Maria and Simon

Maria tried to pick up one of the hens when she got caught in the barn and Winston the rooster attacked her suddenly, claws and beak out trying to defend his hen. Maria was not harmed, and the rooster’s reaction was understandable – he was doing his job. Yet another reminder that farm animals are not pets.

There is an almost permanent disconnection between me and many animal lovers – this rarely happens with people who live on farms – about the way animals are or are  not loved. I got a message this morning from a woman unhappy with me because I have not given the sheep names and admit to not loving them the way I love some animals. Others are wrought because I am not sure about giving Rose all this medication for what very simply might be the nature of a working dog’s life.

Animal love is tricky, and it is the most fascinating part of writing about animals and people for me. I call it ethical love, and I have my own evolving ideas about it:

– I do not love all animals equally, nor do I aspire to that. Donkeys are not dogs, and dogs are not chickens, and chickens are not sheep. When you give an animal a name, you are personifying it, and it is a perfectly natural thing to do. But no farm is rescue center or animal playground. Sheep are not child like or furbabies to me. I am not giving 36 sheep names and sweet-talking them each day. I love them by giving them good food, fresh water, shelter and appropriate medical care.

– I do not love animals more than people, and I hope that never happens. Animals work best in my life when love for them is shared by people I love – Maria – and when they lead me to people. I do not believe people who do not love animals are inferior to me, lack souls, or are not to be trusted.

–  I recognize that the animals we love are those that have learned – instinctively or intuitively – to pay attention to us, show us some emotion, look us in the eyes, cuddle with us. The animals that don’t do not get cute names or sleep in bed with us.

I am not a farmer, but a writer who has made a living from stories that grow on the farm. Still, no farm, surely not mine, can exist for me with the idea that I love all of the creatures the same. I do not feel about sheep the way I feel about Simon. Or Rose. Or Lenore. Or Izzy. Or Luly and Fanny. I love dogs more than cats, although I love the barn cats dearly. But I never want any of these animals to replace people in my life.

Many people have e-mailed me asking if I am praying for Rose. I am not. I am praying for the many neighbors, people in Vermont and elsewhere who have lost their homes and businesses, and in some cases, their lives, and today, for the many good people who died in the World Trade Center. A dog with a tick-borne disease is not in the same category for me.

And if Winston tries to harm a human again, he will depart the farm, and quickly, however understandable his behavior.