Day: September 8, 2011

New feature: Tales Of The Mad Farmer.

Alice and Meg took some time out from their industrious bug and worm eating to sit on a fencepost and observe the goings of the Mad Farmer, and I imagine them to be gossiping and discussing the strange things they are seeing:

Mad: I enjoy that nice young woman who comes to see us every morning. So sweet..

Alice: Yes, yesterday she brought some butternut squash and then some grease and some apple slices. And old Cheerios. Very sweet. Kneels down right on our level. Lots of emotion, you can see it, one of those animal-loving humans. Not like some of them…

Meg: Yes, and she seems to live with that big strange man who is always pointed that big thing in my face and clucking at me.

Alice: Yes, well did you see him this afternoon? He was walking on the road, talking to a donkey. I can’t see our Winston doing that. What do you expect from a human like that?

Meg: I like it up here.  Those dogs seem all right, except for the big and brown one. Sometimes when she looks at me, I think she would like to eat me —

Alice: They would. They all would. You know what they are like.

Meg: Not the big black one. She seems awful dumb. Simple-minded. All she does is walk around and sniff and eat.  Kind of simple and useless, if you ask me. Anyway, Winston is crowing again. What a blowhard sometimes — I understand he’s just doing what they do, but I would love to come up to him once and say, “Hey, how about you shut up for a bit? There’s nothing going on here.”

Alice: Don’t.

Meg. Let’s get down. I see some moths over by the barn. Yum.

Simon is not the only creature calling us to life in the morning. Winston seems to have plenty to crow about. Maria says he reminds her of George Washington – all plume and strut, but I think of Winston Churchill, who also did a share of crowing in his day. I am increasingly fond of this self-important and imperious creature who inspires me to crow each morning about the good things in life: Maria, the farm, the dogs, my writing, the photography, my children’s books, my new book “Going Home,” Rose’s recovery.

At one time, the role of the artist and writer was to cut through the lies of bureaucrats, religious organizations and politicians and shine light on the darkness and pain in the world. Now, we pay to have bad news beamed into our heads day and night. So the role of the writer and the artist is to uplift people and remind them of the light and color and shapes of the world. I have enlisted Winston in this campaign, adding his strut and his crow – he is very purposeful – to the call for life that I hope emanates from this strange and wonderful place.

Each day, there is something to crow about. Winston is on the case.

I’m clueless about some things, including the special place the blog and Rose and the animals hold out there. Rose keeled over during sheepherding this morning, and we took her to the Granville Vet,  Jeff Meyer, and after a bunch of tests his diagnosis was pain and some paralysis from a tick-borne disease. If she isn’t better in a few days, more tests.

I came back to hundreds of messages about Rose, posted online and via e-mail and more about the “Going Home” video. Lot of energy flowing through Bedlam Farm. Rose is important to a lot of people. My notion of her retiring is premature, Jeff says. If the medicines (above) work, then she could be back at work in a couple of weeks.The thought of living her without Rose is not something I wish to even think about, although I know I would figure it out. And honestly, and I just have to be candid about this, the idea did cross my mind at first that I might be going on a national book tour for a book on grieving having lost Rose.  I didn’t take it any further but life is strange sometimes and I wasn’t the only one to think of this.

I do feel badly that I did not notice the pain Rose was in, although there were signs. I thought she was just tiring. I put up this video to show her struggle this morning to get around the sheep – something you have seen her do many times, with lightning speed and clarity. I saw her struggling and just didn’t get it.  I thought she wasn’t hearing me, and then I more urgently tried to call her off.

The sheep were all over the place, something she never allows, and she just wasn’t moving. Right after I called her off of the sheep, I saw her wobble and keel over and by then, I had dropped the video camera and was running.

I did want to share that with you. Rose is home, and will be resting for awhile and taking her antibiotics and anti-inflammatory medication. Jeff said she is in a lot pain, and could barely move her hind legs when he first examined her.

Rose does not like the vet, but the was a good sport about it. She was definitely not herself.

Rose collapsed in the pasture this morning while herding the sheep, and she seemed to be in a spasm, especially involving her rear legs.  She just couldn’t move.

Rose had been through a lot – kicked, butted, run over, chased by pigs, stomped by rams, trampled by cows, caught in barbed wire. We got her to the vet and the report is good – she has a tick-born disease, not unlike Lyme. Painful and somewhat limiting, but not life-threatening in any way. Going to get her this evening and bring her home.

I do think it’s time for Rose to retire from active work. She isn’t too old by any stretch, but I think her body is calling it quits.