I look at the news and shiver sometimes. I don’t wish to hide from the troubles of the world and avoid them, but our farm keeps me grounded, focused, sane and hopeful.
Whatever the truth is, I prefer to face it.
There is so much good here, and around here. The animals teach me how to live every single day.
Animals that we live with and know well know us and trust us in a very particular way. One of the beautiful things about the farm is that we have a chance to know animals in a way few people get to do.
They adapt, conserve, accept, and they love, for sure.
Living with animals has been good for us and certainly good for them.
Maria and I both set the tone of the farm, but I have to be honest, Maria has a magical way with animals that I recognized when she first came to work for me at the first Bedlam Farm and agreed to take care of my sheep and donkeys and cats and chickens.
They call people like her animal “whisperers,” but I’m not crazy about the name. She understands how to communicate with them and how to listen from them.
Nothing was the same after Maria came, not for me, for her, for them. My vision of a peaceable kingdom, an oasis in a raucous world, began to emerge, although it went far there than I dared to imagine.
I love my animals, but I didn’t see them in the way Maria did, and I didn’t open to them in the way she does. I had a businesslike relationship with them. Men can be kind, but it is almost always hard for them to let go and open up.
My relationship with animals was transactional, except for the dogs.
The dog herded the sheep, the sheep lambed, the donkeys guarded the sheep. I was very kind to them, but except for my huge steer Elvis, I wasn’t especially close to any of them (except Winston the Rooster.)
I came home from chores today and found Maria in another one of those iconic Bedlam Farm positions that made me grateful for what I have..
She was in the midst of something that is really not supposed to happen in the animal world. She had a jar of pumpkin seeds that have been lying around for a while.
We don’t throw any food out in the garbage any longer; they either go to a donkey or sheep or a compost heap. Nothing is wasted.
Maria was sitting on the steps and she was surrounded by animals – a barn cat, a moody border collie, two hens. They were all in a semi-circle around her, they were trusting and patient.
All of them knew she had the seeds and wanted them; none of them lunged or pushed or fought for a single one.
Maria talked to them and took turn turns tossing the seeds to them.
A handful for Fate, a handful for Minnie, a barn cat, two handfuls for our hens. Everybody waited for their turns, sat patiently, watched her closely.
This is a commonplace scene here at the farm, but sometimes I don’t give it the attention it deserves. It is a beautiful thing to see, and it always gives me hope for humanity.
If they can do it, we can do it. Maria has some magic when it comes to animals; I never tire of it, forget it, or take it for granted.