Bedlam Farm Blog Journal by Jon Katz

9 February

Life With Maria: There’s A Dead Hawk In Our Freezer. There Are Lessons There. I Just Don’t Know What They Are.

by Jon Katz

I was working on some writing in my office when Maria came in and said she had an announcement to make. She wanted to make sure I was paying attention. She sounded quite serious.

“There’s a package in the freezer,” she said cautiously,” and I don’t want you to be surprised. And whatever you do, don’t open it or try to eat it.” I rushed through the various possibilities, but nothing came to mind. “What is it?” I asked.

“It’s the dead hawk,” she said.

In the freezer, I asked?,” stomach sinking, since I’ve never heard those words before in my lengthening life.

“Yup,” she said, “somebody from the state is coming by next week to take the hawk and examine it.”

Not in the freezer, I pleaded. Why not ouside in the barn? Not cold enough she said, we didn’t want it to ripen.

“No, no, not in the freezer,” I said, knowing this was pointless. I can only imagine how long it will take the state of New York’s conservation officers to get her to pick up our dead hawk and take it somewhere for examination. Our hawk could be in the freezer a good long time, and I’m 76, I might have nightmares of living with it for a long time.

Maria was right, I did need to pay attention.

I often open the freezer when Maria isn’t arund and unwrap the nearest frozen thing for lunch or dinner.

That would have been quite a shock to me.  My nerves are a bit wobbly these days.

She just laughed. I’ve never had dead or frozen wildlife in a refrigerator before, it wasn’t something done in New York City or New Jersey, certainly not in Providence, Rhode Island, where I grew up. She seemed surprise by reaction, I know here and can’t comprehend why I wasn’t thrilled to have this new element in our life and home.

It is not unusual in my life for my wife to return from a walk in the woods with stories about dead animals or animal parts she finds in her walks in the woods.  She likes to bring them home, study them, figure out what they are, and take a picture or two for her blog.

She pays attention in the woods, loves it out there, she misses nothing and brings many things hope, although this is the first one to go in the freezer. To see a dead owl and hawk in the same woods was a trauma.

Just last week, she brought home a beaver’s tooth and spotted the dead owl and hawk lying on the ground. This is very unusual. She loves to find skeletal parts of dead animals or pieces of rabbits and small animals found dead in the woods and bring them to me, much as Zinnia brings me her bones.

When she came back for a second look, the owl was gone. Most of the people I grew up with might have run screaming from the woods at the sight of this unprecedented carnage. She thinks I’m the strange one.

I usually try to pretend I’m thrilled, it beats the panic. Maria is making me a better and stronger man, like it or not. I never thought I’d have to shoot a sick lamb in my previous life either, this is a walk in the park.

I shold say we’ve never found a dead hawk on the ground in the woods or a dead owl so far from the road either. It’s a big deal. I’ll be curious to know what the state things if and when they ever show up. I asked Maria how long we might wait with a dead hawk in the freezer. She just shrugged, she found the question odd. Why shouldn’t stay for months?

Maria called the State Department of Environmental Conservation (DEC) and they asked if she could pick up the hawk (the owl is missing) and put it in the freezer, double wrapped, until a DEC officer would come by and take it to the state lab for examination. They couldn’t say when. Yup.

Maria said she’d be happy tkeep it until the DEC could come and get it. So for the next few days or weeks we’ll  be sharing our freezer with a dead hawk tightly wrapped up. I’ve always said I moved her to be closer to nature, but I’m not sure I want to be this close. I’m putting aside my queasiness and inhibition.

And I won’t go near the black package in the right corner of the refrigerator.

This is life here, and we surely are living close to nature, although not usually in our freezer. Our stove is doomed,  being replaced  next  Wednesday after being destroyed by a rat who like to pee in the stove instillation.

I believe this rat has paid for this with her life. I can only imagine what might happen in the freezer.

It’s okay, I thought, at least Maria didn’t find a dead rat out in the wooods – yet.

That didn’t make me feel any easier.

9 February

It’s Warm, Lulu And Fanny Appreciate It…

by Jon Katz

It’s a balmy 50 degrees on the farm; the sun is strong and beautiful, and the donkeys know how to relax. Donkeys are prey animals; they very rarely lie down to make themselves vulnerable, but they feel safe on the farm, and when the sun comes out, they lie down (always together). it was lovely to see them soaking up the sun.

9 February

Guess What? I’ve Been Disabled For Decades. I Just Didn’t Want To Be. Time To Come Out.

by Jon Katz

I never thought of myself as disabled before, not until I learned that for the insurance company to pay for a custom-made brace so I could walk easily again, I had to be certified as disabled. Braces are generally for people with disabilities.

This was a surprise to me, as I never thought of myself in that way, and no podiatrist or doctor had used that term to describe me before all of the surgery on my foot. “Am I disabled?,” I asked one of my nurses. “Well,” she said, smiling, “who do you think $3,000 braces are made for?

(photo above: my brace, being updated.)

She told me what other doctors have since told me, but only when I finally asked:

According to the federal government. The ADA defines an individual with a disability as a person who has a physical or mental impairment that substantially limits one or more major life activities, a person who has a history or record of such an impairment, or a person who is perceived by others as having such an impairment.

I was first given a brace by a podiatrist 30 years ago. It was so uncomfortable and painful that I had to stop wearing it, and my trouble walking continued to worsen. I thought it was hopeless.

Two years ago, I raised the idea of trying again, and Dr.  Daly, my surgical podiatrist, jumped at it.

According to David Messenger, many people are away from the term and don’t wish to see themselves that way. For their sake as well as mine, I need to come out.

People don’t want to be disabled and do not wish to see themselves in that way. Many are embarrassed about it.  

America has its head screwed backward when it comes to health care.

In 20 years of medical work on my foot, no one has ever mentioned the term “disabled” to me or in front of me in the context of my foot. In my mind, I never saw myself in that way.

Some people who might need good health care don’t want it or even know they need it. David Messenger of CPO (above), the maker of my brace, tells me that few people are aware of braces and the immense good that they can do.

I am one of those people. My brace, which David made, has made it comfortable and painless to walk again, ending a long struggle to have a foot I can walk on.

He urged me to spread the word. Many people are entitled to help but don’t want to ask or learn about being disabled.

Walking has always been my sport and exercise; I can’t get comfortable in gyms, with giant TVs blasting bad news and movie star kids working their muscles.

Not my world. David Messenger is eloquent about the fact that people don’t want to see themselves as disabled, so doctors are reluctant to mention it or refer to patients in that way.

The truth is I am disabled. I don’t mind.

I’m not ready to apply for special license plates; I can easily walk to stores and restaurants. But I am indeed disabled.

Lots of people are sicker than I am and need more elaborate braces and support than I need. I don’t feel embarrassed or uncomfortable in any way with this label.

But I also need to recognize the truth about me and, in so doing, support people who are also disabled and don’t even know about the braces and other technologies that can help us walk.

Life is endlessly fascinating; I always learn who and what I am. We tend to think of being “disabled” as injuries and sicknesses that are far worse than mine. But I also want to acknowledge the reality of my life and my lifelong struggle to walk quickly and often.

That is changing. I’m disabled, and it’s time to know and move ahead. We saw David have the pad in my brace updated; my heavy foot flattened the pads.

He added some padding. The brace has been successful, helping save my foot and get me walking again. I am blessed to have that opportunity. Being “disabled” is nothing to cover up, and I never feel sorry for myself or speak poorly of my life.

But I do wish to be authentic and know who I am. “Disabled” is not a term that makes me any better or worse than anyone else, and it’s nothing to braw, crow, or whine about.

It is something to admit and be open about.

9 February

Two Dogs At Rest. Dogs Don’t Need to Shake Hands Or Kiss To Be Friends.

by Jon Katz

I’m drawn to my photos of dogs at rest; something is calming and uplifting about them.

My dogs know how to play, eat, and rest; they do it with enthusiasm and determination.

The only thing that wakes them up at night is if they hear me going for the treat door where the snacks are kept. They know the sound of that. Fate doesn’t appear to love Zinnia much; she is a bit of a standoff. But I notice that outside or in their beds, they like to be close to one another. In the sun, they curl up together and get some rays.

Dogs don’t need to shake hands or kiss to be friendly. They just need to be close.

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