Animal Speak

It's a Saturday morning in May and when I went to bed last night, very late, I told myself I would sleep in a bit. This past week, I have been going to bed much too late as just about every evening I've been binging on astrology charts and reminding myself of all the glyphs involved. When a Sagittarius dives into the next topic of interest, it is all consuming.

As it goes in life with animals, your plans are mere pipe dreams.

So it was at some time shortly before 7:00 a.m. that something woke me up and got me out of bed to look out my window. And there he was, Alibi, standing still but whipping and winding his neck around the way he does when he's got something to say.

A couple of weeks ago, just as I was heading to bed a little earlier than usual and feeling proud of that, I feel him trotting back and forth across the paddock. Then I hear his high pitched and forceful nostril snort. Something is not right out there and Alibi wants everyone to know.

I went out onto the deck, the goodles were standing back and watching Alibi for any signal telling them what to do next. I turned on all the outside lights while I hurried back in to put on jeans, grab my mag light, headlamp, gloves because you never know, sturdy shoes ready for whatever. Out with me go the dogs. In the event it's a cougar or coyote, or wandering human, I hope their barking will disrupt the intruder's thinking.

Alibi comes up to me but not taking his eyes off behind him. He's making sure I'm fully aware that he is not comfortable. With his energetic tether, he leads me to the corner of the paddock and directs me to look across the road to the treed landscape. Like any momma protecting her herd, I put a gentle hand on him recognizing his skin is tense and twitching, but just enough so he can feel that I have things under control now and he can let down a bit. He knows this.

With fresh batteries in my headlamp, I head out through the gate onto the road shining my mag light through the bushes and up into the trees, back and forth, looking for any reflective eyes looking back at me. I check back with Alibi to see where his gaze is focused and explore further.

In the end, I find nothing and I head back through the gate not knowing what caused his alarm. He came back over to me and over came the goats. The four of us stood together in the quiet night, letting go of any fear. When I could feel their tension slip away and I could hear Alibi's breath soften, I knew I could start contemplating bedtime again.

Getting back to this morning, unlike the other night, Alibi was not snorting. There was no audible sound from him but he most certainly called me. As I noted his neck wringing, with really really tired eyes I started to take in the scene. He had managed to get his hind leg caught in the electric net fencing around the pear trees.

For my convenience only, I do not have the fence energized. For the most part, they all assume it's always hot...until they don't.

Here we go again, dress up, head out. The goodles are once again standing back and side by side, not in fear this time but in concern. They understand that getting closer to him may stress him out.

Alibi knows me so well he knows I'm there to solve his every problem. He recognizes his hind leg is caught. If you know anything about an animal, you know that anything around their legs generally sets them to panic, particularly animals considered prey. Their legs are their escape. But rather than panic and try to pull out of the fence, which really would be typical of many other horses, he was standing still trusting I would hear his call.

As I approach, not speaking a word, he poops. Ha! Finally he can relax. He cooperates and lifts his hind leg for me so I can untangle the fence and kiss him with reassurance that he is safe to move. Once again, the goodles come over now that everything is clear, and the morning carries on like any other day.

The thinking goes that I might as well scoop poop, let the girls out, and put out some hay while I'm out there.

Tomorrow. Maybe I'll sleep in tomorrow.

If you want to hear what a horse snort sounds like to alert others to danger, this is a good example:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VtxecUYUH8A

Alibi freezing mid-bite to key in on a deer friend across the road

Unraveling

It's a word that has come up quite a bit lately.

First, it was used multiple times while doing exactly that with a little more than acres of electric fence tape. Five individual strands were wound together, criss-crossing around a long pressure treated post to make it easier to store and transport. No one thought about the unwind.

Then it was an emotional meltdown last Sunday. I'm not sure I used the word unravel, but it sure was a great description of my state of mind.

Yesterday, it came up again. This time, it was attempting to start a new roll of toilet tissue. There were pieces flying all over the place, big, little, long strips, tiny specs, and I was digging down two layers before I could get that bugger started.

So, what is it about that word? Is it my life unraveling before my eyes? Is it unraveling the binds of the past few years, strung so tightly while desperately holding us all together, waiting for our own space to appear? Is there a mystery somewhere deep down inside that with some crafty soul unraveling, I'll become much wiser?

Or is it as my friend, Mark, said to me while I was grunting and snorting and rejecting any pause in progress of unraveling that danged electric tape: "With a little bit of patience, we can get this done."

Well, such a simple statement for such a huge undertaking. But what about that? What about recognizing that as this new chapter page turns, awaiting the words to be written, patience will lay it out nicely, line by line, at the pace of a relaxed Sunday reader. It's my story. I'm the author. With what word will I choose to begin?

We got that post unraveled. And now with that tape I am creating a new space for my family.

Patience. Who knew!

Unraveling

It's a word that has come up quite a bit lately.

First, it was used multiple times while doing exactly that with a little more than acres of electric fence tape. Five individual strands were wound together, criss-crossing around a long pressure treated post to make it easier to store and transport. No one thought about the unwind.

Then it was an emotional meltdown last Sunday. I'm not sure I used the word unravel, but it sure was a great description of my state of mind.

Yesterday, it came up again. This time, it was attempting to start a new roll of toilet tissue. There were pieces flying all over the place, big, little, long strips, tiny specs, and I was digging down two layers before I could get that bugger started.

So, what is it about that word? Is it my life unraveling before my eyes? Is it unraveling the binds of the past few years, strung so tightly while desperately holding us all together, waiting for our own space to appear? Is there a mystery somewhere deep down inside that with some crafty soul unraveling, I'll become much wiser?

Or is it as my friend, Mark, said to me while I was grunting and snorting and rejecting any pause in progress of unraveling that danged electric tape: "With a little bit of patience, we can get this done."

Well, such a simple statement for such a huge undertaking. But what about that? What about recognizing that as this new chapter page turns, awaiting the words to be written, patience will lay it out nicely, line by line, at the pace of a relaxed Sunday reader. It's my story. I'm the author. How will I choose to start this?

We got that post unraveled. And now with that tape I am creating a new space for my family.

Patience. Who knew!

It's a New Year

As I'm sure you have noticed. A new calendar. A new line in the checkbook. A new annual deductible.

There is much that needs to shift. It is a time to reevaluate. The movement has been happening. The desire for different, growing.

When we have certain responsibilities, sometimes it is difficult to see how we can fit anything else in or change what must be done. I have been caught in this trap of thinking a little bit. I created the responsibilities. I created what must be done. As such, I can create the change. And what is it that I am seeking to change?

On this journey, sometimes that answer is crystal clear and that makes the mission easier. Then there are times when it is fuzzy, hazy, prickly, and that requires really going quiet to listen to the defined tones within the static. You know something isn't feeling right, you know it's time. But for what exactly? It's inquietude.

For the last few years I have been enjoying the unfolding of Facebook. I have been so grateful to reconnect with people from my past for whom I have always had a fondness. Our paths, while traveling in a different trajectory, still run parallel. Becoming friends with people I have never met in person has redefined the word friend to include kindred spirits. Facebook has been a fountain of useful information, expanding my knowledge base about familiar and unfamiliar topics. And the personal photos and videos--I think I enjoy them the most.

And now it seems, over the past year or so, that this social medium has become the lazy person's way to express their own dissatisfaction with life. It's a way to shift the responsibility for their state away from themselves. Stories are shared that are just not even true. There is no vetting that takes place. The story fits the fear that is festering so it warrants that Share button. Then there generally is no comment along with it. If there were, it would at least suggest some critical thought went into the sharing of information. No, just a share. In many cases, I don't believe the sharer even read the post themselves. I think the caption was enough to satisfy the need to feed the fearwolf (TM on that word, thank you.)

I find myself reading some of these posts and without knowing much about the history or the supposed author, my reasonable person's mind tells me something doesn't add up. So I do a very simple query, see that it's not accurate, I respond to the poster, and only in very few cases does the post get removed. For the rest, the post remains for others to share, perpetuating the negativity and untruth.

I have quite a few Facebook friends who never post anything fear-based, and I sure appreciate their choices. And then I just see so many posts with real low vibration that I ask, "What do you want to feel like every day? What makes you feel good?"

The unworthy: I bet only my real friends will send me a hug today.
The wannabe patriot: Share this if you support our veterans.
The God believer: Prove you love God and share this in the next 10 seconds.
The responsible US citizen: Let's build a wall to keep out all immigrants and refugees until we can take care of our homeless.
The only hard workers: Like if you think we should drug test all people on welfare.

What is it about these posts that make people feel good about themselves? These kinds of posts are very connected. They are divisive, they are judgmental, they are based in fear, and for me, they are too negative.

It has me questioning my own posts.  Do they fall into these categories that I find distasteful and uninteresting? I imagine we all like to think we are adding to the greater good when we hit Share or Like, but are we?

Admittedly, I am strong in my convictions. Would I like to see everyone move toward plant-based eating to end cruelty to all animals and improve our overall health? Yes, very much so. Would I like for everyone to choose a loving thought, action or intention over something spiteful, vindictive, or hurtful? Oh yes, I would. Would I like for everyone to wake up in the morning and see themselves as the most important priority in their life? I would because I believe all of their other relationships would flourish. Would I like everyone to honor their own god? Absolutely yes, because when we can truly honor our god, we can only honor others.

As difficult as it may be, I am going to refrain from posting much on Facebook for a bit while I explore my own intentions. It will be a challenge because I find Andy Borowitz incredibly funny. I may post some photos or comment on another post, but I will be keeping a vigilant eye on the tone. I want to live in the most positive light possible. Only I can make space for the positive light around me, only I am responsible for that.

Peace.

Fierce Protectors

This has come up before and again in the past couple of weeks, and that is how protective my animals are of me.  It isn't until someone else points it out that I am aware of it.  I don't think of them as protecting me, but only of how protecting them is my mission, part of my commitment to them.

When I stop and think of it though, we are a family and very bonded to one another, regardless of species.  Thinking about my own human biological family, we are fiercely protective of each other if someone else criticizes one of us or makes life difficult for one of us. It only stands to reason that my pack family would be the same.

Aside from the poodles, all of the animals are prey species, meaning, they are not predatory. But each of them has at one time or another come to my defense. I can recall very specific stories. And it isn't that I've been threatened all of those times, but it is what they have perceived. Sometimes, it has been one defending me from another, mainly Pippin.

I know that can be humorous but there have been a couple of instances where I have needed help because he turned on me without warning.  It has been a long time since I've needed to call on Shadow to help me. All I would do was call out, "Shadow!" with a very certain sound in my voice, and that angel of mine would come running from wherever he was. Pippin would back off immediately and proceed to be broadsided by all of Shadow's might if he didn't move quickly enough.  And then Shadow would stand tall beside me until I let him know I was safe. (And then I would proceed to comfort Pippin after being charged by his big brother.)

There are other stories like this that I can recall, when there was no denying one of them was looking after me. It makes me think how proud and fulfilled they must feel because when I care for them, when I command Shadow off of Pippin, or catch Alibi wanting to nip at Shadow's little behind, I know how strong I feel.

It is an honor to protect another. I think we all wear that badge of love with pride.

A Blessing, Right?

When you have heightened intuitive gifts, sometimes you have to stop yourself from completing that age old question: Is it a blessing or a ... and just look for the blessing. At the time, it may seem like a curse, but no such gift from the Universe would be a curse, so taking time to sit back and reflect often reveals the blessing, as shrouded as it may be.

On the drive home tonight, I just knew there would be a baby animal on the road that needed to be rescued.  I knew it like I knew today was Thursday.  All I kept hoping was that it wasn't one of the playful kids in a fenced pasture I pass several times a week.  I stayed in the left lane thinking that would give me the best chance of seeing both sides of the highway.  My eyes were darting back and forth, and back and forth.

And just ahead in between cars in the right lane there was a brief clearing and I saw.  I saw what seemed to be the down of a parent goose being swept up in the air as the other parent was frantically circling several goslings.  I couldn't stop.  There was a stream of cars behind me and no space to safely pull to the right and off the road quickly enough.

I watched in my rearview mirror as another car in the right lane approached and it seemed to me as if they slowed down.  It was hard to judge as I still had to keep my eyes ahead.

Tears started rolling down my cheeks.  The sobbing started. How is it that I knew an innocent creature would need help and then I was left powerless.  I ran through possibilities. If I pulled over I could run back along the shoulder and try to coax them off the road.  But what if my approach frightened them and they ran back out.  What if someone swerved to avoid them and I was there.  From what I could deduce, they were trying to get across the four lanes of highway, they were just starting out, not reaching the other side, would I be able to affect their instinct.

So, I continued driving, my vision getting more and more blurry.  I just kept seeing the frantic adult and very frightened and confused goslings.  When I got home, I changed and I went outside and hugged Alibi and cried while I told him what happened.

It wasn't until I picked up my computer to write this blog that it struck me.  Whenever I set out in the car, I always ask my angels to keep my path clear and all animals off the road and to guide me back home safely. Knowing in my gut there would be an animal in the road kept me in the left lane. My path was clear. I returned home safely.  Sad, but safe.

No Ripley's Required

When I walked into my yoga room this morning, I immediately felt a draw to my animal spirit guides oracle card deck.  It was duly noted.

Before I begin any yoga practice, I sit quiet, and set an intention for the day.  When I opened my eyes, these two very big ears and two very dark eyes were outside my window.  I approached slowly as I have been waiting for the deer to arrive and I didn't want to scare her off.  It was a fawn with a few spots remaining on her coat.  And then I saw momma.  For the few minutes that they browsed my yard, knowing they were safe there, I watched, soaking in their calm energy for once they leapt over my fence back into the unpredictable, that would change.

Deep, slow breath in of gratitude for a connection with animals.  Long, slow breath out of unnecessary concern for the day.

It was a hip opener series today.  Our emotions, in particular old memories, are stored in our hips.  I do my best to include a hip opener series every week, allowing space for what is ready to be released.

After mediation and prayer, at my table I drew a card from the Messages From Your Animal Spirit Guides Oracle Cards deck.  It was the Humpback Whale reminding me to find healing and promote my well being through music, singing, or instruments.  When I turned my radio from NPR to 70s on 7 last night on my drive home, it was a conscious choice to move from talk to music.  I guess I was on the right path.

As I drove out this morning, I was caught off guard by the sight of a peacock on the berm on the side of the road!  A peacock?  It was a male, a striking blue and emerald green against dust brown and sage gray.

"In history, myth, legend and lore, the Peacock symbolism carries portents of: Nobility, Holiness, Guidance, Protection and Watchfulness.

Contemplate the powers of the Peacock when you need more vibrancy and vitality in your experience. The Peacock can also help you on your spiritual Path, and breathe new life into your walk of faith."  ---Whats-your-sign.com

And when I came home later in the day, there was the most unusual and melodic bird song coming from the Juniper trees.  She was singing to me.

Referring to something else, and with  the slightest tone of sarcasm, my father asked me during our telephone chat this morning, "Did your cards tell you that?"  Yes, dad.  They tell me many things.

Context Is Everything

What a funny!  I have been laughing over and over this morning about a Spanish language mix-up.  Actually, it could have happened in either English or Spanish if you think about it.

As some of you know, I have been working quite diligently to plan a successful week of campaigning for my boss, Aelea Christofferson, who is running for a seat in the US House of Representatives.  She is traveling across part of I-84 here in Oregon, making a stop in about six cities by Friday.  My job has been to make contacts in each city, set up interviews with the local media, radio and newspaper, arrange meetings with the mayors, influential community groups and individuals, unions, as well as an Indian tribe and to find someone to host an open house or reception which is open to the public for a meet and greet.  All of this is to set the stage for her return visits and also to inspire people to get out and vote in the Primary Election and certainly in the General Election.

One of the radio interviews I had scheduled for this morning was with La Ley, the Hispanic radio station in Hermiston.  Yesterday, I spoke with the CEO of the station, in Spanish, to introduce Aelea and arrange this interview.

This morning, I was out with the animals, pulling carts and rushing around to get my chores done before heading to an early dentist appointment.  My phone rang.

It was Martín, one of the political news reporters from La Ley who would be joining the interview and who wanted to ask a few questions to fill himself in on the campaign.  There I was, pulling a cart full of hay and being pressed for time, continuing to fill feed buckets and bags, redirecting two bad boy goats who wanted to cut me off so they could stop the cart and eat, meanwhile keeping an eye on Pinkie who was attempting to break into the dry lot to nip at the roaming horses, all the while holding the phone with one gloved hand attempting to refocus my thoughts on the campaign to keep up with the conversation, in Spanish, in a very winded breath.

Me preguntó Martín:  "Está corriendo?"
Yo le contesté:  "No, no, estoy afuera con mis animales."

Pausa.

Question mark lingering in the air.

Oh how I laughed!  I shall add this to my list of language learning humor along with:

"Why do they keep saying thank you good bye?" and "Oh!  You mean tresmedialunas is actually the number of media lunas I can order and not the name of a very big breakfast?"

I love language.  I love how forgiving we can be when speaking with someone in another language.  I love that laughter is universal.

Translation:
Martin asked me, "Are you running?"
I said, "No, no, I'm outside with my animals."

Adaptation

Survival of the fittest depends on adaptability, wouldn't you say?  To adapt is to be flexible, to adjust, to let go of rigidity in order to make the best of evolving situations.  If nothing in the natural world stays the same, why do we resist change so much?

On a recent morning, at 4am, I was again awoken by howling coyote.  They come through the pasture across the road from me.  The routine is, I get up, open the window and make "ssssst" noises and shine my mag light around and lately I've been turning on the overhead light in my yoga room; they do not like the light and it sends them scooting.  Then it dawned on me, just before dawn, that I shall leave my yoga room light on all night.  It's not the ideal energy conservationist's solution, but because it's so dark here, the light floods out just past my front gates, and I have a better chance of a well deserved night of uninterrupted sleep.

I can't stop the coyote from doing what they do, but I can lend them a deterrent before they get thinking about howling outside my windows!  With this crafty thought of adaptation for a change in the dynamic in mind, I drifted back off.

We don't realize how much we can adapt.  I guess it's a matter of choice.  Fight like mad to keep your position, usually based on pride and stubbornness, or open up and find another way.

Watching my animals, I see how often and how willingly they adapt.  They trust that if I am asking them to do something different, it's going to work out.  It doesn't take much to set a new routine, just a little communication, confidence and a satisfactory experience.  Their instinct guides them and they don't second guess that.  We can learn something here.

One of the key words on a card I drew the morning of my coyote fix was "adaptation."  It said to make lemonade of lemons, which presumably one would do before the lemons spoil.  So, things do not have to get unbearable before we make a change.  Change is part of life.  It's seasonal.  It's daily.  In fact, it's by the second, isn't it?  If we trust our instinct, our gut, our intuition, any of those you want to use, if we trust ourselves, we can't go wrong.

I did adapt.  I let go of something that had been bugging me for some time now and while it's yet to be seen how it will evolve, I feel like I shed a layer and have a new perspective.  Isn't that the point of adapting?

Counting on Others

On a whim this evening, I got together with my friend Kim for a delicious Thai dinner at Noi downtown.  As everything is connected, I ask myself, "Was the food so delicious because the conversation was rich and enjoyable?"  Or "Was the diversity and honesty of the conversation born out of fresh, creative food?  To spend too much time inserting the experience into a logical calculation seems to detract from the beauty and simplicity of friendship and sharing.

One topic led to acknowledging the responsibility of having a ranch full of animals dependent upon me.    I make certain choices or pass on certain indulgences because I always want to be on the top of my game should there be something out of the ordinary with the animals.  Ordinary?  Well...

When I got back home it was just after dusk.  I changed from my "dining out" clothes to my "how many times can my jeans be licked, smudged, wiped upon, muddied up or covered in hay" clothes and set out to complete my evening chores.

First on the list, lock in the hens.  The big girls know to go home at dusk and they each have their own spot that they prefer.  The chicklets are still sorting out their place in the pecking order.  Cinnamon was perched up on the top wire of the 5' no climb fence, as she has taken to doing.  Ginger had decided to sink down into a nesting box, although a gender check is in order with this little one.  But where was Spice?

My small flashlight was not sufficient for looking for a reddish/brown hen in the dark.  Back to the house I went and came out armed with my mag light.  I have learned from a previously missing hen to start looking in the surrounding trees.  I did, and there she was, about 5 1/2 feet up in a tree.  She's a very sweet hen and she likes, as I interpret it, to be cuddled.  I gathered her up, wrapped my arms around her, stroked her maturing feathers and brought her inside to join the rest of the flock.  All ten accounted for.  All ten locked in for the night.

Yes, a big thank you to Archangel Ariel, the protector of animals, was in order.  It's a lot of work to care for all of these animals and each of them has moved deep into my heart.  My dedication to them is all about love, both giving and receiving love.  It's a great weight and knowing someone else is looking over my precious charges gives me comfort and relief.

Why Respite Ranch?

When the wind blows in Central Oregon, it's time to redirect and retreat indoors.  Rain? Snow? Cold? No problem.  Wind?  I run for cover!

It is very windy today.  The kind of wind that just knocks the wind out of you to make its own force even more hearty.  I thought spending a few hours indoors would be a good time to start on those taxes.  Then I realized it had been a while since I had posted a blog.  Naturally, the priority won out.

The animals and I are in our sixth month here at Respite Ranch.  Everyone has done a beautiful job adjusting to the new surroundings and rhythm.  They are thriving under the blue skies.  It is a lot of work taking care of everyone.  I am still making my own adjustments for what works best for them and being mindful of space and time for me.  They come first.  As any of you with children can appreciate, my business drops when one of them needs something.

Restating the fact, ranch life can be hard, painful--outer body and inner soul--and sometimes cruel.  Yet for any moment of discomfort, there are hours of comfort.

I invite anyone who could use a shift in perspective, a little personal space, a spot of encouragement to find their clouded truth, to come to Respite Ranch and just be.  We are surrounded by trees, countless birds overly generous with their songs, mountain views, fresh air and love.  Lots of love.

If hugging or grooming a horse is not within your comfort zone, just sitting and watching them and absorbing their therapeutic energy is vibe altering.  Of course, I would encourage you to redefine your comfort zone.  They are incredible healers.  Intuitive, giving, grounding, kind, compassionate, and knowing.  Looking into the eyes a horse is like finding the portal to your deepest self.  There is only truth.  There is only love. 

Do you enjoy eggs?  It is an honor to crack a pearl from one of my girls and enjoy the rich flavor of the bright orange yolk, the way an egg is supposed to taste.  Those not accustomed to farm fresh eggs might think the egg is a funny color.  It's the happiness and health of my beautifully feathered hens being shared with you.

They like to follow me around the ranch and they talk as we go along, commenting on what bug they just snatched from a blade of grass or encouraging me to give them a little snack from the house.  They are big fans of yogurt, tuna, rice and all kinds of fruits and vegetables.  We contribute very little trash to the landfill.

While Shadow and Pippin can get rather randy this time of year, observing their antics and their affections melts away any ice walls that serve no positive purpose.  They nap together, sometimes curled into each other.  They call to me in very sweet voices, "ma'aaa" and I cannot resist.  Shadow is so affectionate, it's hard to fathom.  When he curls up at my feet, I'll sit on the ground beside him and he wiggles a bit to get himself touching me or he finds a way to rest his horned head against my body.  And with such tenderness and knowing that he is safe, my angel falls asleep.

He will stand for as long as I will to be groomed.  He likes to extend his front legs, one at a time, and I gently pull on them, move them around, massage his shoulder and his joints and he is genuinely grateful.  Shadow is my protector.  If he hears my voice change as I scold Pippin for his bad boy advances, Shadow will leave his hay in his house and come running to me, literally.  If Pippin is challenging me, Shadow will knock him clear of me.  Then he comes to my side to be sure I'm okay and I thank him and kiss him and he walks away with pride knowing his momma is safe.  Honestly, is there any greater privilege?

Pippin is a handful.

I pray he never stops loving peanuts because that is how I get everything done with him, including brushing his hind legs that look like tattered wool blankets.  Pippin wants nothing to do with a brush so while he is shedding, he has big clumps of wool hanging off of him.  So, I feed him peanuts with one hand while brushing him with the other.  He is smart enough and understands that I get something too.  The poor baby does take his share of bumps and bruises by the head of Shadow.  There is a good 25 pounds difference between them and Shadow does have all the power.  So, when he gets an undeserved pummeling, he comes to me for comfort.  The other day, he managed, as goats do, to get a hook of a cord stuck in his mouth.  Thankfully, I was able to keep him from pulling and Shadow from head butting long enough that I could figure out which way the hook was facing and get it out of his little mouth.  He cried.  I kicked into crisis management mode.  So now we are just watching the little swelling he has on his cheek to be sure it doesn't get worse but only gets better.

They are humorous.  They are fun to watch running around in circles chasing each other or the dogs.  They are clever and you can be impressed by just what they'll figure out.

No ranch stay is complete without the loving companionship of Bodie and Pinkie.  Once you get past their individual manners of greeting you, they are perfect hosts.  You will not be left alone, no need for affection will go unmet, your desire for tactile stimulation will be more than satisfied, and your heart will smile and laugh.  Their love is sincere and endless.  

As wide as you can open your heart, they will fill the space with their loyalty and acceptance of you.  And when they fall asleep on your lap or at your feet and start to twitch, snore or talk in their doggie dreams, it is impossible to hold onto anything that doesn't make room for your greatest good.

Pooker,   the matriarch of Respite Ranch acknowledges you every time you come in.  She is partial to the Y chromosome, so if your gender is not such, she doesn't intend to offend, it's just the way she is.  She is 18 years old and she deserves every treat, kiss, bath, scratch she gets.

The Respite Suite has calming energy for a visitor.  I had the very comfortable queen bed made many years ago.  It puts you on the pedestal you deserve with its pillow top mattress, extra pillows and light down comforter that is cozy in winter or summer.  The windows are adorned in green, from the natural landscape outside.  The lamps are soft, the iPod loaded, a candle and incense ready for a flame, a few books of interest are on the table for when a line of written inspiration can round out your day on the ranch.

I enjoy my space.  I enjoy looking out onto my animals and hearing my hens cluck up a storm when they've left one of their pearls for me to find.  I enjoy how the physical work keeps my body strong and allows these magnificent beings to exist in harmony and respect of each other, knowing they will be cared for and provided for, nurtured and appreciated.

I think about my previous homes in city landscapes.  What different lives I've led.  I'm going to stick with this one for a while longer.  More lessons have been learned in the past 5 years than in the previous 40.  What a gift.  I am very happy to live this gift and share this gift, and I am not ready to tuck it away in the closet to be cherished as just another memory.

Silly Hen

It's a bit after 11pm and the poodles and I just got back in from a late evening feed and then a 15 minute forensic search for one of my hens.

I went down late to lock them in and only counted 11.  One of my black and white Barred Rock hens, either Alice or Baby, was missing.  It's never a good feeling.

My headlamp wasn't strong enough to do a thorough search on a winter's night of the new moon.  The stars are magnificent but still not enough wattage for a hen search.  So, back to the house to get my mag light and back down to continue looking.

Oh, the temperature is about 9 degrees.  I wasn't so cold but I was concerned that if I couldn't find her that my hen was in a safe place where she alone could keep herself warm.  They have quite a suit of downy feathers these days, but at night they nuggle together on their roosting bar.  I'm not sure if it's for warmth or safety.

Going through my list of previous experiences with missing hens, I felt optimistic that she had not been snatched by a predator but for some reason did not return the hen house when everyone else did.  This is when I wish my dogs were trained to flush out a bird.  There is a lot of sage bush around and plenty of trees where she could hide.

After coming around for the second time, I started to look up.  Maybe instead of digging in to the dirt as they do during the day, she went up to roost.  Whew!  Big sigh.  There she was perched on a branch of their favorite Juniper tree.  It's so big and full with very low hanging branches and plenty of loose dirt around the bottom that there is where they spend a lot of their time.

Thankfully I could push through the branches enough to pick up my hen and bring her back home.  Red the rooster had much to say about her clucklings; perhaps a welcoming back home, perhaps a disciplinary comment.  It was a  satisfying feeling to close up that door knowing all 12 of my chickens are safe and sound and settling down for a long winter's nap.

A Fire Sign

The sign posts all around me have been pointing to infinite potential, endless possibilities, getting acquainted with the heart mind.

Having come through the other side of a major life transition, my eyes are open and my ears are perked.  Where does my path want to lead me?  What does that next stone under my well-danced feet feel like? I am wildly curious and tickled pink.

Lately, I have taken note of just how much I gaze up into the sky.  It is fascinating.  It is inspiring.  It is magical and mystical.  I used to dream of rainbows and shooting stars.  My dreams have come true.

The Full Cold Moon energy of this month has my body tingling.  I wake up in the wee hours and go look outside.  With the snow and the moonlight, everything is glowing, the hour uncertain.  Last night the sky cleared.  This morning at sunrise, I walked to the west door and greeted the day with a sleepy grin.

Invigorated by the crisp winter air, I spent a good part of the day outdoors.  Alibi and I took a walk to the mailbox at the end of the road to pick up a package I have been expecting.  It was just us on the road.  My boots crunching in the cold snow and his hooves steadily keeping pace.  Our hearts are in rhythm.

When I finally came in, the moon was just rising in the east.  I completely relish being able to see both the east and the west from my windows.    As the December moon rose up over the pasture in front, I put my tarot cards and their pretty purple brocade box on the sill to be cleansed by the full moon energy.

The poodles and I needed to get to the feed store before it closed.  I am breaking down and buying a heater for the water trough.  Although I revel in the increasing daylight hours, I cannot be fooled by the calendar.  It tells me I may be breaking ice in the water for quite some time to come.

Before taking another step toward departing, I knew I had to look to the west.  The Cascades always perform.  The three Sisters were crystal clear, snow covered and basking in the setting sun.

As we were driving home from Big R, I stole a glance up toward the clear winter night sky and there it was!  A shooting star.  It was as if it came from behind my reliable winter transport, over my head, hooked on to my front grill and coaxed us forward chasing its fiery tail.  It said, "this way."

Look.  Look up.  Look forward.  Look inward.  There lies your path.

Saturday Bliss

Last month's question of "For what are you grateful?" is still on the front burner.  As there are generally two front burners, this month's question, "What brings you joy?" is right beside it.

It's a classic December Saturday: a little late sleep in,

sunshine and occasional clouds, brisk air, possibility of some snow but not looking like it, nothing on the must-do agenda, spending lots of time outdoors with the animals, a friendly visit from April, anticipating the arrival of Jacqueline next week and then Laurie and Lucas the following, and just doing what strikes my fancy.

And that is my joy!   



Joy to the World.

Bend at its Finest

There is much I like about living in Bend.  I've been giving it a lot of thought lately.  Checking in, am I in the right place?

This morning, February 12, it is a superb Central Oregon winter morning.  Blue sky, crisp views of the snow covered Cascades, windless, warming sun, the smell of a morning wood stove burning, all makes 27 degrees thoroughly enjoyable.  I have not lived anywhere else where 27 degrees can feel warm.

Meeting people.  It's easy here.  People here are people people.  They like people.  They like to engage.  This is much different than anywhere else I have lived (well, Argentina was like that but I'm not sure it wasn't partly because I am con ojos claros.)  On a daily basis, when I leave the ranch, I have a conversation with someone I do not know.  Not just an exchange of pleasantries, but an actual dialogue.  They say that's good for warding off dementia.

In the last two days, two people have come over to me and introduced themselves and we had the most delightful conversation.  This is good stuff.

The animals are certainly something I have not experienced elsewhere.  I do my best to take time every day, regardless of my schedule, to sit and listen to what is around me.  Fortunately for me, I hear a lot of animal sounds.  I can hear the neighbor's rooster, and turkey when he has one, his cows and sheep.  I can hear horses from two ranches over, alpaca when they alarm, dogs from down the road.  Of course, the most prominent of sounds are my own animals.  They all like to chat; someone always has something to say.  It is a joy to take a moment to be present with the life force around me.

Activities are abundant in this town.  I'm not sure there is an off-season.  The community is very active in putting events together and getting out to support one another.  There is much to choose from, sometimes more than one can take in in a day.  One can visit a different yoga studio each day of the week and still not have visited them all.

Shopping is quite different here in Bend.  For starters, parking spaces are much bigger than any other place I have lived.  They are meant to accommodate the larger ranch vehicles and trailers that are common and quite necessary modes of transportation.  It doesn't matter what time of day you go to Target; I really like that.  What I buy is very different.  Now, my shopping list consists of pine shavings, hen crack (I'm pretty sure the packable label says scratch,) horse supplements, cat toys, SWAT to keep the flies off the horses, work gloves, turtlenecks, pants and shorts with good pockets, Wrangler jeans and much more along those lines.  When looking at a new pair of shoes, some habits never die, I consider how much the grass or pine shavings will stick to the shoe before purchasing them.

Neighbors are necessary.  When you live in an environment where things change on a moment's notice and just about anything can happen, having neighbors is critical.  We all know this.  It's a give and take and for any of us to get by, it must be.

People wave when you pass them on the road.
From my house to town, there is a 2 mile section that has a speed limit of 55mph.  Slower ahead.
Coffee shops are plenty, and not just Starbucks.
Farmers' markets are anticipated and well-shopped.
Restaurants do their part in shopping and serving local.
Going to the feed store is a social outing, plan to stay a while. Oh, and dogs are welcome.
The air is fresh.
Resources are respected.
The Sheriff looks after animals as much as people.
The laws protect animals.
There is a sliding scale for many services.
Being in a small town makes you think twice about what you say. Oddly it curbs some negative habits.

This list can go on and on.  It's good to sit and write what brings you joy.  Yes, we must find our own true joy within as well.  That can be a difficult lock to pick depending on your life experiences.  So, when the external forces are positive and joyful, that sticky lock gets a good lube job.

What brings you joy?

What's Up With That?

This is what I asked the universe yesterday. What's up with that?

Esperanza was our darling Ameraucana chicken who layed dainty blue-green eggs. Well, she was never a steady layer, but when she was on a roll, she would gift us one of her pretty eggs every other day. She frequently went on hiatus for weeks at a time and then out of the blue, there it would be in the nesting box, her blue-green pearl.

When she was a baby chick, she had a lame leg. Throughout her life of almost 2 years, she got along just like the other hens, but with one eye. She was bullied as a chick and we wondered if she'd make it as she often set herself apart from the other 5.

Her early childhood experiences made her the fiercely independent and almost fearless hen she lived to be. She made me laugh many times.

Just yesterday I was at the duck pond giving out the left-over brown rice tortillas. The ducks were swimming in closer to get theirs and the 4 hens and Red, the rooster, came to my feet asking for their share.

As Esperanza, which means hope in Spanish, couldn't always see what was thrown to her, it depended on which way she was looking, I put pieces down just right for her. The other hens are quick to grab. She gave up on them and walked to the pond.

There she was, chest high in the water, picking pieces of tortilla out of the pond. I had to remind her, she was a chicken after all. She came running out of the pond and scooted across the drylot toward the creek where the other hens had relocated themselves.

Coming out of the house from a cookie break with the dogs shortly after, I heard Red's alarming call. I hadn't heard that call before, but that's what told me something wasn't right. It was a constant and higher pitched call than his typical call to gather his flock.

Alice was with him tucked under the Juniper and with his eyes wide open darting from east to west, he drew me in to his dance of urgency. I looked to the west and saw a reddish dog running off through the neighboring field. The horses were all at the west fence, looking. Immediately I went off in search of my 3 other hens. I have been down this road before and if there was any chance of finding them, it was now.

With Alice and Red accounted for, I then checked off Baby and Juanita but was missing Esperanza. I called and called and walked the creek next door shaking a plastic bag of Dole prepared salad that she loves. (On a side note there are still some feathers from my dearly departed Black Top.) I couldn't find her.

Trying to remain optimistic as she could be almost anywhere on the ranch, I returned to my task of poop scooping, keeping my eye out for her or the returning dog. Then, Pinkie was trying to get at something on the other side of the fence. In fact, it was just under the noses of where the horses had been standing.

Oddly enough, right before this, I swore I heard this throat sound that the hens make. I looked and saw the hens off on the other side of the lawn, so it wasn't them. I spun around the other direction looking, could it be Esperanza?

I don't know if I heard her last call for help or her coo to me as she transitioned into a chicken angel or if I was just hoping I had heard her. I did find Esperanza, lifeless. A dog had attacked her from behind, bit right into her back. Coward dog.

My only hope is that she didn't see it coming, that she was being her happy chicken self with her good eye to the ground, relishing in a new find of hatching bugs. Please universe, let it have been that way.

We have now lost 3 chickens to other people's dogs. Why?

We have 9 new baby chicks, 2 of them are Ameraucanas, like Esperanza. They are named Marilyn and Squirrel, one for her blonde feathers and light eyes and the other for her puffy cheeks seeming like they are filled with a stash of goodies.

It's a tough reality with these animals, as I've said before. I try so hard to protect them and I care for them to the best of my ability. Yet in a minute they can be taken from me in the most abrupt and violent fashion.

What's up with that?

(Esperanza is the light brown hen in the foreground of the photo.)

Transitions

Transition is good. It's like getting the death card in Tarot; the end of one thing and opening the door for something new.

Transitions can be hard too. Ending a relationship--ugh. Leaving a job, particularly when it's not self-initiated. Moving to a new area--post office notices, documents, maps, new people. And the list goes on.

I look at transitions as a natural progression of one's life. Not everything is meant to stay the same. With change we are challenged. Our comfort zones squeek, the confidence meter flickers, "like the back my hand" isn't a daily possibility. How refreshing to find ourselves with new choices and decisions to make. The possibilities just keep coming.

After almost 20 years in human resources, I'm done. I've had many jobs during those years; each a transition in its own right. But now, it's the big transition and I am more than ready. I don't care to see another resume, read another change in employment law, listen to another grievance, play another HR political dodge. Done.

So a couple of weeks ago I was pulling out of the driveway and as I usually do, rolled down the window to yell hello to the 5 cows that generally hang out down by the road. On the way down the drive, I greeted the horses as I passed them and then the dogs as they ran alongside the car. When I returned home, it was the same in reverse. Then I walked down to the chickens to see how they were doing and checked out the birds flying around on my way. Then I went back inside to work on a dance I was going to teach in my class the next day.

It dawned on me. Transitions make sense.

I've had so much training in behavioral interviewing, reading between the lines, watching body language for that unspoken message, anticipating patterns, noting changes and discrepancies, teaching line managers how to interview candidates and how to conduct a performance review or disciplinary counseling. I may be done with HR, but these tools are engrained in me and are making my new experience even richer.

I notice a change in a horse's behavior or walk and know something isn't quite right, I pick up on the tired energy of an aging dog, I can tell the difference between 2 chickens that look almost identical because I've observed their personalities without realizing it and I can make a complicated line dance come across as easily attainable so everyone gets it.

So, when one thing ends, it's not because it was a failure or didn't work out. That's cheating yourself. It was good for what it was. Hopefully we made the best we could of it. Everything we learn and do will come in handy on another day--maybe years later, maybe tomorrow.

If we welcome transition and know we're being set up for it because we are ready for it, we can trust it and all will be well. If we fear the transition and look at it as a second chance or a Plan B, it will always feel like that: sub-par.

Hug change. It can be great!

Photo with Gingerbread Man after an amazing ride on a beautiful June Sunday afternoon.