Goodbye, my Forever Friend

This was supposed to be a good day.  I actually got some restful sleep last night, and the sun was shining when I woke up.  Chores started out rather smoothly — which was much-needed after a tough start to the weekend.  At 10:30am, I was feeling very optimistic about how things were progressing, and so I texted a friend who was organizing a lunch of women business owners today to let her know I would be there.  With that intent, it made sense to take Augustus the Pyrenees inside before the ground thawed out any more.  I did not want him to get covered in mud and need a bath before my departure.  After taking him inside, I decided to grab a quick cup of coffee while the pot was still warm.  Standing at the kitchen window, still in my Carhart overalls, I stared happily at the sunshine warming the farm.  Then, I saw something in the road in front of the barn.  From that distance, it looked like a big brown chunk of ice that could have fallen off a pickup.  With the snow, the mud, and the melting ground, that made perfect sense.  But something in my stomach sank.  I set my coffee down on the counter, grabbed the towel I had just used to wipe off Augustus’s paws, and went outside.  

Labor Day weekend of 2018 was a busy one, at the height of our event season.  The Friday night of that holiday weekend, I was in the house after dark when the dogs went ballistic.  It was late and the sun had already set, but there was still traffic along our country road on a pleasant evening.  I walked outside at the ruckus, expecting to hear coyotes in the distance (which always angers my guard dogs).  Instead, as I walked along the driveway, I found a tiny little kitten sitting there.  I knew a tiny little kitten did not walk there by himself.  I want to believe that the people who left him in my driveway knew that I would love him more.  I picked him up and took him onto the back porch for a meal — and so The Cuteness came into our lives.

After just a few days on the farm, his health took a turn for the worse.  Multiple vet visits to treat upper respiratory infections eventually led to a diagnosis of cat herpes.  This later complicated efforts to neuter him, as Cuteness needed to get his herpes under control so his respiratory situation would improve, to allow him to undergo the surgery needed to neuter him.  And then once he finally was neutered, he somehow managed to develop a hernia.  With all these issues, it was almost unbelievable how adorable this little cat was.  Somehow, The Cuteness made herpes, a hernia, and upper respiratory issues absolutely charming.  Hence his name.  He was truly the cutest thing the Harrison Farm team ever saw, and so he became known as The Cuteness.  Cuteness & I were both extraordinarily grateful for our friend Debbie, who stepped in as his fairy godmother to help with his abundant medical bills.  It was a tremendous blessing to have this financial assistance which allowed us to give him the best quality of life that we could.

Cuteness charmed everyone.  Our visitors fell in love with him, and he was well-known for stealing both hearts and yoga mats.  We got so many great pictures of Cuteness curled up on a yoga mat, as he rotated during classes to snuggle all the yogis he possibly could.  Somehow he also managed to charm the other animals, too.  Maya Leigh the Horse enjoyed him, he often slept in a pen with the goats, and the sheep seemed to think he was one of them.  On the back porch on cold nights, Cuteness was usually right in the middle of a pile of cats snuggling on top of a plush cat bed.  As well-loved as he was, and as much money as Debbie & I had invested in him, I used to tease Cuteness that he had to live a very long time to make up for it.  But then, no amount of time would ever have been enough to enjoy his antics & cuddles.

This morning as I hustled out of the kitchen, I told myself it simply had to be a big chunk of dirty ice in the road.  It made sense for it to be.  It could not be Cuteness.  I had been right down there at the barn.  I would go and check on it, and then laugh at myself for freaking out over a clump of melting snow that had fallen off a pickup.  It simply could not be Cuteness.  But — it was.  Curled up as though simply sleeping.  Dead.  Very dead.  No gaping wounds, no bloodied body, no lingering end.  Death must have been instantaneous on impact.  I want to believe that whoever hit him did not realize it.  I want to believe the person had no idea how many hearts were broken with that death.  Cuteness was still warm.  I wrapped him in Augustus’s towel and held him close to me.  The sun went away, giving way to grayness.

In my grief, it was hard to let go of anger that had been brewing in my heart all weekend.  On Thursday, we had begun treating a beautiful young ewe who was prolapsing.  Alex held her as I cleaned the interior of her vagina that had been expelled outside of her body in an angry red mass.  I positioned it back in place, and inserted a “spoon” — which helps to physically hold the vagina where it should be to allow the body to recover.  On Friday morning, she looked worse, so we treated her with penicillin.  On Friday afternoon, I began to get more & more concerned.  When Marissa came out to care for the ducks, she helped hold the ewe while I removed the spoon and examined her again internally.  I began to worry that she had a dead lamb inside of her.  My hope was that the penicillin would help her body to fight infection, she could pass the baby (whether dead or alive), and then recover.  Sadly, she passed away about 11pm that night, and I immediately went into the mode of an emergency c-section to try to save any babies inside of her.  From the moment, I opened the mother up, however, I knew it was a lost cause.  The outside coloring of the placenta was a fetid brown instead of a thriving purple, and inside were two malformed deceased babies.  It was very late when I finally got to bed that night, and I was exhausted from physical & emotional stress.

I woke up still very tired on Saturday morning, but we had much work to get done on that wintry day.  As I sipped my coffee in an effort to clear my head of its foggy headache, I checked my email & Facebook . . . And found a social media troll commenting inappropriately on the Harrison Farm page.  This person was from Canada, and had a Facebook page full of posts against livestock farming, 4-H, medical research involving animals, etc.  This person made a rude comment on a picture of me with my favorite goat Katherine, asking if I was planning to kill & eat this animal that I supposedly loved.  Then, they made a similar comment (edited here for my own gentle readers) on a picture of Cuteness asking if I was going to kill & eat him.  I am very transparent about my belief in the circle of life.  I believe that if humans are to use animal products, these creatures should be shown respect in life & in death.  I train my team to understand animal welfare principles, and I allow animals to follow their true natures — even if I would want to change their natural behavior.  Each of us must contribute to the well-being of the farm.  For some animals, their contribution is to become meat.  We work hard to ensure that they have a good quality of life, and when their end comes, we use every part to show respect for the gift of that animal.  I am open to having honest debates about these principles — but I will not tolerate those who make a mockery of the circle of life or the hard work that I put into caring for these animals.  After seeking guidance from two friends whose opinions I respect highly, I simply banned that troll from our Facebook page. 

As I stood there in the road in my grief, holding Cuteness against my chest, it seemed so unfair that this little man who I loved so much could be lost — especially the day after a very rude person made such an unacceptable comment on a picture of him.  I try to find grace in my heart for those who make my life more difficult, but it is not easy.  In my own life, I cannot imagine having the time to troll others on the internet (from another country, even) who believe differently than I do.  I am too exhausted — physically, emotionally, and financially — from actually taking care of animals to have that kind of free time. Cuteness was the epitome of love and charm.  He was gone, my heart was overwhelmed with grief, and yet there were still people out there who felt completely justified in attacking me for being a farmer.  And that was almost too much for me to manage today.

Katrina helped me bury Cuteness this afternoon.  He rests where there is a clear view of the yoga lawn he loved and the barn where he played.  He leaves behind so many people who loved him, and who valued his sweet, resilient spirit.  He was just a cat, just another animal — but he was a magnificent one.

Our society right now is one of rage.  I observe this constantly.  There is no tolerance for other values, other faiths, other political parties, other beliefs.  It saddens me every time someone I care about makes a rude comment about another person or shares a demeaning meme.  They seem to believe they are completely justified in mocking another person or another belief system — just as that Facebook troll felt completely justified in attacking me, in mocking a picture of the Cuteness.  I am blessed to have a wonderful group of friends supporting me, and I am grateful that they will be there to comfort me & lift my spirits whether due to hurts or losses.  But I would ask my friends in a most heartfelt manner to stop using their own social platforms to nurture hurts or anger.  Every time you mock another person or another belief system, you are personally contributing to making it acceptable for others to do so . . . And sometimes I am the farmer who receives the brunt of that anger.  Most days, I can let it roll off my shoulders.  That day is not today.

Wheels Up!

It is important to me that Harrison Farm is a place where every human and every animal is valued.  Everyone on this farm has to contribute to it, if the farm is going to keep existing.  Sometimes I easily recognize potential of an animal, and other times their purpose is more of a mystery.  Wheels the Lamb was one of those little puzzles.  After living his best life for three months, Wheels the Lamb finished his journey on this earth early on Sunday morning 11 January 2020.  

Wheels was born on a particularly chaotic weekend in early October.  We were hosting our monthly First Thursday community event, had three yoga classes on the schedule that weekend, were looking forward to hosting a wedding shower for a dear friend, had several very pregnant ewes about to give birth, and my adopted mum Kathy was visiting from San Antonio.  I had one afternoon that I was supposed to be able to simply enjoy time with Kathy & her friends — and, of course, the animals came up with an emergency which required my presence.  We were at Quarter Horse Congress when the updates I received made me realize that I had to get home: a mis-shaped baby had been born and was struggling mightily.  It was just my luck that I had left my vehicle at Kathy’s hotel.  Thankfully, my friend Rebecca drove to the Exposition Center to pick me up to get me back to the farm.  Unfortunately, the location which I suggested as an easy pickup for her as a driver proved to be very difficult to access on foot.  And so, I had a memorable moment of scaling a fence in a mini-dress & cowboy boots in an effort to get where I needed to be.  The animals have no idea what embarrassing lengths I go to for their well-being!  

On returning to the farm, I found a lamb who was made very differently than most.  His front legs were curved inward, and his palate was slightly off.  These outer characteristics were easily observed, but I had no idea if his insides were misshapen as well.  His mother loved him, though, and he wanted to live.  We managed to get the little lamb to nurse by holding him up to his mother’s udder.  After repeating this effort every few hours over his initial days of life, the little lamb figured out how to hold himself up on his bent limbs.  

I began calling the little lamb “Wheels”.  I kept hoping that if I used that name enough, we might run into someone who could make a lamb wheelchair.  Wheels surprised me, however, by proving he could get by on his own little legs.  His mother proved extremely devoted, as she patiently stood as long as he needed to let him nurse.  We began wrapping his legs to create little leg warmers.  Since he walked on his bent legs, we did not want to risk him breaking his skin open.  Rebecca proved to be a devoted godmother to little Wheels, and found him some booties (designed for dogs) to help protect his ankles.  When we would change his leggings, I would always jokingly say “Wheels Up!” when I wanted my assistant to lift him up.  I am sure Wheels appreciated my humor.  The best way that I could describe his handicap was by explaining that he had all his parts, but they were the wrong sizes and put together oddly.

With his handicap — and his relative lack of interest in interacting with humans — I knew that the best I could offer Wheels was as many good days as possible.  Yesterday, Wheels acted like he had an upset stomach.  I gave him Milk of Magnesia, theorizing that he could have a bit of bloat from overeating.  Wheels never missed a meal and had grown to be quite a little chunk!  At the bedtime check, Wheels seemed to be acting like his normal self.  I bid him goodnight, and steeled myself that I would have to put him down if he continued to be in pain.  I never want animals to suffer, and meat is always needed to feed our dogs.  I was shocked today when I did the morning check and found Wheels had passed onward in his sleep.  He was curled up so peacefully that I had to shake him to discern if he was just sound asleep, or if he had left us.

When an animal’s passing is a mystery, I usually do a necropsy.  It is very important for farmers to educate themselves on what happens on the inside of the animal.  From the moment I opened up Wheels’s mid-section, I knew things were not right.  Looking inside of Wheels, his organs were all the wrong color and the wrong size.  In particular, his kidneys were more than twice the size they should have been, extremely pale tan (when they should have been a vibrant maroon), and were full of tiny pus pockets when I opened them.  His bladder was affected, his liver was discolored, there was a great deal of fluid in his abdominal cavity, and he had pockets of pus in his abdominal wall.  This all led me to acknowledge that Wheels was not made for longevity.

Wheels was only with us for three months.  From the perspective of a successful farm, he was a total loss — I fed & nursed him for three months, and yet his body was so suspect at the end that I could not even use some of his meat to make dog food.  Despite that, Wheels taught me & my team many lessons about patience & resourcefulness.  He always had a good spirit about him, and he persevered despite his challenges.  Wheels had one day of sickness, but many weeks of enjoying life to the best of his ability.  My team & my friends supported me in caring for him despite his challenges, and that was greatly appreciated.

Not a single one of us has a perfect body.  Every living creature has its own challenges — but every life has great value in our world.  We all contribute in different ways, and we all deserve the opportunity to do this to the best of our abilities.  For the days that we are here, we should all get to live our best lives.  Wheels did.  His time here was short; time is short for all of us.  May we each find the wisdom to learn the lessons of this life, and the courage to live that life as nobly as possible.  

Wheels Up!

RIP Pat the Goat

Patrick Euripides Ottman (aka Pat the Goat) slept peacefully into the goat afterlife at the ancient age of 12, in the early morning hours of 4 January 2020 — already judging harshly what the new year was offering.  

Patrick was a long-time resident of Harrison Farm, joining the herd for a temporary stay in 2010.  Pat was a noted activist, ornithologist, philanthropist, and aspiring astronaut.  He loved carrots and Cecilia Donkey, and hated virtually everything & everyone else.  Patrick & Cecilia were an enjoyable pair of instigators, who often played the role of the two grumpy old Muppets mocking all others.  This noted curmudgeon had recently decided (after nearly a decade of evaluation) that maybe the Goatherd was not the absolute worst person he had ever encountered, and had begun accepting treats & attention over the last couple months.  

Besides his BFF Cecilia Donkey, Pat is survived by his owner Angela Ottman, young goat Orange 25 who liked to snuggle with him (and who will now likely be named in honor of Patrick), a sad Goatherd, Maya Leigh the Horse, and 100 other goats who Pat disliked.  Pat was preceded in death by his frenemies Mustard E. Goat and Beef E. Goat.

Patrick was buried in a private graveside service on Saturday 4 January 2020 at Harrison Farm officiated by the Reverend Goatherd, with Herd Manager Alex & Student Assistant Austin serving as pallbearers.  Due to the rain, all goats stayed in the barn eating Christmas trees, but the ducks loudly quacked their condolences.

Unexpected Abundance

Many hands make for light work, and many friends make for a truly blessed farm.  I am overwhelmed with the blessings that the animals & I received today, and I am tremendously grateful for my amazing friends who support me & the farm through thick & thin.

On Friday, I received an update from our local Farm Bureau office that a company was seeking a farm that could take in produce no longer fit for human consumption.  I reached out to this business, and learned that they had been engaged to clean up a semi truck and its load that had tipped over & spilled on the highway.  With that highway cleanup complete, the company now had a giant load of old produce of which they wished to dispose.  I told them that we would be delighted to use it, but we were limited by our ability to transport.  Their representative then said that they would bring it to us, if we would agree to take it all.  With that unexpected good fortune, I was next faced with the query of how we could efficiently unload a 53’ trailer that was supposedly packed full of produce.

I am very bad at asking for help.  I hate to impose on people, despite my friends reinforcing with me that I need to get better at asking for help.  After being told that it took five men with a skid steer an hour to load up the semi trailer, I realized that it would take a ridiculous amount of time for just me, herd manager Alex, and student assistant Austin to be able to unload it.  I put a post out on the Harrison Farm Facebook page asking if anyone might be able to assist us with unloading . . . And I was completely overwhelmed with the response by our farm community!  

A semi trailer full of produce in real life is even more gigantic than what the mind can imagine.  While the driver & I unstacked boxes from the truck, an amazing team of volunteers helped unload and re-stack box after box after box.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart to Heidi, Aubry, Rebecca, Amber, Haylie, Natalie, Helen, Josiah, Enzo, Julie, Olivia, Tiffany, Kendall, Kristin, Michelle, Susanne, and Marissa for pitching in!  Their generosity of time, positive attitudes, and absolute grit made a Herculean task manageable.  

Sustainability is very important to me: environmental, financial, and social.  It was deeply gratifying to know that we were gifted with such a massive stockpile of beans, cabbage, and greens for the animals to savor through the winter months.  This will be quite a help financially.  The amazing byproduct of this effort is that we kept a whole semi load of produce out of the landfill, which is fantastic.  Having our farm community respond so generously to make this possible truly reinforced for me that people value farms in our metropolitan area.  

Over the holidays, with temperatures falling on this winter morning, it would have been easy for my friends to stay in their comfortable homes.  Instead, they showed their support through word & deed, making this great blessing possible for the animals.  I want the farm to be a place where we live as if the world were what it should be, to show it what it can be.  Today our farm community truly made that possible.  The animals & I are so grateful!

The Legend of the Huge Farm Subsidies

As a farmer, I am very used to seeing or hearing inaccuracies about agriculture in the media.  It is usually something simple — hay being called straw, eggs said to come out of a chicken’s “butt”, a hair sheep referred to as a goat — and such things cause me to laugh, shake my head, and go on with my life.  If anything, such an experience simply becomes a new opportunity for me to quiz my interns to ensure they know the proper information.  Every once in awhile, though, an inaccurate portrayal of farming makes me angry.  I am sadly used to the false propaganda used by activists groups that oppose agriculture.  Such things bother me, but I do not waste time when I recognize that the person perpetuating the falsehood intends to do so for their own purposes.  What makes me angry, though, is when someone who means well unwittingly presents farming in an inaccurate way that could harm perceptions of the whole farm community.

Recently, I was listening to a podcast that I enjoy.  It is based in Central Ohio, and this episode featured a comedian who is now living west of Columbus in a rural community.  I was quite enjoying his humor about adjusting to a farming community, getting chickens, and leaving an urban lifestyle behind.  I was very taken aback, however, by his representation that farmers are all a bunch of socialists with their dependence on huge government subsidies.  It was said in a light-hearted way of attempting to contrast the traditional conservative values of farmers with the personal political beliefs of this comedian.  It upset me, though, as it made me realize yet again how misunderstood agriculture is in our country.  It upset me to think how hard I work to barely scrape by, yet a misperception was being shared that farmers are effortlessly flourishing thanks to government tax dollars.

For most of my life in farming, I had very little to do with government programs.  I always joke that goats are libertarians by nature, and thus there are no commodity programs for small ruminants.  In the early 2000s, during a drought year, my mother had me fill out documentation to receive funds that were allocated for livestock farmers struggling with poor pastures.  At the time, my mother & I were partners in the goat endeavor, and so I followed her suggestion.  I received a check for a couple hundred dollars, which was a huge help to buy hay.  Having observed some of the frustrations of my mother’s experiences working with government programs, though, I did not pursue any further funding initiatives through the US Department of Agriculture.  The goats & I happily struggled to make money through the free market — emphasis on the struggle.

When I became the farm owner, though, the annual tax bill became the fixation of my world.  I have spent nearly my whole life working this farm, but I only became the legal owner in January 2017.  And since that day, paying the tax bill has been the top priority of my life.  We are incredibly fortunate in Ohio to have a program called CAUV, which allows farmland to be taxed on its current agricultural value.  Even with that help, however, being in an urban county creates a much higher tax bill for me than the rates in neighboring counties.  Most recently, the tax bill was around $120 per acre.  In contrast, a friend of mine who farms in a neighboring county (which is more rural) has a tax bill of $45/acre.  That is a big difference!  

Raising livestock is a labor of love for me, but it is not the most profitable endeavor.  As I became a new land owner, I strategized how to best find ways to use the farm to pay bills.  My neighbor & I became partners in raising row crops on part of the farm.  The first year (2017), we planted corn.  The soil does best with a crop rotation, and corn was what the ground needed — even though soybeans would have made much more money.  As a farmer, it is important for me to be a good steward of the land.  Our first corn crop went well, and I was excited that we would plant soybeans in 2018 to bring in much-needed income.  New land owners are faced with significant bills to pay, and I was anxious for income to pay down bills.  Unfortunately, the trade war with China that was launched in 2018 rendered our soybeans of far less value than they would have had in any other year.  Once again, I told myself that the next year would be better . . . And once again, it got worse.

Spring of 2019 was the wettest which I recall.  Crops were delayed in planting.  Then, after it rained and rained and rained, it suddenly stopped.  We had a terrible drought through August and September.  We were fortunate to get our corn harvested in a prudent time frame, but the weather impact was significant: in 2017, our corn produced 232 bushels per acre, but in 2019 it was only 165 bushels per acre.  That is a very significant decrease in yield, not even considering the terrible prices at which the crops were sold.  Rounding numbers, we sold approximately $15,000 of corn this year.  Expenses were  a little over $11,000.  That left only $4,000 to put toward an annual tax bill of around $10,000.  And that does not even consider all the other expenses of the farm.

Now coming back to why I bristled about the perception that farmers are receiving huge subsidies . . . Yes, I am sure that there are individuals receiving federal dollars in the realm of agriculture who are misusing the system.  This happens in every government-funded program.  The reality of the supplemental payment which I received through the Department of Agriculture is quite different than what the comedian theorized on that podcast.  Through the Market Facilitation Program (set up to provide aid due to the trade difficulties facing American farmers), I received two payments totaling approximately $1,500.  With that $1,500, I could put it toward the $10,000 tax bill, or I could pay my amazing herd manager for almost two weeks, or I could pay the feed bill for about the same time, or I could pay my health insurance for almost three months, or I could put it toward my loan payments . . . but in the scheme of operating a farm, the payments were a small amount.  I am very, VERY grateful for that $1,500 — truly, thank you my fellow tax payers! — but I want to make sure it is understood that we farmers are not flush with cash thanks to bountiful government subsidy programs.  

This summer I was having a conversation in which the other person told me about a TV show they watched which had featured a female entrepreneur.  This business owner on TV stated that no one should start their own business unless they were willing to work 70 hours a week.  The person with whom I was speaking shared with me how absolutely horrible this was, as no one should ever have to work more than forty hours a week!  My face must have had quite a reaction, as the other person then nervously laughed and acknowledged that I likely worked 70 hours a week.  I corrected them that actually my reaction was based on trying to mentally calculate if I could get down to 70 hours a week!  

Being a farmer is a calling.  It is not a job like other jobs.  It is my responsibility every single day to care for the land God created and the creatures upon it.  I know how incredibly fortunate I am.  My family who came before me prepared me for this task, and I am surrounded by the most amazing friends in the whole world who support me continually.  I get to do what I love every single day, with a level of independence that I cherish.  But it does not come easy.  It is hard to believe that I could work all year with little rest, add successful new opportunities for our farm, expand our markets, have a wonderful team working with me . . . And still find myself perilously managing the debt at the end of the year.  Virgil Harrison taught me well that it will get worse, and the animals & I will keep endeavoring to persevere.  Transparency is very important to me as a farmer, and I want my writing to be a window into my life in agriculture.  And the one thing I can definitively verify (no matter the many arguments related to the current farm programs) is that this farmer is not getting rich from abundant government subsidy payments.  Frankly, I doubt any could.

RIP, Our Beloved Howie the Duck

Howie the Handicapped Duck, aka “The Howess,” slipped peacefully away in her sleep to the great duck pond in the sky on the afternoon of Wednesday 16 January 2019.  Howie hatched in September 2017, and spent her early days at the Delaware County Farm Bureau Fair Tent.  She then journeyed to Harrison Farm, where she met her beloved human Marissa — inspiring in this young farmer her purpose & passion as a Duck Farmer.  Howie was noted for her excellent egg production, laying her first egg (and definitively establishing her gender) on 27 March 2018.  Howie endured gracefully not only the cacophony of the Fair, but also hip spraddle, a slipped tendon, and the arrival of seven new ducks who she adamantly disliked.  She enjoyed swimming in the duck pool she received from her friend Kellie, quacking angrily at Esteban the Duck, judging the visiting yogis, and sleeping on the comfy bedding donated by her friend Sue.  Howie is survived by her Duck Farmer Marissa, a distraught goatherd, her spirit dog Howie Patterson, her favorite egg customer Rebecca, and 300 frenemy chickens.  She was preceded in death by her poultry BFFs Brewster the Rooster and Honey the One-Eyed Chick, and it is hoped they are now enjoying sunny weather together in a land where poultry are free from spraddle, strokes, and blindness.  Howie was buried in a private family ceremony, with eulogies offered by the Duck Farmer & the Goatherd.  A public memorial service & wake will follow in springtime, as Howie — as a good member of the Harrison Farm Family — hated winter.  

That Christmas I was Quite a Scrooge . . .

One of my goals for the upcoming year is to spend more time writing.  For me, writing is my creative outlet and how I process things.  I was hopeful to return to my blog with inspiring stories of noble animals who changed lives through the beauty of agriculture . . . But as I often joke with my friends, the Harrison Farm version of social media gold is stories of cute animals combined with me doing something embarrassing or awkward. Since the last few days have provided plenty of those moments, here is my sincere written effort to apologize to my wonderful friends for being such a Scrooge this Christmas . . .

The week leading up to Christmas looked to be very full of social activities with amazing friends and lots of farmwork prior to my team exiting for a Christmas break.  I delivered Christmas cookies to many friends, had wonderful holiday gatherings with friends & professional associates, knocked out numerous business meetings before the holiday, and managed a lot of unexpected farm issues.  Continuing the 2018 trend of bizarre health ailments, Marissa & I processed a lamb whose kidney stones caused his bladder to rupture last Thursday.  Even though it was Marissa’s final day at the farm before she traveled home — and it was scheduled to be my day to get the house ready for Christmas — we always have to respond whenever there is an animal with health issues.

Last Friday, I worked very hard all day to have the farm in order and everything ready for our final Holiday Open Farm of the season.  I had a late dinner scheduled that night with one of my favorite people, and I diligently hustled to get my work wrapped so I could enjoy catching up with my friend.  We had a great dinner, and I had such a nice evening, but by the time I departed I was feeling a bit off.  I blamed it on being super tired, but while driving home I felt very weird.  I thought I just needed to get some rest, and blamed it on maybe eating something wrong, or possibly too much wine with dinner.  I was sure I would be fine after some good sleep.

Unfortunately, I awoke the next morning in a terrible state, and soon had to admit that I was experiencing something much more serious than a simple upset stomach.  I was completely knocked out by a brutal stomach flu.  Thanks to the early lessons of Virgil Harrison, I am usually quite resilient when it comes to working through pain & illness: “You are going to feel bad anyway, so you might as well get something done, and the fresh air will do you good.”  I have done chores through migraines, illness, and injuries — but this flu had me nearly comatose for 36 hours.  I was extraordinarily fortunate on Saturday for three amazing people: my friend Kelley was coming out to get eggs and immediately responded with her phenomenal chicken soup when she learned I was sick, my friend Amanda went on a run for emergency 7Up and then ended up managing several farm items, and my intern Nathan stepped up to handle animal care for me.  

On Sunday, I endeavored to handle the chores.  I was exhausted and was grateful that Aubry made sure the animals all had water, during her stop to take care of the Alpacas.  I cancelled all my commitments that day, and since I had no energy it took me most of the day to feed the animals.  On Monday, I realized I was still weak from living on broth, 7Up, and tea.  It again took me most of the day to get the chores done, and I was sad to realize I would not be able to join my friends that night for Christmas Eve Mass and then dinner.  

As I slogged through the mud of the farm that day, I was extremely tired and grumpy.  Nathan had helped a ewe who had twins on Saturday, and unfortunately one of the babies was not doing well on Sunday.  I brought it in the house to warm it, and tried over and over to feed it.  Sadly, the lamb did not make it, so I buried the baby right before dark on Monday.  I knew that once I wrapped the chores and I was back in the house that night, I would need to reach out to my farm team to cancel our Boxing Day brunch.  I love hosting my former & current interns, and I was quite vexed that this illness had taken so much out of me that I had to cancel all my Christmas social events.    Trying to take it easy on myself, I had used my SUV to transport a lot of the feed.  I was so grateful to get the chores done, and was nearly ready to head in to the house.  As I shut the back door of the SUV, the stabilizing arm that holds the door broke, pierced the rear window, and it shattered all over me.  I was a rather pathetic picture in my ancient Carhartt overalls, exhausted beyond measure, looking at the shards of glass all around me, and thinking “Well . . . “

I knew I could not do anything to address the broken window that night, so I parked the vehicle.  Still grumpy over missing Christmas Eve with my dear friends, I decided to at least make it a productive night.  I was moving slow, but there was a mountain of laundry to wash.  I started a load . . . And soon realized something was wrong with the washing machine as water was spewing all over the floor.  At that point I decided I was done with Christmas Eve, and was going to bed.  

I am grateful to say that I was able to attend Mass on Christmas morning, and it made me incredibly happy to hear from many friends via text that day.  After my Christmas feast of chicken broth & 7Up, I gathered up the gumption to go feed the animals in my own stable.  Plans for a relaxed afternoon of doing the chores at my own pace were quickly changed when I realized that Hera the Alpaca was very sick.  As much as I hated to interrupt the Christmas of my favorite alpaca farmers, I knew Aubry & Aaron needed to come see Hera.  Thankfully, we were able to discuss how to provide Hera with care — and she inadvertently made it possible for me to get to see Aubry & Aaron on Christmas Day!

I am very grateful that today — Boxing Day — I am finally feeling like myself again, and have advanced to a diet of chicken noodle soup & Christmas cookies.  I received two very meaningful gifts today.  One is a beautiful wooden bowl made by Amanda’s brother from the old Walnut tree at the barn that was taken down last year.  That was the tree in which my mother had her swing as a little girl, and in which I also had a swing as a child.  The second gift touched my heart beyond measure: Aubry & Aaron had an original picture made of the big red barn, with representations of the three of us in the form of a tractor, an alpaca, and a goat.  I am so fortunate to have friends who are family to me.  It is a remarkable gift to have friends who understand you, and still like you!

Being a single farmer is never easy, being single over the holidays is usually trying, being single when one is sick is miserable . . . And all three at once just about did me in this week.  I am full of appreciation for the friends who texted me to check on my health, stopped by to look after me & cheer me, and made sure the animals carried on with their shenanigans during my recovery.  Sometimes the stories of the farm are neither uplifting nor inspiring; sometimes the achievement is just that the animals & I are still carrying on.  Being so painfully sick over Christmas reminded me keenly how fortunate I am to have such fantastic people supporting me & the farm.  I am very, very blessed!