I can’t say with certainty what Fanny was up to in the Pole Barn, donkeys go their own way sometimes. She might have mistaken Red for a wolf in the snow, or she might have just wanted to say hello in the storm, or she might have just gotten it into her head, as donkeys do from time to time, that she was now the boss with Simon gone. I will never really know.
Red, as always, took things in strike, he just ignored her and kept his eyes on the sheep. Fanny sniffed him carefully, I have a hunch she was glad to see him, and then moved away.
I needed to get Red into the barn, the sheep were all over Maria, making it hard for her to get to the grain, I gave him the “come bye” command, go clockwise, and he tore off through the deepening snow, I could only see him pop up once in awhile through the drifts, he got to the barn in a flash restored oder.
I wrote yesterday about the many people who message me or post on social media when they see Red out in the snow, they often say he looks cold and sad and submissive, the same thing they often say about the New York Carriage Horses. One friend posted and urged me to ignore these messages, I didn’t need to reply to them, she said, people get Red and know how much he loves his life.
I thanked her, it was a nice sentiment, but the truth is, I ought to have answered them sooner, and more frequently and effectively, and so should all of the people who love their animals and wish to work with them and keep them in our lives. First, they came for the elephants in the circuses, then the horses in the movies, then the chickens in the farmer’s coops, and then they came for the horses, and then they came for the ponies who give rides to children, and soon, for certain, they will come for Red and the dogs who work with people, for the guide dogs and bomb dogs and search and rescue dogs and therapy dogs.
Work, they say, is abuse, animals are not meant to support or amuse or entertain people, they should all be living in nature, in the wild, away from human beings. The mayor of New York and the people who call themselves supporters of animal rights are seeking to ban the carriage horses from their clean and warm and well-kept stables and fresh hay and sent them out into the holocaust afflicting horses and so many other animals.
Because no one spoke up and said it is not abuse for working animals to work, people like the mayor of New York remain ignorant about animals, they think they are doing holy work by cruelly depriving people of their livelihood and horses of their safe homes and work. Many of these horses face an awful death, sent either to slaughterhouses to have nails driven into their heads or to impoverished rescue farms where they will spend their lives eating hay and dropping manure.
Could any rational lover of animals really argue that this is a better life for them? Or a better life for Red? Or the ponies in the farmers markets? Or the elephants in the circuses, facing slaughter and extinction in their own habitats? Or the horses in Hollywood, now being send off to slaughter because producers don’t want the grief of dealing with people who claim to speak for their rights, while really finding new ways to kill them?
I answer the people who project their own emotions and feelings onto my dog because I want to fight for his life and his right to work and share his life for me. He helps make my life possible, every single day. If you feel the same way, I hope you will do the same. I am sorry to tell you that if they get the horses they will come for him, and they will come for your dog or horse or pony too. That is why I have to reply to those messages, if someone had done this in New York, perhaps the horses would be safe.
My idea of a meaningful life is to live independently and responsibly – it has been a long hard lesson in some ways. I do not care to live a life on a farm or elsewhere that is dependent on other people rushing to my rescue, helping with things I should have foreseen myself, or should have done by myself. Everyone has to live on their own path, in their own lights, I am never easy watching other people work while I am still or helpless.
I am never comfortable around people who think the job of friendship is to rescue me. Asking for help is one thing, manipulating people into giving it is another. If I can’t help take care of this farm, if I can’t provide what it needs, I ought not to be here.
In July, I was helpless for a few months, I had open heart surgery and was forbidden to lift or move much of anything, even my camera. I did not like those months, my entire being rebelled against it. I sat by and watched Maria and others do all of my work. Now, six months later, my wounds have healed, and I am not really sure how much I can do or ought to do in a snowstorm.
I have picked up my end of things, I haul water, shovel snow, bring i firewood, help shovel out the manure. Being active is being healthy, it worked for me for a very long time until my genes caught up to me.
I feel strong and my heart is healthier than it has perhaps been in many years, I walk and exercise continuously. There is no clear guidance. People say I shouldn’t shovel heavy snow, but people have always said that, we live in a world of fear and alarms, some justified, many not. Shoveling snow has not bothered me, I’d rather go out that way than in a nursing home. Our new national motto is Abundance Of Caution. That is not my motto.
Today, a big snowstorm. I got out the roof rake, brought in some wood, went out to help shovel. Maria is younger than I am, strong and energetic, I know she has taken up more of the chores than before, without saying so, she tries to get to things before I do. We forget sometimes, when things like open heart surgery occur, that is just as hard for those who watch and live with you as it is for the ones who get sick.
I learned at the first Bedlam Farm that the world is filled with enablers, I had an army of them, people who are always willing to support the blindness and lost perspective of other people so long as they get a piece of your life. I will not forget that lesson, taking free things from people over and over again is not independence, it is dependence of the worst and most crippling kind. It is an illusion of a life, it brings neither freedom or security.
I learned that enablers are not friends, they bring poison, not help. The real help comes in living your own life, being responsible for it. In being responsible for what I need, what the animals need. Last week, I saw the firewood pile dwindling in this cold winter, I got on the phone and got some more. That is something I can do.
This morning, I stood with my camera watching briefly as Maria started shoveling a path to the animals, something I used to do but do not do as much now. I think of my heart, how much do I want to push it? The doctors say it is up to me, be careful they say, take it easy. I do not generally take things easy.
I watched for a bit as Red help the sheep in place, and Maria buzzed along with her shovel, digging out a path. Before the day is out, we will have to do this several times. I couldn’t watch any longer.
I went to the porch and took out the long roof rake and raked all of the snow off of the roof, then cleaned off the cars, then shoveled the porch, then raked the roof some more, Red watching me, Maria eyeing me warily, saying nothing. Finally, she said, “okay, enough,” and I listened to her. I appreciate her respecting my need to work, but also respecting my need to stop. It is not the same as before, my heart needs more attention and care than I gave it before.
I came in, wiped off the snow, cooked up some oatmeal and went to work. It was a good compromise, a good middle ground, I hope to never be simply a witness to my own life, I have good friends – and a wonderful wife – who love me too much to rescue me from my own life.
