to rush up to greet people. He is like many llamas, a bit reclusive or just not interested in human company. But there he was, rushing to the water he saw shooting up form my hose. The vegetable garden is adjacent to the orchard where Aldo and the more elderly, crippled Misfits are-like Stevie and Rudy. There is a fence between it but they can see into the garden.

And he stood at the gate, watching me, and the sprinkler. So I squirted water onto him. And he stood waiting for more. He loved it! It was so funny! I was covering is body and head and he made this sweet little face - he was in water heaven. I asked Martyn to hold the hose so I could grab my camera and he said he would, but got distracted and didn't do it, so by the time I came out Aldo had gone off to rest in his newly wet coat, seen here. Curses! I told Martyn that that one photo series might have made it into National Geographic or maybe Llama Monthly or something and we could have been rich.

I will try to schedule another hose down photo op for Aldo. Aldo needs to be sheared, but I am new to llamas and want assistance, and it has to wait until after Pie Day. In the meantime, Aldo will be taking many trips to the hose.

Shade for old giants

Yesterday I spent mostly hanging fabrics in the Misfit and Donkey Hug area not only so our guests will have more shade this year if needed, but so that Stevie and the other rickety elders can have ample shade. It always reminds me of a caravan shanty town! Aldo took to Stevie right away. I've witnessed Aldo's innate concern for his charges before. Last week when I was trimming professor's toes-pygmy drama and squealing-Aldo came right up to me, which he usually doesn't do, checked it all out and decided I wasn't killing him, but sat down near by until I released the goat. So when I brought Stevie in for the first time, I found it so beautiful that Aldo came right over, and lay near him, as if he knew they were pretty much in the same boat-arthritic.

Stevie had one fall last night-or I should say, they are really incidences where he is laying or trying to lay down in some kind of position [Stevie usually is on his knees with his hips raised, and of course this gets uncomfortable]. By the end of the day it is reasonable that he is more tired. So he gets in a sort of lay down position, and then with a wrong move can lose balance and end up on his side. I did not sleep well, waiting for morning, but he was up and walking so I was relieved. I'm afraid this is the way it will be from now on out. I don't think he can be helped by a wheelchair but I am researching.

Misfit Shanty Town brought to you by The Dirt Farmer

Let's get this guy a beer, or a case.

I had mentioned a few months ago to Martyn that it would be good to have yet another sun/rain shelter in the paddock off the orchard. Last year at Pino Pie Day it would have been helpful too, as I had to hang a sheet for shade for some of the goats.

Pino Pie Day always comes at us fast and furious. I am always rethinking and coming up with new ways to make it even better. For example, the last couple of years we had the newly added Museum of Misfits in my trailer, but this year I have decided to put the Museum off the Donkey Hug area, and also make a better, more visible Donation box.

Scheming, always scheming.

"It's starting to look like a Misfit Shanty Town," The Dirt Farmer said.

He's right. I can hear some old goat or donkey explaining it to another, somewhere in the far off distance,

"It's called Misfit Shanty Town, turn left on Tupper, 1 mile up, into Apifera, past the three gates. The more worn out you look the better chance you'll have of gaining admission."

We've had a lot of house projects this year too, so I wasn't sure I was being fair to suggest we get this new shelter finished by the June 15 event. But a girl can ask, and see what happens.

So this weekend we've been setting posts and getting as much infrastructure built for the new hut. If it gets too crazy to get finished, I can just hang sheets on it and we can finish it after Pie Day.

I have to say, a man that can build things his female half dreams up-and let her see them form over time into a real, three dimensional object-that is the sexiest man alive if you ask me. Add the overhauls and worn out hat and it's like falling in love on each glance.

And in the backdrop, some of The Misfits graze as The Great White guards against marauding trouble makers of any kind.

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I think they came over to help

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aldo's window

I still find the double dutch door in the orchard magical. This is one of The Great White's views at sunset, looking up towards Donkey Hill. An open window to the evening, and mornings and everything in between. In the morning, I often see only his ear tips popping over the door from the other side. It is always endearing.

Nap with Aldo's flock

Aldo sits near the edge of the pasture and keeps his eye out on the flock who are grazing in the lavender field. I am sitting below him, and above the flock as many are napping in the shade. This napping in the warm air is contagious and I think I will now nap. I haven't done that for a long time and with this head cold, the sheep have encouraged me to rest too.

A brief interlude with the flock gave gives me a sense of peace amongst the chaos, decisions, and concerns of an everyday normal life. Even dirt farmers have to sit from time to time.

More of The Great White

He is quite exotic for us all, so we are all admiring is unique feet and lips, watching him walk and lie down all seem like something out of a Jack Hanna movie. If you don't know the latter, I date myself.