Where I Was

On Christmas Eve my college son flew from one coast to the other. My stepson and his wife of one year left their home in the western mountains and flew east. Steve and our high school son packed our bags and flew south. We all met on a magical island off of the coast of Florida, where the beaches are covered with shells,

which are sifted over by both human collectors,

and by seabirds.

It is a place to slow down and take walks. One morning you might meet up with a Snowy Egret in the surf.

It is a place where you might look up to see a tree filled with Brown Pelicans,

each huge bird improbably sleeping on a swaying end of a skinny branch.

Take a walk at the Ding and you will see an alligator basking in still water.

Take a drive to the Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary and walk a couple of miles on a boardwalk through an otherworldly landscape.

It’s a place to bring a book (in a waterproof and chic beach bag) and sit and read. It was chilly enough that I needed a sweater, but that was okay. I wore sandals!

We’re back home, and my toes won’t be out in public for months, because this is what we woke to this morning.

It’s beautiful, too, isn’t it?

 

Comfort and Joy

For the last few months, I’ve been at my computer, writing. I’m going to take the week between Christmas and New Years to step away from the screen and spend time with family. No FaceBook. No blog posts. Limited email. I’ve taken books out of the library and I’m eager to read other people’s writing. My sons are off from school. No doubt there will be some cut throat games of Monopoly played this week.

We can’t see into the future.

But my hope is that the new year brings all of you comfort

and joy.

Have a wonderful week!

A Solstice Tale

I remember reading, when I was very young, folktales about animals speaking at midnight on Christmas Eve. As a little girl, I’d wondered about that – about animals who normally sleep at night, staying awake to speak in English. For the sort of practical and literal-minded child that I was, it didn’t make sense. Certainly, it sounded wonderful for any human who happened to be in the barn at that moment, but who would? Besides, didn’t the animals already speak to each other in their own ways, in their own animal languages? Why speak human? Even when I was as young as five I didn’t think that animals had to speak in English in order to communicate. However, despite my puzzlement and skepticism, the thought of a cozy barnful of talking animals has stayed with me. I don’t remember any of the specific stories from my childhood, and so I’ve written one of my own that takes place on the winter solstice. Since today is the solstice (and a particularly dreary, dark and rainy one at that) I thought I’d share it here. It’s meant to be a picture book, but as I’m not an illustrator, you’ll have to use your imaginations. (The vintage cat drawing below is how I picture TomTom in the story to look.)

Happy Solstice, everyone!

image from “Baby’s Farm Animals”
illustrated by Irma Wilde 1960

 

The Animals Talk: A Solstice Tale
by Terry Golson

Hannah Rose looks out of the kitchen window into the dark night.

What are the animals doing now Papa? asks Hannah Rose.

They are going to sleep, says Papa. Like you.

But that’s not what Grandma told me, says Hannah Rose. She said that tonight is special. 

Yes, yes, says Papa impatiently. It’s the solstice, the longest night of the year. All the more reason for you to get to bed!

But, Papa, Grandma said that the animals will talk tonight, insists Hannah Rose.

Hmph! Old folk tales, says Papa. Off to bed with you!

Hannah Rose tries to sleep, but the stars shine brightly through her window. They make a sparkly path to the barn. She wraps her quilt around her and puts her feet into her slippers.

Hannah Rose tiptoes to the barn, slides the heavy door open a crack and steps inside.

Hannah Rose is here! says Buffy, the brown hen.

You do talk! says Hannah Rose.

Hah, she never stops! says Daisy, the goat.

Would you be so kind as to give us some corn? asks Ginger, the spotted hen, as she hops down off of the roost.

A tiny voice squeaks, Drop a little extra for me, please.

I would like some hay, says Daisy.

Tomtom the cat rubs against Hannah Rose’s legs. A scratch behind my ears would be nice, he says.

Brownie, the old mare shakes her head. Staying up late has made me hungry. A handful of oats in my bucket will do.

Hannah gets the corn for the chickens, the hay for the goat, scratches the cat and feeds the horse.

Thank you, say the hens.

Thank you, says the mouse.

Delicious, says the goat, talking with her mouth full.

Ah, that feels good, says TomTom.

Thank you, says Brownie. I do like a midnight solstice snack. The horse sighs and lies down in the deep straw of her stall.

Hannah Rose yawns and shivers in the cold.

Warm up next to me, says Brownie.

Hannah Rose curls up next to the horse, pulling her quilt over her. She soon falls fast asleep.

The barn door opens and sunshine startles Hannah Rose awake.

Hannah Rose, says Papa, what are you doing here?

I heard the animals talk! she says, rubbing her eyes.

Really, and what did they say? asks Papa.

They wanted corn and oats and hay. Tomtom wanted a scratch and even the mouse asked for food, says Hannah Rose.

Hmmph, says Papa. That’s what they always want. I don’t need to stay up in the dark and cold to hear that.

But they also said thank-you! says Hannah Rose.

Of course they did, says Papa. They always do. Each animal says thank you in its own way. Tomtom purrs when he’s happy. And haven’t you heard Brownie do that low nicker when she gets her food? Why, all of the animals thank us.

Time to get you some breakfast, says Papa. He picks up Hannah Rose and swings her onto his shoulders.

As she leaves the barn she hears TomTom purring, Brownie nicker and the chickens cluck. She waves good-bye, and as she turns to the house she hears the tiny squeak of a tiny mouse.

You’re welcome, whispers Hannah Rose.

Oh, Agatha!

I let my hens free range only when I can stay outside with them and keep an eye out for predators. In the summer, they get to forage for long stretches while I garden, but in the winter the outings are shorter and less frequent. There’s a limit to how long that I can stand around in freezing temps watching the girls.

The old hens are as eager as the young ones to get out, but then they don’t do much more than find a place in the sun and wait to go back into their pen.

The 19 month old Gems, though, rush out and spread across the lawn to forage.

All of them, except for Agatha.

She sees me. She sees the camera. She wants to know what’s what.

This is why I’ve included three Speckled Sussex in my spring chick order. There’s bound to be another inquisitive, friendly and slightly bonkers hen like Agatha in the bunch. Every flock should have one.

 

Animal Friendships

Stories of “unlikely” friendships between animal species have been made into at least a half-dozen books, which all appear to be selling well at bookstores. Stories of chimps and tigers, tortoises and hippos, a dog and a pig. They’re sweet. They’re cute. But why are people surprised? Why do people think that animals only relate to others like themselves? Certainly, if you have a mix of animals in your life, even if it’s just a cat and a dog, you know that they are in a relationship (albeit not necessarily loving – even brothers and sisters can have rivalries.)

Just look around you. Or look here. Yesterday, many people commented on Candy’s regal stance in the center of the HenCam coop. (Well, as regal as one can be when one’s throne is a purple plastic kitty litter box filled with sand.)

Candy enjoys the company of the hens. In the morning she hops over to their pop-door, waiting for them to come out. During the day she watches their comings and goings from the top of the ramp in her hutch. Candy is their leader. Not a rooster. But their leader, just the same.

Candy and the goats are friends, too. Once in awhile, I let Candy out into the goat pen to have a hop-around and to eat the fresh grass. When I first did this, the goats wanted to treat Candy like another goat, with head-butting play. Candy did not like that idea, and she clearly communicated the rules of the friendship to the boys. I saw it happen, and I’m still not sure how this was done. Bunny ESP? Pip came up, ready to head butt a “hello, let’s play,” when he stopped in his tracks. I happened to be there, at the moment that this agreement was reached and snapped this photo.

Have you seen Candy at dusk, over at the fence, saying goodnight to the boys? In the summer, they hang out there on warm nights and converse. It’s an evening ritual.

It’s not only domesticated animals that have interspecies animal communities. The Beast was well aware of huge, old bullfrog that lived in her pond (it died this summer at the grand age of ten.) The wild animals, too, interact with each other. Karen Pryor has written about these animal communities, specifically her observations of birds, in an essay in her book Karen Pryor on Behavior.

Of course, we humans are also a species, and we have relationships with many other animals over our lives. I find this as wonderful and remarkable as any story about a chimp and a pigeon.