little souls...be kind

On Friday, while traveling a back road home from work, I came

upon a snapping turtle that had been flipped over on its shell.  I was 

startled to see it, as spring has erupted in Wisconsin without any 

gradual getting used to.  I would not be able to live with myself if I 

didn't turn around to see if I could help.  I grabbed a sturdy stick and

took a closer look...no movement, appeared it had been grazed by a car.

I gently touched the 🐢with the stick....again no movement.  Then

slowly I saw it move the front legs.  I took the stick, lifted it back over & 

set it in the direction of the nearby field.  It moved forward then stopped 

to just gaze at me.  And, I cried. 

addendum....fawn update

Sometimes stories have a happy next chapter!

And so it is with the prior post...."beyond my reach".

I received a message at my office this morning from Dave.

He had stopped at our neighbor's place this morning.
They spend many hours on their porch, with an avid eye
for the comings & goings of farm & wild life.
They knew the doe had been hit....

And they shared that her twin fawns had been out in the dusk since,

playing in the soy beans across the road from our farm & near a creek.

My day begins & ends with a happy heart!

This little fawn is a 1948 Gilbert Boese paperweight.

beyond my reach

Earlier this week, a doe was hit in front of our farm.

I heard the thud, Dave checked in with the truck...they 

were fine, the deer was not.  Remarkably, Dave noticed all of our
barn cats out in the front yard in the dusk...near to where the
doe died.  He said it felt quite odd, like perhaps they had heard her
last call & come out, checking on her too.

The next morning Dave moved the doe to the woods across from us.

That evening, just after dark, he heard a bleating sound coming from the 

corn field near our driveway, near where the doe was hit.

We are certain she left a fawn.  

We sought out a nature rescue in Colfax equipped to accept orphaned deer.

She advised us on how to contain the fawn, what to give it (Gatorade),

and to call her if we found it.  

Dave walked the area where he heard the sound the next morning.  Today, I 

walked the corn field and the meadow at its edge.  Walking, calling out softly, 

looking for any sign of trampled ground, of a scared fawn.  But there are acres 

of corn planted in tunneled rows.  There is dense growth at the edge & around.  

To find an animal, even the size of a fawn, is like seeking a needle in a haystack.

So we wait & listen.  We will wait & hope.  Nature cannot be controlled, 

it moves in its own way.  It breaks our heart when we are helpless.  Like that nest blown 

from the treetop, that rabbit in the tallons of a hawk, that mother combing the

fields for a speckled baby.  

it was only a matter of time

The look on Dave's face was pretty priceless when I pulled into the farm Friday. "Can you believe it?" or something similar came out of his mouth. That was followed with, "did you get my message?" As I ended my work day out of the office, and since the message appeared to have been left on my work phone........no, wasn't quite sure what was up.

So here is the story:

Dave was mowing the front yard around 1:00. He noticed a vehicle pull over near our little orchard. Likely Dave figured they were admiring his mowing prowess, so on he drove on the rider. The vehicle sped ahead, nearer Dave.....they stopped, so he stopped, awaiting the obvious compliments that would come. Window down, head out of window, they yelled, "There's a bear in your back yard!"

Dave heads around the house.....on foot, to come within 30 feet of a pretty large black bear preparing to climb onto our deck. Dave sees bear. Bear sees Dave. Both likely screamed (I added that) and bear took off through our meadow, through the field, across the road, past the car that had been watching the whole thing......and up into the hills across from our farm.

It was only a matter of time until we had a visit by a bear
-----our distinct hope is that it will be the first and the last.

there's an eagle in our orchard

The day called for antiquing. Winter seemed to be arm wrestling with spring, and by all accounts, was winning. So we got in our little blue car and headed south. By south, Tomah, maybe Oakdale, in our sights. Lunch out, chit chat by phone with Ian as we traveled, and antiquing. Just an hour away, and less snow....appeared that spring had even won in Black River Falls.

Home by supper, still chores to do, still snow on our ground. Plans that had waited all day were getting checked off our list. Finally appeared that perhaps the day would come to a close with a bowl of popcorn, a warm blanket & HGTV as the final to do to be done.

Looking out to the orchard as the popcorn popped, a golden movement in the snow. The neighbor's golden retriever (nemesis to our animals) is heading back to our fenced goats. Dave heads out with snow shovel in hand. That gets settled, popping begins again, and from the kitchen window I see Luna, our sable barn cat, climb up a fence post to check on a bluebird house.....she contentedly sits atop the post between the pasture and the field. Scan back to the orchard to see something distinctly white & black against the snow. "There's an eagle in our orchard"....and a cat atop a nearby post. Dave heads out again. The eagle flies off.

Snow is to blame for it all. That is my conclusion. We (animals included) have all lost patience. Dogs & cats are seeking sport. Eagles are seeking prey easily spotted against the white. And I am thinking about a long extension cord & a blow dryer! And Dave is hoping I stay away from windows until spring truly arrives.

escape

Last night the new kittens (Luna, Meadow & Pearl) - now 3 months old-found the courage to run ALL the way up to me at the porch. In my "worry book" this marks a new chapter on inquisitiveness before readiness.

Then, as I walked (well ran) the babies back to the barn (yes-they will run with me....not a pretty sight, but it gets the job done) I spot something black & white in the meadow. Not a skunk as you might have been thinking (although I could smell skunk in the air just the other morning).....no, an escaped goat - yes, Ralphie. In bare feet I try to coax him out of all the wonderful yummies he has just gained access to. As I reach for him, I also find nettle...a terrible stinging on my hand. I coerce him back in the fence with the promise of a treat-a scoop of feed....which becomes a jumping activity as I attempt to now keep two excited goats (Charlie has also arrived) from trampling my un-shoed feet. Dave arrives home, I turn the goat fencing issue over to him with an "I'm done".

Woke early this a.m., down the stairs..."hmm, why is my McCoy facing the corner?". Cat had trapped a mouse in said corner, broom & gloves & "don't hurt it" later.....and mouse is back in the corn where it belongs. I suggest a far flung toss of the little guy.

Kittens running amuck, goat testing my patience, mouse flying through the air...
Escape is on my mind....just is.

The bear went over the mountain...

So - rumor has it that there lives a bear behind our farm......a real live, big old black bear.  By the neighbor's calculations -- a 500-600 pound bear!!  That's a big bear.

With the mild winter, the bear has been awake & rooting about.  With the lack of snow, it has also been crossing the road to drink from the creek across the way.  Rodney has seen it three times in December.

So, I think, what do I do if my path should cross with a big old bear.  Even though the facts note that black bear generally are people shy ---- the facts also state that one should climb a tree - a tall tree.  It also states to not try to out run a bear -- as they are faster than they appear. 

So, if anyone should happen by the farm and see a Kari on the roof of the barn -- do not question how I got there -- just know why I got there!

totally complicated

To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying

to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

I gather sweet & charming -- it is what I do. At flea markets, in people's garages, in overgrown farmyards, in dark crannies -- I am searching for sweetness & charm -- collecting, bringing home to display or sell at the antique mall or at my biannual Barn Sales. I covet these things - I do. And, I live on this farm -- where sunflowers grow out of weed beds, kittens sleep with goats, and a day may just begin with the song of a wren at your window. If I look beyond the daily work, the worn edges -- it is often quite magical, certainly very sweet.

But, by day - I work for a Community Action Agency - an agency that works to alleviate poverty -- not so sweet, not so charming -- and totally complicated. Home is sanctuary for me -- where I run to to get away from injustice, small thinking, and sometimes overwhelming work. When I can't fix the world, I certainly know I can weed the garden. When I can't understand the turning of a back, I can hold a kitten. When I wake at 2 a.m. wondering why & how, I can look at my little guys all around me -- little friends on shelves & table tops that reach out and say, "be still my heart".


One night I was driving along a single lane & busy stretch of highway --- cars streaming fast in both directions....dark, dark night. Two eyes were caught in my headlights -- those of a raccoon -- running down the center line -- caught between two lanes of cars traveling fast. Running, running -- right on the line, right down the middle of the road. There wasn't anything I could do, but try not to hit the poor fellow. I wanted to stop, but didn't know quite how. I wanted to help, but didn't know quite how. That image haunts me. In my sweet Kari world, that raccoon eventually found a way off the center line -- moved left or right and ran for his life off the road, safe in the woods - curled up in a tree for the rest of the night. In the real world, I am guessing the story didn't really end that way. Totally complicated -- it all is, it all is.

So -- to stay true to oneself -- we mix up all this stuff -- the good, the bad, the sweet, the ugly....stir and stir and stir and stir. Sometimes we run down the middle of the road, sometimes we grow in the middle of the weeds, sometimes we curl up in a tree and pray that sanctuary will remain until morning.....and sometimes we collect little friends, little things so sweet & charming to remind us that all can be simple & pure & nice. Totally complicated. It is.

That's what I think today.

A little ditty about "cow whispering"...

Who ever knows what adventures await...such was indeed the case the other day.  Started on my way to work, ventured past a neighbor's farm -- and there were several dozen cows in the corn field.  Now if I have learned anything living in the country, one thing I know is that cows and growing corn -- not a mix.  Better turn around.  Traveling back past the farm, there is my neighbor & his daughter, also now in the corn field.  Better grab my mud shoes.  Arrive at the farm with a "how can I help?"  "Stand between the buildings" is my job. 

Now -- here is how this goes -- they were going to run these "on the loose - goosey goose" cows back toward the barn -- if they ran between the outbuildings toward the road, guess I was supposed to stop them.  So around the corner they come --- not quite a stampede -- but holly cow --- cows are big!  One runs my way, I step aside.  The daughter runs after it -- I yell over to her, "thought I was going to scare it"....she shares back while running after the cow that that is kind of the idea.  O.K. -- now my role is clear.  I am to be a Cow Whisperer -- actually, a Cow Clapper.  See -- to keep those cows on their path, I was going to need to be bigger than a cow -- louder voice, clap of the hands -- wide arms.  Need I say, not another cow got past me -- "come on, in the barn" clap, clap -- wide arms.  A dozen collected.  Hands bruised.  Job well done.

That left about another 10 or so way across the field -- on a little munching adventure.  "How about I drive over to Barka Road and move the rest back to the farm?" was my idea.  "O.K." was the reply.  And I was off -- drive, drive, drive, climb thru the tall grass along the road edge...head toward the big cows who are not in a fence...but standing munching in front of me...their home is over the crest beyond the scope of reason.  At that moment it occurred to me that this idea could fail miserably.  Those cows had many choices:  eat, run to the road (in two directions), eat....  Oh well, made myself bigger than a cow -- and guess what -- they turned around and began to head back to their farm.  What a sight this must have been -- city raised Kari -- arms outstretched, moving a small herd of BIG cows across a field.  I hoped at this moment that someone must be watching, quite impressed....people driving by saying, "look at that!" (not "look at that?")  I was indeed cow whispering...or at the very least -- acting odd enough that they decided home was even better than fresh corn leaves.

And so it was, I could now say I survived a tornado in the spring and I herded cows in the summer.  Just wish I would have grabbed me a towel for a cape when I grabbed my mud shoes.  Feeling just a bit like "Cow Woman" --herder of all things grand.....at least for the moment.

That's my story, and I stand behind it
(yelling "move" with my arms spread wide...) 
Cross that off my bucket list.

Only on a Tuesday...

Tonight I was sitting on the deck, pruning the pansies.  There had been this trilling sound coming from the cottonwood tree along the driveway since supper time -- enough to cause a stir in the house cats and to bring Hope, the barn cat over.  I had gone over to the tree once with binoculars in hand (this is one big tree) and figured it was just some baby bird making a new sound I hadn't heard before.

Anyway, as I am sitting out back, minding my own pruning business -- along drives Dave down our driveway -- and there suddenly appears to be little critters under his car.  My first thought:  kittens!!!!  I hollered for him to stop.  Well, they were kits -- but not of the barn variety...rather of the "get into the trash" variety....raccoon babies to be exact.  That was the origin of all that shrilling noise. 

I now understand why raccoons so often end up along the edge of roads -- they have a thing for cars -- and these babes were not coming out from under Dave's car.  They had run out to it and were not leaving this blue "momma".

So, Dave grabbed a long rubber hose to do "some convincing" ... and the next thing I know, he is leading one of the raccoon babies down the driveway back to the tree.  One raccoon remains behind, crying.  I grab a long grape vine I had just pruned from along the back of the house...and led the other baby down the driveway.  Literally we dragged, they followed. 

So, I am not quite as eloquent as Sterling North -- our wonderful Edgerton, Wisconsin author that wrote about a young boy's adventures with Rascal the raccoon.  But perhaps you can get the picture: Dave with a long rubber hose leading a baby raccoon, and me with a long grape vine doing the same thing.  Cross that off my Bucket List.

Kari