Letting go of my herd
Originally, I wrote this piece as a means to process emotions and shared it with a close circle of family and friends. Since then, a mentor/friend has urged me to post it publicly, so Bunny here goes. More than anything I hope it’s received as an example of love, faith and hope — and a reminder that with every door that closes another opens. Within 24 hours of writing this emotional post, my “interim herd” dropped from heaven into my lap in the form of a rescued mother dog and her 5 tiny puppies.
Letting go of something you love is painful especially when intellectually you understand why it’s not good for you, but emotionally and spiritually it makes your heart soar.
Recently, I’ve had some practice in the letting go department when my health forced us to sell our beloved farm on Fish Hatchery Drive in Scio, Oregon. The letting go came in waves for this major life change: first selling the sheep herd; then our large flock of ducks: all the equipment: cleaning up the place for sale and finally selling the farm and returning to Colorado. My heart ached for months, but recently I’ve found a safe and hallowed spot in my heart to put our farm and all the wonderful memories there. I recently returned to Oregon and visited our farm; what I found was not what I expected nor how we had left it. This final step allowed me to let go. By letting go, I have been able to make room for new joys and experiences.
After the move we bunked at Mom’s while we started construction on our new house on 9 acres along Coal Creek. The first structure on the property was a dove loft that Joe built for me in April 2017 just before doves arrived from our flock (from our old farm) in Oregon. I’d left all my females sitting on eggs and the new owner shipped the weaned doves (squeakers) to me. I’ll never forget the first time they flew in Meeker. They circled the loft and dipped down into the creek bottom before zooming right overhead. The wind and whirring sound their wings made in flight was something I had desperately missed during the few months we’d been in Meeker without doves. Immediately, I was reminded of the joy with which they fly. They were born to fly and perform their vocation with such elegance and enthusiasm. Life was coming together in our new home. The doves have flown every day since and no matter how tough the day, the doves make me smile as I marvel and am humbled at their beauty as I watch them in flight;often a tear falls from my cheek and a lump rises in my throat. I believe my Rock Doves (Johnny’s Doves) are the most beautiful birds on earth. They do good work.
We moved into our new home in December 2017 and plans were already underway to start a small scale pasture-raised duck egg operation. As a retired shepherd and farmer I still needed something to take care of and this hobby-style farm project seemed perfect. On April 1st this year 40 day old ducklings and 3 day old geese arrived at 211 County Road 6. Life resumed some normalcy with daily chores and caring for these crazy ducks. Each day I looked forward to our pasture walks with the whole flock, Arthur our Golden-Doodle, Scruffy the house dog and Lucy the Border Collie keeping everyone gathered. We spent the summer expanding their horizons, swimming in the pond and introducing them to the sprinkler. It has been such fun watching them grow. They are characters and really more like pets than farm animals. Several are named; they come when called and are happy to go where Lucy herds them. Edith and Celeste (2 of the geese) routinely search my pockets for treats and crawl up into my lap. Eggs started coming from my feathered flock in August which I’ve been selling like crazy and my micro farm was taking shape.
Which takes me to today (November 19th), as we awaited the pathology results of my lung biopsy 2 weeks prior. No matter the result, I was resolute in knowing why breathing had become such a challenge. With low saturation "my elevator wasn’t going all the way up" and when you live with the sharp wit of Joe Nieslanik that puts you at a serious disadvantage. I’ve always said that knowledge is power and with empowerment only moments away, I closed my eyes and prayed I could navigate this gracefully.
Our doc had warned about what the pathology might show, and sure enough many of his predictions were confirmed. In addition to fibrosis and scarring from my disease I have a toxic and inflammatory response in my lungs due to repeated exposure to duck, dove and geese dander and droppings, and now exposure can be life threatening. Well .... 6 years of intense ducks, doves and geese exposure might do that! Who knew?
So here I am again on the canyon’s edge with the internal struggle of letting go of something I love. The intellectual part of this equation is easier as I know contact with my birds is dangerous. The emotional part is harder, however, because being a farmer I truly believe IS my life’s work and is why I was put on the planet. My recent micro-venture rekindled some of the farmer passion in me after losing our farm, and it felt so good, so complete again. The small scale duck and dove ventures were my last held hope for small scale farming, That gone, what now?
Well….. I’m digging deep but believe my work now is to find another safe and sacred part of my heart to store my doves, ducks and geese. All the memories, the laughs and the joys. I know that this work is pressing as the birds physically have to go, and i have to safely store this experience away before I can find space for new joy and passion in my life.
There go my retirement plans of sitting on a park bench and feeding the pigeons!
I’ll close with gratitude and appreciation for my feathered friends. I’m not certain how the next few weeks will unfold, but I have to trust it will be as it should. These birds have brought such happiness to an old retired shepherd, if even for a short time. As I move quickly to find the right place in my heart for them, just know I’ve loved every minute. As my dad always used to say, “everyone has to find their herd,” and I’ve been blessed with a few herds in my life. We’ll see what the next one looks like. Thank you God.
