Tails and Tidings: The Ovoid of Life

 It is the end of winter. The migrating birds are migrating, the crocuseses are crocusing,  and the air is filled with the sound of squawking hens, and the neighbor, pounding on the back door, shouting, "Your dog got out and she's killing your chickens!"?

 Yep. I'm sad to write, last week started with our big, muddy, puppy giddily galloping around the yard, snapping our hens' necks with a playful snatch n' shake technique we dog owners recognize from any game of tug-o-war. The whole event was shocking, and left us mourning the ladies we loved so. There were five casualties, when all was said and done.

Silver Lining: In times of strife, you learn a lot about the people around you. We would have lost our whole flock that morning, if our neighbor hadn't come to alert us. Also, Zelda's victims were cleaned, plucked, and given to a family who really appreciated the free organic food, thanks to my friend and farm wife mentor, Tawnya. The most helpful thing any of us can have on a journey of learning is someone who knows what they are doing and is inclined to help. We are humbly grateful for the smart, kind people in our lives. They kept a bad situation from getting worse, and even made the best of it.  

Back to Bloody Monday: At first, I was thinking like a pet owner. My girls! No more would I giggle at the sight of Rosalyn's cheekpuffs, or marvel at Pilar's beautiful silver-laced feathers. Anya, known as Onion, was our successful attempt to bring a Buff Orpington into the mix, without having  her end up a rooster. Pippi, who came to us in a post-rooster backwoods-style chicken trade, and fancied herself in charge (although we all know Hot Sauce is running the joint.) And the lovely Vilma, Blue Wyandotte who classed up the yard with her distinguished demeanor. I was heartbroken that I didn't do a better job of keeping them safe.

Then I started thinking like a farmer. A hungry farmer, who hasn't paid more than $20 for eggs in the last year. Five birds left, but six egg-eating mouths. We'd like to get an egg per person, per day, so we'd need at least six chickens. You do the math. Unless the guinea pigs suddenly start laying, we're in need of more fowl.

So we got two new chicks, because you just never know.*

*Step one in the process of starting over: When planning for the future, factor in a little failure.**

**Since beginning to compose this blog post, right after getting the chicks, we also lost Hot Sauce, our Rhode Island Red. The despondency-turned-resiliency cycle that kicked in around here went by so quickly, I nearly scrapped this whole post to make a big lofty one about never giving up. Instead, I'll just say that here, quickly. Never give up. Not until you're dead. If you give up while you're living, your days after that will be miserable disfunction, even if they aren't chockfull of frustrating failure. A dream, burning within you, is your best fuel. It may never be realized, but you are better off  powered by that than hapless resignation for the rest of your days.R.I.P, Hot Sauce, you elegant backyard boss. 

 Yo, you just got a blog post in your blog post, dawg.

 Returning to the issue at hand, and the regular-sized font: This was supposed to be the first year in a few when we would skip the fun of bringing chicks home from the farm store, Sure, they are cuteness walking, and I love that spring around the corner means the cheeping of fluffy little baby birds, but we were at capacity, until last Monday, that is. So, after feeling sad for a bit, I redirected my energy, dusted off the heat lamp and the tiny feeder I made years ago, and set up a brooder (a good place for chicks to stay warm during their first few weeks.)

Chicks need warmth, but they also need their area to have a cool spot. This is because they need to be able to find the right spot that's just the right temperature. During the day, the temperature around them fluctuates, and they will keep the all-important correct body heat level if given freedom to move from one temperature to the another. This is why they have a heat lamp focused on only one half of their cage.

The cage is the other thing. Usually, a high-walled container is ideal for a brooder, especially if it's going to have more than two chicks in it. I opted to put a high-walled area in the cage for them: an old basket with a door cut out of the side. They like to perch on it, and nap.

On the other side of the cage, we have the food, and grit, and water. The cool side of the cage is the best place for these things because the water can get murky under the warm light. I suspect all sorts of microscopic life forms might flourish in both their food and their water if it's warmer than necessary.

The sudden loss of most of our flock still makes me sad, but it's hard to stay that way when watching Parkour and Sasha, (Gold and Black Stars). Chicks are entertaining and engrossing. They're kind of reptilian, despite their eye-searing fluffy cuteness. Just like miniature chickens, they cock their heads, perch, scratch, preen their wing feathers and do battle: hilarious, wee warfare in which there is cranky peeping and tiny wing flapping. We call them our little dinosaurs.

They make me think of death and life. You usually see those terms reversed. Life, then death, right? But what if death is put first? Get out your mental pitchforks and help me turn this compost pile of ideas. Flip the cycle upside down and think of it that way, death almost seems like birth, because it gives way to what is next. As John Lennon said, "Life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans." I agree with John, even when what happens while you're planning, is death. So, while I feel sadness at the unexpected end of something, it is me mourning a lost plan, and plans are just plans. They aren't life.

Life is waking up and stretching your wings. It's tunneling your way out of a boring place, to run free. It's sensing danger and acting instinctively to save yourself, even if you can't. It's sensing food and acting instinctively, to hunt. It's running and hiding in fear. It's running and hurting with glee. It's helping and comforting those around you shocked by a day's events. It's thinking of tomorrow, with your stomach. It's starting over and over again, and getting better at it each go-around. It's a flow of behaviors that continue as the organisms who carry them out cyclically appear and recede. People will always make plans, dogs will always chase things,  and chicks will always be cute, and welcome.

Tails and Tidings: Eight Puppies are One

Today is many things. It is the seventh of December, one week into the last month of 2012. The small print on today's square inch of your nearest calendar will tell you that it is also Pearl Harbor Day, a significant day in United States history. Seventy one years ago today, a U.S. Naval Base in Hawaii was bombed, setting off U.S. involvement in what was our planet's second World War.

One year ago today, history was made here at the BU. Our house was puppy-bombed, and I met this lovely lady.

Zelda, our youngest, biggest dog, was born in our living room one year ago, along with her seven brothers and sisters. Their mom was a shelter dog in need of a foster home with room for nine, as she was abandoned while pregnant. We loved her right away, named her Holly, and did our best to take care of her. There was even a time when we thought she might stay with us after her puppies left, but it didn't work out that way. She needed us for a short time only, and now lives near Portland. I contacted her new humans back when she went to live there, and she seemed to settle in right away.

 PUPDATE:

Jimmy, one of the two boys, is living it up a few miles north of me, at the Sea Haven Motel & Guest House, with his devoted parents, and big brother, DJ. He is a lucky boy who runs on the beach and meets new people regularly.

Judy, the firstborn, made a big move to New Mexico, where she is making me jealous, getting to spend so much time with my friend forever, Leah, and her magical wonderful family of beautiful interesting people. Also, of the pups, Judy probably enjoys the most sunshine.

The following pupdate about Maggie Mae is lifted from Maureen's (who adopted Jimmy) comment below.

"Maggie Mae is happy, safe and living the ubber urban life in PDX with her owners, Sue & Rich, and their complement of cats. She has traveled to the San Juan Islands and other points north, alas, still staying in the cooler, less sunshiny, NW."

 I appreciate the information she can provide, as close friends with Maggie's adoptive parents. It was delightful to meet Sue and Rich, and feel so good about a puppy's future.

Zelda stayed here and has proven herself to be smart, sweet, and able to fold herself into a flattened dogpacket so that she may will herself through the centimeter of space under the fabric of a pig wire fence. I need to find a use for that talent of hers.

Good thing she is abundantly charming; always coming when called, even when liberated from leash or backyard. She is brilliant, and can access that intelligence for quick learning, even though her brain has been a clanging storm of puppy for the last year. I love her dearly, and feel fortunate that she came into existence in our home, like two of my kids.

I also marvel at her size and strength. It's been said before, but what hasn't? They grow so fast.

The remaining pups:

Unfortunately, two of the female puppies are not still with their adoptive homes. They were returned to the care of the shelter. As much as I would have loved for it to work out, I have been in the position to have to return a dog to the place from whence it was adopted. I hated myself too much in those moments to bring up judgment for those people who had to admit that they could not own their puppy forever. At least they didn't just leave it somewhere.

And the other two, (a female and a male) I have no idea about. I wish them well, and hope they have a happier than usual day today. Perhaps they were adopted by someone who knows they were born on Pearl Harbor day, and will toss an extra scrap their way.

I think about Holly most of all. At the time, it was very difficult to admit that she could not stay here, and when I see her in Zelda, I feel a twinge of something.

It's not really sadness, because who knows how things are supposed to happen? It's a feeling of awe at having touched that flow of time and matter we call birth. She reminds me so much of her mother, but there's something else there. The genes of another dog, and her new personality, having known only this family as her people, and our dogs as her pack.

Alright, I'm putting on the puppy-dog face for some shameless begging, so watch out:

For some of us, this time of year is for acting on good intentions. If you live in a fairly clean and safe neighborhood, chances are, you have your local animal shelter, in part, to thank for it. Not only did our Tillamook Animal Shelter take in a pregnant dog and find us to care for her and her puppies, they provide a valuable service for our town, daily, nightly, no matter what it demands of them. And they are always in the mood for a contribution. Volunteering, fostering, donations, sharing animal postings from a shelter's Facebook page: animal shelters rely on the generosity of their community, as do the animals in their care, as do all of us who don't have to contend with stray pigs in the streets. So, if you love animals, or if you hate them and hope never to encounter a stray one, show some love to your favorite local shelter. Do it because it's a holiday. Do it because you get that giving really is better than receiving. Do it for all the puppies.

And that business about giving beating the pants off of receiving isn't just a bunch of puppy piddle. Being there for Holly and her puppies brought our family a strong feeling of harmony. Through all of the ups and downs, we as a family pulled together and never felt the burden wasn't being paid off exponentially. We'll never forget the Christmas when we hosted a litter of chocolatey sweet puppies, and when we look at Zelda, there is proof that all of that wasn't just some slobbering stinking dream.

Our Year in Bits and Pieces

The BU is almost a year old! Twelve months of recipes, antics, activities, and churning, newspaper-lined, twisting, twelve-speed, relentless, loud, paint-splattered learning. Learning is more than a school activity, it's an approach to life that never gives up. It's your little way of saying that no matter what comes your way, you will gain something from it. Life becomes a job never finished. If you're like me, you find that rewarding.

In moments like this, I look back on the last little chunk of time and admire how all of the little pieces fit together. Sometimes a few events just seem to flow into each other and, in a moment of reflection, the thing as a whole seems more significant.*

*Here's where some exercise their spiritual side, and find answers in religion or philosophy. We are not officially guided by any belief system, as a family. Each of the students of the BU is free to decide which truths ring truest to them as they grow up.

I'll start with the movie, Wasteland.  It's on Netflix's Instant Watch list. It's not rated. I'd recommend an adult watch it before deciding whether a kid they're in charge of should watch it. It is an uplifting documentary, but the people it follows are living hard lives, and their stories can get gritty.

In it, artist Vik Muniz brings change into the lives of Brazilian dump dwellers, called catadores. Inspired and aided by these people who make their living sorting recyclable materials, he uses his talent to earn money for them, while shining a light on the dignity with which they face each day. He photographs portraits of catadores; images made from the recyclable materials they gather.

 He then sells photographs of these portraits and returns the money to the catadores, along with their own copy of the portrait. This film left lingering notions, in my head, of moving things around, collecting many small simple things into one larger effort. A good idea and a bit of art can go a long way toward making the world a better place.

Not long after that, Japan was hit with an extremely destructive tsunami, and endured weeks of radiation contamination, and looming threat of nuclear disaster. The news was heart-breaking  and my thoughts were often with the people there. An organization called Students Rebuild announced an art project for the people of the world. Paper cranes: fold 'em, send 'em.  Take your sadness, your empathy, your healing, your compassion, your hope and your love and make it into creased little bits of paper and mail them in. Each crane brings them a couple of dollars in donation money, and will be used in an art installation.  Henry and I each made one and mailed them.

We meant to make many more, and did make a few more, but only two actually got mailed before the cut-off date. Just two little cranes, carrying all of our best wishes for the people affected by the disaster.

People everywhere, mostly children, made and sent cranes to Students Rebuild. They received millions of cranes. Then, you guessed it, Vik Muniz got involved!

Using his trademark style, he arranged the cranes into this image, photographed it, and copies of the poster earn more money to help finance the reconstruction efforts.

 His involvement with this project reignited my desire to find more little things to do, either as a gesture, a lesson, a solution to a problem, or all three.

Which brings me to Kiva. Kiva is an organized database of microlenders and their potential borrowers. Somebody with relatively little money ($25 plus a few bucks in fees) can pick a person, read their business plan, and help finance it. All the little bits of money come together to make a real boost in the dreams of someone out there. I decided we'd start cashing in our cans and saving the odd nickel and penny we see here and there, and bring it all together.

 I made this chart to keep track of each dollar we stored in a tin bucket on a high shelf.

It was tempting not to take a five dollar bill and throw it in the jar, just to speed things along. I really wanted to get to that $25 mark by Christmas, but I stayed patient and we gathered the money slowly. Up until a few weeks ago, we were holding steady at $20.  Then, one day, Henry tried on a coat I bought him at a thrift store, put his hand in the pocket and pulled out a five dollar bill. Try that with your "new" "clothes"! We added the money to the jar, deposited it in the bank, and picked our borrower. Good luck Etienne!

And let's not forget our Puppy Adventures, which are mostly over now.

Right before Thanksgiving, with a huge storm blowing, a pregnant young dog found herself suddenly without a home. Our local shelter picked her up and issued a request on Facebook, looking for someone who would foster her through her pregnancy and the weaning of her puppies. It would be a commitment of attention and care for several months. I talked it over with the family and we contacted the shelter.

 She arrived the next day. We named her Holly, and she proceeded to charm our family and fill our Christmas with eight beautiful puppies.For a month, she was in charge of them. After that, she started to feed them less and seem less interested in them. We had hoped she might stay with us, but being in a house with puppies she was no longer feeding seemed to make her restless. We tried hard to make it work, but Holly needed to move on. She went back to the shelter, and has been adopted by a lady in a nearby town. We'll always love her and think of her.

The puppies stayed here,

and grew up so that they could move on to new homes of their own.

When you tell people you're hosting a litter of puppies, people always say, "What a great learning opportunity for the kids! It will be so good for them to be around a litter of puppies!" That's very true, like a lot of things people always say. The puppies also learned a lot, from Mae.

They learned songs. They learned that the little one is the one who makes you wish you never even heard of being picked up. They learned to wun, and wun and wun. In Puppy School, Headmistress Mae ruled with a chubby iron fist, and all puppies did frolic with a diligent pursuit of excellence.

Holly and her puppies brought us innumerable lessons of immeasurable worth. A pregnant dog is science in action. The older two boys collaborated on a paper, outlining the needs of a pregnant dog, complete with correct terminology. They felt Holly's belly, as puppies squirmed and kicked inside of her, giggling with anticipation. We can't wait for you to get here puppies! and the puppies say, "Oh kids, you have no idea how much we can't wait to play with you too." They lived up to that promise. Once they were able, they gave each kid a lesson.

When Holly did go into labor, we gave her space, but Henry watched over my shoulder as one of her puppies slid into the world and drew its first breath. It takes a lot for a modern hip teenage boy to stare agape and whisper "Wow", but that moment did it. When they were bigger and more playful, they taught Thomas a thing or two about being energetic and exuberant, two things he wrote the proverbial book on.

George.

George is a unique kid. He's very smart, and deeply sweet, but he doesn't talk much. As someone who spends a lot of time with kids, I can tell he's not like his older brothers were at this age (6).  I know I could train him to behave more like some people expect him to act, but his marvelous little personality makes me think. Maybe there's not that much around him that makes him feel the way we think we feel about everything. Maybe he knows his family loves him, and that's good. He doesn't need to think about whether he loves us back. He's looking for something more interesting to do.

Enter: the puppies. From the second they arrived, the puppies have been interesting to George. He was always near when we got them out to hold them, and despite the fact that they were wiggly and sometimes scratchy or bitey he kept coming back for more. He loves them. He said so.

As they grew, he was allowed to pick them up and carry them more. He did, and cuddled them for naps, wrote their names, read to them, proclaimed his love for them, talked to them and talked to us about them. He also counted them, and learned to tell which gender they were.

One day, when I was reading in a chair, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked back to see George, smiling at me. I scooped him up onto my lap, hugged him, and thought about how that had never happened before. I believe those puppies inspired him to feel affectionate. They motivated him to keep hugging and holding in spite of their weird wiggling spontaneity. Once he enjoyed sharing warmth with something he loved, he brought that discovery to me, because he loves me and he knows I love him. It was an unforseen benefit to bringing together some of life's little misfits and cast-aways, cleaning up after them, and hoping for the best.

Speaking of unforseen benefits, when I read that Facebook notice, asking for a home for Holly and her puppies, I never could have guessed it would make this friend from forever ago and far away come all the way out here to visit us and take one of the puppies home!

Do you see the icing in this photo? Because it was on the cake. Pure extra fun, hanging out, visiting the dump, and chowing down at the Chalet. It was a big deal for Leah to come to Oregon, she has a family at home in New Mexico. Still, she seemed to agree with me, that Holly was special, and that her first born girl, Judy, might be worth the trip.

We are puppy sisters, because one of the other daughters of Holly is staying here at the BU. We're calling her Zelda and she's a student for life, right here where she was born.

 She fits in well with our family of humans, dogs, cats and pig. We're keeping her away from the chickens for now.

It might be a little late for this confession, but I kind of have no idea what I'm doing here. I didn't decide to pull my kids out of school and start a blog and watch a movie and do some origami and cash in some cans and take in a pregnant dog and call all of it a school year. That would have been crazy. Yet, that's what ended up happening. I liked it and intend to keep it up.

Whatever you want to call it, there's something that compels each of us to see our lives the way we do and make the choices we make. And, though events that unfold don't seem to have our constant happiness in mind, each tiny moment is a whole new chance at life; like a little piece of paper, a discarded aluminum can, or a silly puppy. What you do with these little bits and pieces makes a big difference.