Lessons Learned at the Farm

Jan 30, 2019 by Jeanette Hanscome

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Julie and I arrived at Susy’s cabin a week ago today and have been caring for critters since Thursday afternoon. So far, only the chickens have escaped (more on that later), and Sprinkles the silky terrier turned a potty break into a brief disappearing act only to appear out of nowhere and look us like, What’s all the fuss? We learned that if the blind tree squirrel doesn’t charge the door of his cage at feeding time as predicted, it doesn’t mean one of us has special abilities—it means he’s waiting until his feeder’s guard is down. Our most frustrating challenge has been, of all things, the television, which requires three remotes. We are thankful for Susy’s extensive DVD collection.

I’ve made friends with Miss Marbles’ and a cat who supposedly doesn’t like people, collected eggs, checked off chore lists that included feeding chickens, an owl, rabbits, and indoor, outdoor and semi-hibernating squirrels, and had my train of thought interrupted by the crow of Sheldon the rooster. For groceries other than overpriced milk and bread, and when we wanted to work at a coffee shop, we had to “go to town.”

How appropriate that, when Julie and I spent an afternoon wandering through antique shops and a cool used bookstore, I went home with a first edition copy of Book #8 in the Little House Series.

Tomorrow, we head home to share all sorts of wild stories with our friends and families. For now, here a few things I’ve learned:

Farmers have big families for a reason – If Julie or I had tried to tackle this job on our own, we would’ve felt overwhelmed by the second day. Staying at the cabin alone would get boring and be scary at night. Between the two of us, we finish the feedings quickly. Each of us took on a yuck job—mine is thawing frozen dead mice and dropping them in Marbles’ cage; Julie tackles the litter boxes. When Julie wasn’t feeling well one day, I just did a little more on my own. I remembered Mom’s stories about her mother’s girlhood on a dairy farm, where, if the whole family got sick, the least-sick person did the chores. So at least I wasn’t picking up the slack with a fever. When Rufus decided he was done with using his company manners, feeding him required both of us—one to distract him with praise and adoration and the other to carefully open the latch and dump the food in before he started his impersonation of the bunny from Monte Python and the Holy Grail.

Cooped up is safer, but free-ranger is healthier. Susy’s daughter, Teddy, has a rooster and nine chickens. Usually, they roam the property like a cute little gang of unsupervised children, who go inside on their own as soon as the streetlights come on and wait for a responsible adult to shut the door. Teddy gave us the option of keeping them cooped, which worked for less then twenty-four hours. They literally flew the coop while Julie and I were preparing to “go to town.” That’s when we learned that “It’s worse than herding cats” should be changed to “It’s worse than herding chickens.” When we got tired of playing tag, we called Susy, who put Teddy on the phone, who told us to declare a Free-Range Day and do whatever we planned on. They would be fine. “Just shut the coop after they go in for the night.” If a predator came on the property, Sheldon would rally the hens until they all hid under the deck or in the trees. If we lost one, Teddy would not hold us responsible. We were staying smack dab in the middle of The Circle of Life. According to scientific research, it’s healthier for chickens to be outdoors and face the occasional stress spike of encountering a predator than to be cooped up together with constant low-level stress. I had an immediate flashback to a two-week vacation with relatives that felt like four weeks. They have free-ranged ever since and we enjoy the fun of watching their antics. We haven’t lost a single one!

We all have issues. I tried explaining to Rufus that going around with a chip on his shoulder isn’t going to make his life any easier. Yes, being blind is hard, but that doesn’t give him a free pass to be rude. So far, he isn’t buying it, but the message might sink in eventually. Marbles is also blind and clearly at peace with God’s plan for her life. She has found a sense of purpose as an Animal Ambassador. She knows deep down that she is safer with Teddy than out in the wild where she was found injured and malnourished. Rufus could learn a thing of two from her attitude. And then there is Baby Girl, who struggles with trust after being rescued from a cat hoarder. She must have known that I understood and wouldn’t treat her like a messed-up kitty, because she came right to me. I consider it ironic that two friends who’ve had to overcome a lot of difficult things are caring for creatures who need so much extra love, and probably a good wildlife counselor.

Providing for God’s creatures feels good. Every morning, Julie or I puts nuts on what I call The Play Structure—a cluster of feeding stations for squirrels that Teddy nursed back to health and slowly released back into the wild. They can’t be considered pets, but they know where to find the good snacks. This morning, I evenly divided a bag of nuts into the bowls. My favorite part of the process was seeing the messes of broken shells that told me squirrels were here.

[bctt tweet=”Providing for God’s creatures feels good. ” username=”JHanscomeWriter”]

I love the happy chatter of the chickens when they know I’m coming with food. It’s kind of creepy when I go outside and they start following me around expecting me to toss them something, but I’m trying to take it as a compliment.

As scary as it is to feed Rufus, it feels satisfying to give him what he can’t get on his own and remind him, We aren’t giving up on you just because you’re acting like a little punk today.

The dogs are used to sleeping with their owners, so Sprinkles has been sleeping in my room, and Julie has Athena, Teddy’s German shepherd.

It has been tiring at times, but good-tiring.

We all go through times when we need others to fill in the gaps for what we can’t do on our own, or to give us reassurance when those we’re used to having around go away for a while. This has been mine and Julie’s roles this week; we’ve just been there chickens and attack squirrels instead of for people.