The learning of The Head Mistress

She is 5 months old now. Still a pup in many ways, but she is showing many clear signs she is maturing. Her boundary right now is small, her gate is the barnyard gate, Huck and Mud do not go past it. In time she might be allowed in the front area if the dogs are in, but for now, she is learning her role is different than Huck and Mud. She is learning to be The Head Mistress.

Very soon, I will begin letting her have short periods of time with the main flock. the lambs are old enough now that it will be okay. But I will supervise her all the time in those first trials. She will defiantly be pushed around by the mature ewes, but it will be good for her. She has done a fair amount of that herself, and now she will have to learn from the ewes that they too have boundaries. I told her it is like your first time on a crowded elevator-just because the cute guy standing next to you is pressed against your coat, you don't reach over and lick him.

Hard knocks. But it will all be fine. She has a good life, a job. We should all be so lucky.

I constantly question myself, am I doing this right? But I am doing my best, and have the breeder and other farmers to come to my aid for answers if need be. She has other important tasks on a daily basis-carrying the feed containers back to the barn, for one. She is very good at that! And she is maturing in small ways-like when she begins to over chase an animal in play, I yell out to her,

"Mar----Cell- AAAAAAAAAA!" and more and more she stops in her tracks, sits, and I yell out,

"Good Girllllll!"

She is learning the command, "Stop now!"

She is lessoning in her goof-ballness.

Then again, when I look at that smooshy face that she arrived with some months ago...I melt a small bit. And get on with it all.

Growing grass, losing hair and the shepherdess ages

Our flock of Katahdins are a hair sheep-they do not produce wool and require no sheering. It is always a delight to see their hair come off in late spring, and remember how deeply browned some are, or spotted in places you forget.

Right now the grass is growing faster than it will all year. In our early years we would be out weeding, mowing and breaking our old backs trying to keep up with it in the lavender fields-but I began to realize it was more for appearances. It wasn't hurting the health of the lavender.

Back then, we kept the sheep out of the field all year. But I hate to see grass go to waste. I am much more relaxed about the lavender now, and I prefer to use the grass for food for my sheep, rather than worrying about the plants. The young rams seem to nibble on only certain varieties, and at a certain point, we move the sheep to other fields. In other words, the sheep take precedence. We still harvest our plants in July-September and I sell Grosso bundles wholesale, and make bud out of the rest. The sweat and tears that went into those plants! But many are on their last legs as they are over 10 years old now-old for lavender. Much of the Provence took a beating in the cold winter this year and didn't make it. We toy with ripping out the lower section and planting Filberts, but we always settle back with a glass of wine, and sigh, and life goes on.

A farm is always evolving, flowing around what is working, or not working–and the farmers change too–growing older, and their priorities evolve. I remember meeting people when we first moved here who were then in their late 60's. We were in our 40's, bright eyed with clean nails. I had real clothes then, from city stores. I had ideas. The couple had done it all in the past, had lots of animals, bred sheep, planted fields and forests, and ten....they got tired. Or they got tired of feeling tired about some things, and they couldn't get things done as fast as in their younger days. I think we are just entering that phase of the farm. I look at younger couples now and just try[try] to keep my lips sealed. They will figure it all out for themselves.

I still enjoy being out in the field this time of year. The shoots do produce a lovely scent when you swoosh by them, and different members of the flock come and commune with me, briefly–like Irene, seen below. She is out of one of my favorite departed ewes, but I've never bred her, and won't. I could, there is no medical reason why I couldn't, but I just sense she is not up to the task. She just never really put on weight like I'd like to see, and fights with cocci every spring despite my best preventions and treatments. But I like her and she will stay here until she dies.

So if you come to Pino Pie Day and see fluff on the lavender, you know what it is!

Cat nap with a paint brush

Family in a a quilt

I've been wanting to do this for months. As you know, I am not really a sewer. I just make sewing messes-there is a difference. Never the less, I enjoy sewing, and still use the old '70s Bernina my mother used her whole adult life, and then gave to me.

After my mother died in spring, 2013, I gathered as much as I could from her linens and brought them home. I am not an ironing person, so I knew that using these beautiful linen napkins was a mistake, as I'd have to...god forbid, iron. Nope, no ironing here at Apifera.

The linen napkin squares are so full of memories for me. My parents had wonderful taste in fabrics and home items and I grew up with these very napkins-so many dinners, celebrations and family and friends gathered around the teak table, and used these napkins to wipe away remnants of my mother's meals and my father's too. Can you believe these napkins are from the '60's? I know exactly which china pattern were used with each color.

The center quilt square is even more special. When my mother was around 8, her mother died tragically. But before her death, she and my mother made some quilt squares together. For years those squares sat tucked in a closet until a family friend insisted my mother make them into quilt. She was somewhat reluctant to do it-I wonder if it was just too hard a memory to face even after all those years. Or it might have been that the person coaxing was a bit bossy and she just wanted the idea to go away so her little quilt squares could remain in peace!

But the squares were made into a quilt, and I now have it on my couch and am with it every night. And there were several squares left that I found in my mom's belongings.

I've been wanting to make some faux quilts [these are not 'quilted, as I don't know how] to hang about the farm for Pie Day. I love that this piece will be part of our special day- my mother, her mother and my father too–for I'm sure he was instrumental in picking out the napkins–will all be here in spirit. The plaid pieces are from my favorite pair of Oililly overhauls I wore for years until they literally wore off my body.

We are all combined on this quilt. It is a mother quilt, a family quilt, a quilt that holds family and friends in its essence. I hope to do more of these, maybe I'll aim to make one for every Pie Day. I don't know. I have many of my father's little white hankies. Perhaps I will make a beautiful white piece in his honor too.

A guy and his girls

What are you thinking, my little big man?

Thoughts on your last breakfast, or perhaps wondering where the nearest water bucket is to turn over.

Whatever goes on in your head, we love you, Earnest.

The three refugees and one pig tail

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Good morning donkeys and one butt rub

One of the positive aspects of having to hand feed Pino, and Matilda and Stella, is it means I have no choice but to stop and sit amongst them while they finish their food. It takes about 20 minutes and on a very hot morning like today, being in the shade of the old barn and looking out at Donkey Hill and the lush yellows and greens is a nice break.

And let's not forget to take time to rub our butts and get those itchies out–as Paco demonstrates below.

I get a lot of people-some friends, some strangers or people who just send a nice note of caring- that say they wish they had a place like this, to help animals and be on a farm. I understand that passion, after all I followed it for years into my mid forties before I attained this spot in life. I don't know how long I'll have the privilege of doing this, but I do often stop amongst a busy day, or a day not falling into order, and breathe it in.

"Pinch me" moments, they call them. I had a lot of pinch me moments in my city life too, when I was following the path that was right for me at the time, but I do feel my spot here is helping me produce and do my optimal work, at this moment.

When I was young, I wanted to be a vet. I was not good with science, good at math but just didn't have a head for science and biology. The vet school in Minnesota is one of the best, I never would have made it. But I was thinking today how it all worked out-getting to practice my gift of art and words, and help animals and vet them as I can. And I get to do hands on procedures with my vets when appropriate, but as an assistant. I am mid wife, doctor journeyman, shepherd, trainer of sorts, communicator, groomer and hospice worker, And I am an artist observing and feeling it all.

So this is how I started this very hot day. With my good morning donkeys. Pino's swelling is still there, but really good. No further test results are back yet.

With Mother Matilda

Every night I've been giving Stella supplemental feeding, a protein blended feed that I water down into mash. She is going on ten and lost some weight this late spring, her teeth are pretty worn down too. So I put her behind the half eaten donkey door [it was a charming door I made that the donks have chewed on over the years] so she can be assured all her food.

Matilda too has been getting supplemental feed to add some weight, so she eats on the other side of he door. And she usually finishes first.

I watched her today as she schemed of ways to get into Stella and her food.

Staring at the door did not seem to open it, nor did licking it.

Do you like seeing little snippets into Matilda's life? Consider a monthly donation to help Apifera maintain our elders.

Today's egg cam

I took the trailer down the road when I went riding with Boone this morning, and in so doing, had to park over the nest while I opened the front gate. Mama did a lot of feather fanning and running about,

"Hey, can you move that trailer, lady, you are on my baby cradle!"

I wish she'd hatch these babes sooner than later! I will have to look up the gestation, but assume it can't be more than a chicken which is 21 days.

Like I don't have enough to worry about

Stay tuned as we track this ongoing story here on the road.


This is the entry to our drive.

Notice anything unusual?

We didn't either, for some time.

Look closer now. Still can't see it? Scroll to bottom of post.



It was Martyn that finally discovered them. How many times we and others-farriers, vets, fed ex men–had driven over them is hard to know. We have a series of gate systems-The Head Troll has a map of all of them so don't even think about breaking in to this place. The front gate is shut 24/7 so when we come and go we have to get in and out to shut the gate. When we did come and go, we had begun noticing the annual Sand Piper game- they run to you and then away to divert you from your nest. Our first year here when we planted the lavender field, there were many nests on the ground. But this year, we would drive slowly up the road and there she would be, right in front of the car, then she'd fly off.

"Clever bird," I thought, bravely acting like the nest is elsewhere to divert me.

But then Martyn discovered it, as he drove up and saw her from a distance sitting on the nest. We groaned. How long it had been there we didn't know. But we opted to not move it, fearing she might just move it back, and place it less central making it a victim of wheels. Or if we moved it second guessing her internal judgement, we might place it grass but a hawk could see them clearly. What amazes me is she knew to put it in the center. Did she watch the cars for days before she decided to lay there? Or was it that the center is slightly concave and it felt safer? I put the rocks around only so we could watch it and remember where it is. This morning she was sitting it on it as I came to see it.

I was also taken with how each egg is placed with the narrow point facing down. Coincidence? I don't know, perhaps I can find time to research that.

What will happen if any eggs hatch is up to her and Nature. I imagine one morning I will check on it and all the eggs will simply be gone with perhaps a few remnants of their former home within a home.

I will not tell Paco about this. He has much to worry about, including Pino's privates and upcoming Pie Day. I will carry this burden on my own.

This week I had a tuna fish sandwich with my mother

There is no photo for this post because sometimes, there is no person to photograph anymore.

I was thinking of what I wanted-or if I wanted-to write a special post on Mother's Day. Not only am I surrounded by working mothers here at the farm, but I admire so many human mothers I know, including my departed one. I opened up Facebook this morning to a sea of mother photos and can't say I got depressed, but perhaps at this stage of grieving I just felt like I didn't want to participate. And how many times can a person say, and be heard, that they miss their mother.

But I did have an experience this past week and thought it might give encouragement to those who recently lost a mother. This idea that our loved ones never leave, in my experience, is half true. The hard fact to us left as land dwellers is, they do leave. The body goes and with it the smells, voice, clothes, favorite meals, telephone chats, and motherly glances. Can't get around it.

But after a year now, I have recreated my mother, without even really knowing it. And I have her "on call".

This all dawned on me just last week. I had been suffering with a cold, not a horrible one, but enough that my spirit was slightly off, my feet were heavy and it took me forever to focus on one task. I had to eventually go to town and do a lot of catch-up shopping and tasks. I went to the grocery store first. I hate grocery shopping. I got to the parking lot, and just sat for awhile. My mom and I would often sit in the car and wait for my father when he was doing errands. So I sat and watched all the funny people-we are all funny people when watched doing daily tasks like unloading groceries into a car-and I thought how my mom and I would chuckle at this one or that one. I went into to do my shopping and almost instantly I was hit with this desire for a tuna fish sandwich with chopped celery and dill pickles. I rarely eat tuna fish anymore but we had it a lot growing up and my mother loved a tuna fish sandwich even into her twilight years. She always added chopped celery and pickle. It was about noon so I gave in and bought tuna. And for the next 2 hours of shopping, I kept thinking of the tuna fish sandwich I would make when I got home.

Back at the farm, while making my sandwich, I remembered how my mom would cut the bread at an angle, so the sandwich parts were triangles. As a young child, I loved that. So I made my sandwich into two triangles.

And then I ate my sandwich. And it was as if I was feeding her. I sensed that somehow where ever she was, whatever realm, galaxy or whatever form she was in, she was getting to taste a tuna fish sandwich again–something she no longer needed in her current state. I sensed her enjoyment of it–like someone who spent a year in another country where they couldn't get a favorite food arriving home and relishing it on arrival.

This experience was not the same as having a memory of her, and feeling kind of sad, and then shaking it off, moving on with the day. I literally felt she had dialed into me that day, and urged me to get a good old tuna fish sandwich made, for both of us.

Pig nap morning

Perfect day to lie with a pig, soak in the warm air that has arrived. I took some time to do that, okay, I took 5 minutes. But I have much to do! We will till the vegetable garden up today...in earnest...no pun intended since at the moment Doris, June and Earnest are working in there for me until Martyn can help me with the man made rototiller.

I'm behind. I usually have everything planted by now. But who cares? Do you care? Not I, said the pig.

Marcella mayhem pig on the side

Marcella continues to grow, expand, learn...and be a big ball of walking, flopping mayhem. The biggest challenge right now is keeping some of the elder, more crippled goats safe. She means no harm, and certain goats-like Stevie- are big enough to bang her away, which is what she needs. I might even start short time periods with her in the main flock while I can observe. She is big enough now not to get hurt, but some of those mature ewes will explain to her very openly what her boundaries are and aren't.She is not ready to be alone in the flock with 2 month old lambs.

Just as I had to put Scooby Keith, then Old Rudy out of the barnyard in the orchard with Aldo -don't feel bad for them, they have a wonderful arrangement all to themselves- I now had to put Professor Otis Littleberry with them. He is relieved, I can tell. I noticed he was getting thinner about 3 weeks ago and began separating him at feed times to ensure he was getting enough. But then I quickly realized it was because he had become Marcella's play target, mainly around evening after I'd go back to the house. It seemed to be not severe enough for too much concern, but this morning-even though I've now been putting him in a contained stall at night with Moose and Goose to keep him away from Marcella's play- I found him with a bloody ear. It's not that Marcella is biting him, she is probably reaching out to grab him in play, and then the teeth leave grooves in his ear. He clearly is not afraid of her, but he tries to avoid her. So, I took him out to be with Rudy and Scooby, and Aldo, and he looks very content. Until Marcella matures, we will leave it that way.

In the meantime, Marcella continues to have her go-to man, Ernest, the world's most tolerant pig. Ernest has given her the heave hoe when needed, which is good. She needs to hear it from them, not me. I am constantly teaching her, or trying, with as little yelling as I can manage. But she is a handful. Still, I have moments with her where I realize she really is maturing right on schedule. She is learning that my hand motion one way might mean, "Stop, there, NOW!" and another hand motion might mean, "Come along, help out now". She sits more near by and observes, versus always going into goof ball mode. It's fun. I truly love working with her. I just hope we can get her grown up without a duck or chicken mishap, but many in the know have told me it is likely to happen once. I take the time to open the chicken hut with her, making her wait while they all fly out. She is very ready at times to 'play' with a flying hen. Yesterday I found old Priscilla in a part of Old Barn she never goes to, and she was away from her ducks. I carried her back to her clan, but I suspect Marcella chased her at some point.

It is all part of her learning, and mine.

And all I can say is - thank God for that little pig Ernest!

Soothing for the weary

I've been sewing all day, the aroma is overwhelming after working with lavender bud for hours. I can only take so much. Now, I guess that's not the best endorsement of my product-but the farm's lavender is very potent when you have gallons of it sitting around. Each little bud that lands on the studio floor and gets stepped emits enough aroma to cover up the stinky wet dog smell...oh, there I go ahead, not being a good spokesperson.

Anyway, I've added some new Raggedy Messes as I call them. Why? It means the seamstress closed her eyes while sewing, or hummed really loud and was watching the birds outside while she finessed them. My art, lavender and writing is how I keep the Misfits afloat, so check out the store.

If these items have sold already-I sold two right off the mar- don't worry, I'll be doing more in the days ahead.

Daisies for donkey healing

Pino is doing well and is eating his twice daily medicine mash so that is a good thing. The swelling isn't too bad at this point. I will continue to monitor the little fellow. I gave him some English Daisies to cheer up the rainy morning, and sun came in and out during his breakfast. I am convinced that English Daisies have a direct line of communication to the sun, don't you think?

Thank you for all the well wishes for Pino! He should be in tip top shape for Pino Pie Day on June 15th. Paco was concerned he might have to wear underpants if his particulars were sill swollen. I don't think that will be the case, but Paco is a good one to think of the worst, and keep me on my toes.

Donkey recovery room

Pino, two hours after surgery, still wobbly and groggy, but in the recovery suite with Lucia.

Pino is recovering from his surgery this morning. It all went very well. I thought about taking photos of the process, and opted against this. I didn't want to have a camera there because I wanted to be fully present, not only for my animal, but for my vet. With a camera in my hand, I am an artist, a voyeur. But without it, I can be a better caretaker, consoler, helper, observer and student to the vet. I can be intuitive to the moment.

And all the while, Paco and Lucia watched some 10 feet from us, clearly seeing everything. I will explain the set up. We opted to perform the surgery in what is the main donkey shelter, which is part of Old Barn. If you've ever been to Apifera, it is the first section of the barn, right past the gate and close to the coop. By doing it there, I could keep the other donkeys out of the picture, but they could see through the wood fence. It also allowed a cushy, soft area for Pino to fall and flail on-and work out of the anesthesia. And the vet had good light, and protection from the rain.

We gave him a relaxant, then waited, and gave him the shot that put him under. If you've ever done surgery with an equine, it is a sweetly sad state to watch-they get wobbly, but try hard to keep standing. But once he was down, we covered his head to protect it from light and dirt, and we roped his hind leg to prevent reaction kicks.

The intuition of the donkeys, and protectiveness for each other then came out. Lucia did not bray, but Paco immediately began braying when Pino went to the ground. These were concerned brays. We all know he is the resident worrier. It was not right to see Pino laying, trembling and making little sounds. And there was blood, a lot of it. At that moment, I mentioned I should have thought to hang a sheet or something so the donks couldn't see Pino, but they probably still would have brayed. We didn't mind Paco's brays, but we did end up giving Pino a tish more sedative halfway through the procedure as he seemed to slightly respond to Paco's brays. At one point, Paco began herding Lucia away from the area, I think more out of a protective measure. Matilda was far off during the entire thing, grazing contently, which I thought was interesting.

The growth itself had increased in size since a week ago. Even though we biopsied it once, my vet felt it was just the oddest sarcoid she'd seen, more because of the hardness of the inside and we decided to go ahead and send the entire mass - about the size of a baseball- to the lab again, just to make sure.


Pino came out of his sedation well - a process in and of itself. I will watch for swelling of the sheath, and the one worry would be if the opening to his penis gets so swollen that he can't urinate which could of course be deadly, quickly. He's on pain meds and antiobiotics but we expect a full recovery. Now we wait again for lab work-although none of us should lose sleep, that was a preventative measure-and we watch closely to see if anything grow s back, and how quickly. I'm afraid sarcoids usually always come back-I know, sometimes, they don't-every sarcoid person has their own sarcoid story-but I'm going by what several vets have experienced. If it comes back, we will try a rub on drug to see if it helps.

But for now, we hug Pino, and get him healthy again. It is so good not to see that big bloody mass hanging down there. I feel so much better for him.

It has been a up and down week here, trying to help Samuelle and losing him to cancer, getting ready for Pino. I have two ewes that chronically suffer for cocci in the spring, despite preventative treatments. I learned how to deal with it years ago with my vet so am drenching them 2x a day. I have two elders that are needing supplemental care to get weight on-this is routine. It looks like Old mama Suggee is dropping hay again so I might need to get the vet out sooner than later for another teeth floating. So running this ship sometimes hands you an extra load in spurts.

It is a wonderful way to live though. And I thank the many of you who have supported the spring art sale to help me maintain the Misfits.

More of the homage series

I have added more to the ongoing "Homage" series on the main site. The Homage series is my way of paying respect to creatures I find that have died or been killed. It is also a valuable lesson for me, and I hope you, in that we can look at creatures closely in ways we aren't able to when they are out in their living world.

Today we pay homage to a pair of little shrews, and a mole. The mole is incredible creature, huge hands that leave remnants of my field. As aggravated s it is to see mounds of dirt in spring, I can't hep but love them.

See more of the Homage Series
Homage to Shrews >
Homage to a Mole >
Homage to White Crested Sparrow >

Pino's pre surgery state of mind

Like any sensitive creature, I've told Pino little of what the exact procedure will be on Thursday. I simply told him it would be all right, it would help him be comfortable in the long run.

"But aren't we going to write "left" and "right" on this feet, so the vet knows not to cut them off?" asked Paco, the resident worrier.

He has asked me this several times, after seeing it in some movie or 2020 episode where a surgeon accidentally cuts off a foot instead of an arm or something.

Just as before, I answered professionally and calmly-that is what helps Paco the most in his worry.

"I think the vet will recognize his feet, Paco. She will be working on his down unders."

"Hope her hands are steady," I heard the The Head Troll say as she stormed by on her way to the lower paddock.

"They are!" I yelled after her, wanting to keep Pino calm.

Donkeys are stoic creatures. But when I lead him to a different area, without his mates, I can hear Pino's little mind at work,

"Hmmm, some thing's up, something is definitely a comin' my way."

My job is to provide a setting for both vet and donkey that will help everything go smoothly.

As I walked away from the donks today I heard Paco say,

"It can't be any worse than when they de-berried you," reminding Pino of his castration some seen years ago.

Great, I thought, he had to bring that up. I witnessed the entire thing and it was quite the sight. Not for dinner talk. The worst part as the caretaker for me is watching a bigger animal try to come out of the sleeping anesthetic. They try so hard to get up and it takes some time for them to make it and stay up. They just are very vulnerable at that time and while it can be amusing to watch their clumsy maneuvers, you feel empathy for them.

As I left the paddock, I looked back to see little Pino sitting on the ground, writing something on his down under area. Paco was reciting the proper spelling,

"Don't cut here, please. Thank you."

Waving to the sun

Samuelle sits for his final portrait waving to the light, or me...or......

Post Script 5/6/14: We got some of the lab work back. It is definitive that Samulel was suffering from cancer, and it is helpful to know this. We could not have done better for him and his suffering is over.

Samuelle flew off, with our help around ten this morning. I am so relieved for him. Before I took him to the vet for his final leap, I brought him to the light of the windows so he could possibly see Earth one more time, or something that might look familiar. He spent the night in a crate next to me for safety, and it was a hard night. While he probably wasn't seeing well in the end, I do think there were certain sensations-such as bright light- that he could respond too. I sat him in a familiar chair so he could look out a window, and took his final portrait.

He raised his head and paws up, and moved his paw in waving fashion. As a writer, and one with a vivid story telling imagination, it is tempting to believe he was waving goodbye to the light, or me. But I guess I could then be accused of...Disneyizing my life. The scientists in the mix or pragmatists will say he was responding to stimuli.

Well, I was there, and I felt it was both. I took him out and put his face in some leaves, and then off we went to the vet.

What a fighter, but he was ready for this journey, as were we. After he was gone, my vet and I examined his interior mouth and throat again. The roof of his mouth had become more swollen, and the lower throat was hard instead of soft. We really feel like there was most likely a growth of some kind pressing down on his nasals and entire left side. The lab tests might tell us more clues, but for now, there is no definitive answer, except that he was fine cat who lived many years longer because he happened to walk onto Apifera instead of another surrounding property that might not have had the means to help him.

Did he come here because he had heard the stories of this place, or did I somehow invite him without knowing, without words-just as I have always invited many creatures here before I have laid eyes on them. Some of you might now be saying - now that is really story telling, but I know for a fact it has happened many times.

Goodbye Samuelle Noel! You were the most brave soldier. May you take off your boots now and lay in the sun, the same sun that will shine down into my studio where we so often spent the day together.

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.

Samuelle's final Sunday

Huck once again acts as hospice assistant with me while Samuelle Noel lays in his basket.

Samuelle sits as I type in his basket, Huck nearby in case he is needed. We listened to Garrison Keillor this afternoon and he had a poem in honor of their family cat who had died, and he also sang lovely little songs to the departed cat. Coincidence? No, it was a lovely tribute to Sam to. I couldn't have done it better than Garrison.

He and I have fought a hard battle. What a soldier he has been-over the years fighting off so many chronic issues- from deteriorating foot pads to respiratory infections. When I took him to the vet last Wednesday, I was hopeful, I felt we could do more. His attitude was of a cat that was willing and ready to keep living. But we know more now, even though we still have the lab tests. We know his upper mouth was raw to the bone-so we took lab test for fungal and bacteria so we could be sure to have the right meds for one, the other, or both.

But once he started swelling at the eye [the red you see in the right eye is actually his inner eyelid that has been pushed upward due to swelling] we began to sense we might be facing more than an infection. When I left him at the vet's for xrays and care, I assumed I'd bring him home in a day. But Sam had a seizure on Friday morning. Because my vets know me and what I do here, they felt okay about me bringing him home to Apifera Friday night. I wanted to be there for him if he seizured again, since the clinic isn't staffed after hours like most day clinics. The thought of him alone in a crate and going into another seizure and maybe dieing alone, I felt he deserved more from me. But I questioned myself and the vet-maybe he'd want to be alone.

It is a fine line we walk with these stray cats and Misfits in need. What is best for the animal, at that moment? That is what I always ask myself, and the vet, and try to push away the human emotion. Animals react differently to illness and trauma. For Samuelle, if he was in the barn, he'd probably go hide away in the woods until it was all over. He's been in the house now since his illness returned this past January because he was a sitting duck for a raccoon-you could hear him a mile away with his breathing-and while I always was extra fond of him in the barnyard, once you bring an animal in and care take it, the relationship shifts yet again. For the few who have met Sam, they know what a sweet cat he is, a very affectionate fellow who talks in short sentences, and I've become very attached to him. I will be sad to see him go on. But he has had a good life here, one that might have been much shorter had he not walked onto the farm that Christmas in 2009.

So I brought him home on Friday and by Saturday morning I still had hope for him. He ate for me from a tube, took his meds well and still acted like he was present. He was trying. But he was also acting a bit damaged, as in neurologically. The vet and I began to discuss the possibility that he had a tumor or something pressing in his head that was causing some of these symptoms-like walking like he had stroked, sitting in corners in a daze, acting like he just wasn't brain right.

I now know I did the right thing bringing him home. He seizured again this morning. I had him in a crate last night for his own safety, and was able to hold him and be there for him. It subsided, but I knew this is the middle of the end. If he should make it through the night, I have no doubt the right thing is to help him on is way tomorrow at the vet. For now, I have very strong pain meds for him and he is basically in a state of constant nap. When he does arouse a bit, it is temporary, and he really can't walk right.

I want to thank so many who have bought art at the sale, or donated, and keep buying as there are plenty of vet bills to come this week with Pino and others. I was okay spending that $870 because he deserved one more chance and we just weren't sure what we were dealing with any more-we all wanted to get closer to an answer that might have helped him. I would not have done it differently-it is not wasted money in my mind. Sometimes you just don't get an answer, and you are left with knowing you did your best and so did the animal.

Many of the Misfits are aging, and the original semi feral colony of 25 that we inherited in one way or another when we moved in is shrinking. Apifera is shifting too, so am I. I'll just wait it out and keep doing what I do. I'll keep doing my best.

Samulle Noel: Emergency $800+ fund!

I hope for some support for this huge vet bill to help Samuelle. We are at $800 but that number will rise once we know what meds are needed. His daily care is $70 a day right now at the vet. I've set up an art sale, or you can donate here at the blog.

Update: Sadly, we had to let Samuelle go. In the end we determined cancer was killing him and eating away at his mouth. I was with him all through it and so miss him in the house, but so glad he is not suffering. The art sale stays up.

When it rains it pours.

Samuelle Noel needed emergency treatment yesterday and is still at the clinic, with the current lab bill at $800. That won't count the meds needed once we hear results. It's costing me $70 a day to keep him there at this stage, but he deserves it. He and I have been battling his conditions since 2009, and he deserves this. I'm very bonded with him by now-he is a super sweet guy and I always felt he was dumped by someone, but we just don't know.

Sammy last took a real dive in January with a chronic nasal infection which we treated aggressively with fluid drips and meds. He recovered a lot of weight back then, but his nasal or bronchial issues never fully recovered, but were good enough to keep him from more vet work.

This past week, everything went haywire. His right eye suddenly swelled up, worsening each day and obviously painful. I made an appointment for the next appointment with my regular cat vet. By then he had developed bad breath I assumed could be bad teeth but couldn't really see any. He also was acting weird when he did try to eat. I could tell he was uncomfortable.

At the vets, we were able to really get his mouth open wide and discovered the rot smell was because the roof of his mouth was raw to the bone in some areas. He had lost significant weight. The poor chap. Such pain it must be, no wonder he couldn't eat well.

The reason the lab bill is so high is we have been treating for bacterial but now are trying to see if it could be fungal too [hence the mouth sore] and also rule out cancer of any kind.

This is a lot of money to spend on a stray barn cat that wandered into Apifera some years ago - when we did his neutering the vet found a bone lodged in his mouth. We aren't sure if that is connected. At any point we won't know results until next week and in the meantime I need to make some money! These test have to be done. Sadly, in the end he might not make it, or might have something we can't treat, but the tests will help rule out something and help us target the treatments.

We've incurred a lot of vet bills in the past week with routine maintenance on the the elders for shots/vet visits, the farrier work for the old ponies, llama, Matilda. And now Samuelle. Then there is Pino's surgery next week-Pino is not technically a Misfit, and I would never ask people to donate to his surgery. But I can ask you to buy art at the art sale, buy books at gift levels, or buy books at the regular price.

How you can help:

1] Buy art at the sale
Full of inexpensive sketches and whim. I hope to add more to it - but for now there are some 60+ items there.

2] Make a donation of any size here at the blog.

3] It is also possible for you to call the vet directly and leave money in my account with a credit card specifically for Samuelle Noel. Email me if you like that option.

Thank you. In whatever way you can help-money wise or with emotional support. Life is full!