Misfits on the run!

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A post shared by Katherine Dunn / Apifera Farm (@katherinedunnapiferafarm) on Nov 29, 2018 at 5:22am PST

Birdie update: patience and the goose is named

Birdie and My Grace this morning-still smiling

Birdie continues to improve, with some days of what feel like set backs, but it is all part of the healing process of nerves damaged by the nasty Menigeal worm.

Each time I talk to my vet, I seem to understand more about this dreaded parasite, and how different it is than other worms. For one, it does not leave the body when it is killed, like stomach worms do. Nerve damage recovery is a long process-only after a year will I assess what we have. I read about one llama that was much worse off than our Birdie, completely down every day, and a year later after the farm did everything they could for her, she simply stood up one day and lived to be 15.

If Birdie can get up on her own, that is the key. Even if she is permanently wobbly, it will be okay. If she were a working guard animal, it would be a problem, or if she were a breeder, which of course she isn't.

So when the vet was here to put down Rosie, we also had her assess Birdie [along with a Cushing Test and shots for The Teapot]. The vet and I were concerned that we had gotten all the worms in our first round of treatment. After that treatment, Birdie was doing well, but then two weeks later, her hind end weekend again and it seemed so sudden. So we gave her a different dewormer-a one time shot that the vet gave her-and we dosed her with something for anti-inflammatory via a shot. We also have switched her anti-inflammatory medicine because the one we were giving daily can cause ulcers in camelids. It means I'm giving Birdie six pills a day instead of one shot. I find she already accepts the pills pretty well, with my 'firm guidance'.

And the good news is, she has been standing every morning when I get to the barn which is a relief. And walking better, less 'drunken walk' some call it. She is eating well, and she has her goose nurse.

By the way, I have named the goose My Grace. If she doesn't lay eggs in spring, I guess she will be M'Lord!

So thank you to the many who are showing concern for Birdie. I don't wish this on any llama. I will do whatever I have to to help her through this, and remaining positive, even on the bad days. I must show her my intent each day-that we are in this together-and I know she is trying to.

Possible Matching Donations at stake

Tomorrow is Giving Tuesday. I know you probably know that because every time you open your email or social media you are being shown all the places you can give too.

But do those places have a Love Llama? Or acrobatic goats? Grumpy pigs that fly off to heaven?

If you want to give on our Facebook fundraiser, there is a chance those monies will be matched. Facebook will be matching every dollar for registered non profits, beginning at 8AM EST on Tuesday, up to 7 Million dollars total. We have to try! There will be a lot of non profits competing for those dollars.

And no matter what, your donations are always used wisely and needed on a every day basis for feed, materials, vet care, routine medicines and more. We do not take a salary and we both have full time jobs to support our simple lifestyle and also have time and energy and love to help the animals and our non profit.

We could not do this without your support.

I have many repeat donors, and I so love them all for coming to bat over and over-that includes all you Apifera Angels that send cat food.

I often see people saying, "I wish I could give more"...but I always say that all money is helpful to us! $5 buys half a bag of feed. It all adds up. The small donations are bread and butter. When we get a bigger donation, it is absolutely Misfitingly Magnificent! But all donations help keep our account flowing in a healthy way, and keep it so we don't scrimp on animal care which is the most important.

Of course, you can give right here on the blog if you are not a Facebook person. No matter how, or when, we will appreciate you donations.

Hoof stomps, tail swishes and pig squeals!

Belly, I hereby declare you a Goddess

I love this photo of me, I was probably about three. What I love about it is I see my spirit, and intention in this photo. I do not feel any need to shame my body. That would come years later when I understood what weight charts were and that some kids wore chubbies.

My body grew up, right along with me, and in time I learned to like my body, and I took care of it. And I told myself I'd never let it get out of shape. That all seemed to be working just fine...But hormonal shifts wreaked havoc and despite my efforts a 20 pound weight gain occurred since I married Martyn some 15 years ago, and I lost my hormones of course. I still ate like a bird, pretty much.

But what I'm working on more than losing weight, is to lose an inch. I threw out my scale last month. If I moved the scale one inch on the floor I could weight 10 pounds heavier, or lighter. Who knows what I weighed. I always weighed about 10 pounds more than the weight charts, even when I was 'thin' and young in my young adult years.

I came to hate being strapped in-mentally-to this magic number on a stupid scale, a scale that was unable to really weigh anything anyway. So I killed the scale, literally.

I walk, I do my chores, I probably do more 'steps' than the average person just in my barn chores. I get what I need to do to 'lose' weight. But post menopause, I don't care what anyone says, it is very difficult, and I've come to this point in my 60 years of life where I say to myself,

What do I want to do with my time today? What do I want to do with my strength, my mind, my hands today?

So I've gained weight.

There is not one animal in the barnyard that cares. My husband is completely supportive and has seen me try, and agonize, even cry when I could not take off pounds any more. I used to lose weight if I needed to by 'intending' it, not anymore. I am a believer in Nature and Nature knows exactly how to store fat on me at this stage of my life so if I ever did trip in The Wood and be stuck there until someone found me, I would probably outlive my thinner self of my 40's.

SO, back to this photo. That little child, I wish I could have her sitting here with me right now. I guarantee she would not be worried about her weight, or her sweet belly sticking ever so slightly out of her pants. I could show her my belly. I'm sure she would look at it as some kind of solidarity of sisterhood.

The other day I was lying in bed, about to get up, and I noticed the skin on my arm looked older and was more wrinkly and loose due to age. Something in me, well, I put my lips on my arm and gave it a gentle kiss.

My legs are still strong and carry me to the barn, my arms are still strong and help me carry an old goat out of the cold, my eyes still see and there is still much to be amazed by. My waistline is thicker, and I hope to hold it at bay, but I am tired of fighting. I just want to bend down and kiss my waistline, but it is rather difficult, so I now have a regime where I pat it, just like I pat my dog, donkeys or the pony shaped all short and stout. It is my Goddess belly.

My belly is full of nurturing food, and not a lot of it, and tonight I'll feed it some wine.

Heaven just got a bit grumpier...goodbye, Rosie

"She is gone," I told them.

As I sat with the body I could here the news spreading amongst the animals,

"Rosie is dead,"

"Rosie has died,"

"It's over,"

and on and on until the last creature was informed.

I placed a drop of oil on her body,

"May you not feel any more pain, and may you never be cold, and may you find a good cloud, and may you see Stevie again," I said.

I wrapped her body in her pink blanket, made just for her, embroidered with words so carefully placed,

"The World's Grumpiest But I Am Fine As I Am Pig ~ Rosie"

We placed her in our clam sled, and began the slow march to the front garden, a place we had gathered before over the last couple of years. As the animals stood in front of the freshly dug hole in the Earth, Martyn helped me lower Rosie's body into the ground, her pink blanket covering her to keep her forever warm. I placed a shroud over her eyes, a shroud made from Assumpta's wool. Burial items had come from afar, and I placed each one, thoughtfully, and carefully around her body. I placed feathers with her for flight, a toy llama for safety, a pig for a reminder of what she once was, and on the top, a red rose.

Earnest stood of to the side, he had dressed in his formal cape and bow tie. The goose, who had slept amongst Rosie in the last two weeks, also came. White Dog watched. Pino and Paco both said their goodbyes,

"I remember when you arrived," said Pino. "I remember when you could run."

"I understand you," said Paco. He placed a slip of paper in the grave, with a special, private poem to Rosie.

Earnest said not one word.

We covered the body in ancient soil, perhaps Civil War heros who once lived here had touched it long ago.

When the final dirt was spread, Opie pointed to the sky,

"Look, it's Rosie, she has beautiful polk-a-dots now!"

The animals had paid their final respects, and as they left they all bowed to the nearby grave of The Head Troll. Martyn returned to the house.

I knelt down, and whispered one last time,

"Oh, Rosie!"

As I returned to the house, it was still, and clear, and crisp. I heard a rustling, clouds appeared over head, tree branches snapped, and a distinctive hrumf-grrr-arrrr-hrumpf sound echoed in my hear.

Heaven just got a little grumpier.

To recognize this day, every day

Opie takes a stroll in the fresh snow

Thanksgiving, the ritual of taking a day to observe thankfulness, is a tradition for many Americans. But I've always found the biggest blessing I've acquired over time in my own life is the realization that each day has moments strung together of gratitude. The 'strings of gifts' are things I can hold onto in times of pain, fear or turmoil.

I've always been an optimist, even as a little girl–not everyone has that. Blessed to have two parents who were stable and loved me, and gave me the building blocks of a good life–not everyone has that. Blessed to have health, knock on wood–not everyone has that. Graced by an imagination that allows me to share my soul's longings and light–not everyone has that.

I get to live with animals and help them and they return the favor by percolating my art and stories.

I'm not rich, so far from it, but I have a house and firewood, a loving friend in my husband.

I can walk, and move, and lift, and see.

I smell food cooking. I have food.

I have people I've never met that somehow stick with my intentions and support both my work and farm.

I have acquired new skills with age-like finally walking away from toxic people well versed in disguises.

I miss my mother, and father, but I had them to miss, and I see them in Earth messages all the time and have learned to communicate with them in a more caring way.

I have friends that lift me up. I have friends.

I have a donkey. I have four donkeys. And a horse.

My llama is standing, I found a goose, I can laugh at the ducks, a chubby pony awaits, goats run amok, pigs flop daily. I have milk to give Mr. Mosely. I have Mr. Moseley.

The wind still blows, the sea is near–I can feel it on my skin, I smell it.

I'm still here.

Inspired by...well, you know who

Now available at the shop

The snowflake said,

"Goose, lead your llama back to the barn."