December 16, 2008 – As would be expected, getting torrents of messages about my decision to send the steers and cow to slaughter to provide food for a teenage homeless shelter nearby. It was a complicated decision, made for lots of reasons. I do not regret it.
  The messages ranged from sad and understanding to hostile and self-righteous, as is also to be expected. I am always amazed at how many people are certain what other people should do.
 Still, I don’t want to be misleading. The messages have been overwhelmingly supportive, sympathetic and thoughtful, and I appreciate it.
  It is useful to read all of them, or as many as I can get to.
   Meg wrote that she was unhappy with my decision and would probably not read the blog any longer, at least for awhile, but she said that “no one can tell you what to write or what do do with your life, but does this change who you are, and who you were before?”
  An interesting question. Not really for me to say. I think it reflects both. Much as I loved him, Elvis did not make for a rational pet on this farm. And I am not especally proud of the way in which I simply acquired two steers and a cow and then scrambled to build shelters and buy tractors to handle them.
  Elvis got three good years in, but the costs and work involved in caring for him and for Harold and Luna were becoming overwhelming. People who see the nice photos – my doing of course – do not see the problems with cost, waste, mud and manure and the movement of enormous amounts of hay.
  With the cows and the goats gone, the farm is quieter, more to scale, more manageable, and that is important. I am glad to spent more time with Lulu and Fanny, the barn cats, the sheep, and of course, the dogs, where my heart and focus is.
  First and foremost, I am a writer and the farm has to be a place where I can work. I almost lost that.
  I also have to say that while I am pleased that people find the farm an escape, and sometimes see it as an idyllic retreat from a stressful life, it is not that for me. It is my home and workplace. It is very real, and it reflects life, rather than hides from it.
  A writer’s job is not simply to amuse and entertain. A writer’s job, like a photographer, is to think, and to get people to think and be challenged. I don’t provoke for its own sake, but I believe a writer should provoke thought, even argument.
  Some people don’t like it, and that is why the site is free – they can go at anytime. And if they are uncomfortable, they should.
   Others are disappointed, but would rather live in the real world, for all its faults. I do not share the view of animals as little people, or people with fur and skin. Their lives, their fates, their places are different for me.  I am glad they will feed homeless kids. The shelter director said his budget is miserable and he is always struggling to find food. This will make a huge difference, he told me.
   It is too soon to see if I am changed, but I doubt it. Next week I will go look at the shelter where the meat is going, and I feel good about that. it is badly needed. And perhaps the farm will be a calmer, easier place to write.
  It is not for me to decide who I am. I think that has to speak for itself in my work, my photos, my friends and family, my life. I have lots of work to do on myself, and am hard at it. As to this decision, it was a good one for me, and for the farm, and I would do it again. I follow my rule, as usual: what matters is not what other people think, but what I think. The standard is self-respect.