I Took, She Took.

Lillie and I spent a Girl's day at the sanctuary. It was her choice to do whatever she wanted and she wanted to visit the animals. We took photos of each other hence the name of this post. I hope you enjoy our adventure as much as we did.

It can't weigh easy on your psyche to be abandoned at 3 or so days old. No matter what species you belong to. This sweet baby goatlet was found in a neighboring town and brought to the sanctuary to be raised. And oh she has endeared herself in the hearts of every person that has had the inclination to walk through the clinic. Her official name (given by Traci!) is Atrayu, to go with our previous baby goatlet, Falcor (going along with that Never Ending Story line of names...). Lillie and I took her outside for a walk in the sun--who enjoyed it more?






In the pasture we encountered a sweet Sicilian donkey. He and his buddy, a llama, came several months ago to live at the sanctuary and have settled in nicely. Though the Llama is very shy, he's not. He loves pats and scratches, and kisses.
Sicilian donkeys are miniature in size but not personality. They have a dark brown 'cross' from their neck to their shoulders and across their shoulders. Story has it that a pregnant Mary rode in to Jerusalem on the back of one of these little guys and forever left a holy mark on them.





A visit to the pastures wouldn't be complete without visiting older, established residents. The whitetail buck came to the sanctuary by people that captured him while very young. They thought it was great fun to raise a fawn and when he grew up (and in his mind was part of the family) and didn't leave they realized they had done him a great misservice. They brought him out and he lives in the pasture with other permanent residents.



And a visit wouldn't be complete without seeing Rocky. Sweet Rocky boy! All love. When I visited not long after these photos I saw that he had a snaggle tooth. I opened his mouth and the tooth pretty much fell into my hand. I was alarmed in that I didn't know if this was normal or part of his 'special' self. So I did a little research and found that lambs will lose their first baby teeth between the ages of 10-16 months old. They will then grow in the middle incisors and continue to lose and grow in subsequent incisors for the next 4 years. He's now a full fledged sheep. And, he got his first hair cut (sheared) yesterday. I cannot wait to photograph his new look.



Our day ended far too quickly. We had lunch in Blanco and headed home. We recounted our stories to the the rest of the family and promised to do it again soon.



I am so lucky to have a little girl like Lillie.

Time Passages

When I have photos for this blog, I often have long detailed stories to go along with them. I write the stories in my mind as I'm drifting off to sleep, daydreaming while driving, or feeding baby critters at work. They are really lovely stories filled with deep thoughts, irony, wisdom.... and when I finally find the time to sit and write, I come up with thin skeletons of what I had imagined.

Lillie and I were out front one afternoon discussing the expectations of a second grader in school. Of course, discussing anything with a seven year old doesn't follow a linear progression, so one has to be open to the side roads. We also talked of the different birds at the bird feeder and how one tells the difference between girls and boys; the relationship of the size of an egg to the size of a bird; and a thousand other what-ifs. I was able to catch her for just a few minutes on digital 'film'. The above photo was one of the last before she took off with her baby doll on her bike to a neighbor's house. Of course there were more thrills elsewhere compared to boring mom, her detailed and zoologically correct answers, and her camera.

As she pedaled off singing a song I'd never heard, I thought about how many different hats I wear. I mostly live my life from one day to the next always wanting to do better as the days pass--better as a person, as a parent, as a friend, as a sister.... I think I can't do any better as a daughter as I pretty much suck at that all the way around. But my family takes me as I am. I am so lucky. Let's see--mom, wife, animal caretaker, photographer, writer, artist, nurse, maid, taxi driver, social planner, activities director, chef, caterer, seamstress, interior designer, gardener, neighbor, babysitter, neighborhood activist, PTA mom, teacher, student.... I only get paid for doing one of these things.... my life is full!! I suppose I shouldn't call them hats as much as Mad Skills!!

I find making goals in life is a tough scheme for me--if every day is different, planning is a challenge. I do hold out hopes for--visiting Paris, a cross country sabbatical in an RV (apparently I will be doing this alone as Brent doesn't rank this particular adventure very high on his list of things to do), living in a beach house on a spectacular beach complete with hardwood floors and gossamer window coverings that billow with the sea breeze, collecting vintage photos of women in their everyday lives, and perhaps working at different wildlife rescue organizations to keep in touch with the animals.

I rarely think of my age in terms of being older than many or younger than a lot--it's only driven home when some young kid/school principle/stranger puts a "Mrs" in front of my name when addressing me. I tell them that Mrs Nowak is my mother-in-law and that my name is Robin. I couldn't care less about manners or formality. My name is my name. I also work with people that aren't much older than Forrest and for the most part I can fit in--for the most part. I admire their resilience in being in their early 20s and all that entails, especially their nocturnal forrays in to the land of clubs and pubs; getting back home at 4am just in time to shower and make their 6am shifts and performing their tasks with determination and a sly smile about what had only hours earlier transpired.



Youth!!!

Soooo this isn't what I set out to write about this morning. I set out to write about something deeper, more metaphysically connected, something someone would take away as an ah-ha! moment. In my mind as I lay in bed this morning, what I intended was so that. I was awed by my own intellect.

Thursday Morning coming down...

... while waiting for the goldfinches to return to the feeder, I sat on the garden bench and drank my cup of coffee. All of the birds were singing--the finches were close, the starlings were a little further out, a male grackle was courting a female, and the white wing doves were debating on the telephone line above the yard if the finch feeder was worth the effort. Rosie played in the garden then ran to a bare spot to take a sand bath.


I could hear a red tail hawk nearby, skreeing behind the house somewhere. As I walked around the west side of the house, the dogs met me with gusto. Sandy watched as I photographed her and the plum tree.



I never saw the hawk. And that was ok.

What a wonderful way to begin a Thursday.

It's just the beginning...

Spring is here!

(click on any image for a larger view)



Spring has finally arrived. It wasn't the martin scouts returning last week, or the first swallows of the season this week seen in the neighborhood. It wasn't the peach tree in bloom up the street or the minute blades of blue eyed grass bravely rising above the scorched grass out front.



It was the rain. Not just the high humidity that leaves a heavy dew on the vehicles and plants each morning. Not the teasing of clouds covering the sun for the afternoon only to clear by evening.

It came in slowly. With a northern chill.



There was an audible sigh as the earth relaxed. We've been without rain for almost 2 years. That's a long time not to feel falling water--on your skin and in the air.



The equinox is this week--where Spring has historically been officially welcomed. The sloughing off of old skins, of thick winter blankets, of old ways. The celebration of all things new; rebirth.



A season of hope.

Alone. Below the gate. With friends.

When my shift is over and I don't have to get home immediately, I take my camera below the gate to see what I can see. I'm able to think about the hows and whys of things (mostly about the whys) and just Be, without obligation or promise.



The herd of sheep, a few goats, donkeys and a mule or two gather around a large round hay bale or just hang and ruminate. I always wonder about these guys. They travel from one end of the sanctuary to the other, sometimes in single file, sometimes in twos and threes, trotting to another round hay bale. I don't think anyone has quite figured out if there's a timetable or if it's just one sheep's whim that starts the procession. However, when they do migrate, they do so with their tails wagging behind them.



I find that I want to meld with them, to become part of the herd but I know with only two legs I am forever denied entry into their club. Within the group I find silence save for the sounds of hay being ground by ovine molars. Many pairs of eyes watch me as I stand and watch. They know all of the secrets of the pastures. They know who comes and goes. I am just passing through their world.

They disperse as soon as I walk through, watching.



I wander towards the lemurs. They are a fascinating bunch and I have to say that the animators of Madagascar really captured their mannerisms. I sing the "move it, move it" song under my breath as I watch several sit on their haunches, arms resting on knees, facing the afternoon sun, slowing closing their eyes in meditation.... so very cool.



The black and white ruffed lemur boys watch me approach and silently decide who will greet me. Inevitably one will greet and the other will sulk in the back ground. The guy pictured here is the one who did not greet me. Instead, he hunkered down on a platform and watched as I photographed the group. (click on any of the images for a really huge look).



The young mountain lions are doing well. They've calmed down considerably and now have two rooms in which to live. It took them several minutes to come out from hiding when I arrived but with some snarling from brother and crouching from sister, they realized I wasn't going to do anything but watch so they both stood up, side by side. They will soon have access to the smaller mountain lion yard beside all of the resident mountain lions and eventually will be part of the family.



This is the male african lion.



When I first arrived at the enclosure I didn't see either him or sister girl at first. I walked along the side of the enclosure and came upon a turtle. The top of her shell was covered in dried mud and dirt (from our almost year long drought) and it looked like she had hauled herself up a rocky incline from below. I picked her up and noticed the underside of her shell and the sides were a gleaming, polished mahogany color. She withdrew into her shell, compact and tight. She was light to hold and I bet she dug herself out of hibernation to find water. I left her where she was so I could visit with the lions. I knew she wouldn't go very far very fast. I knew exactly where water was for her.

I found the female african lion beside the water trough. She was looking into the brush. She gave me a cursory glance and the directed her gaze back into the brush. It took me a minute to see what she was intent on watching.

He was guarding a meal and though wasn't actively eating the meal, he wasn't going to give it up either. And she wasn't letting on (much) that she was interested. She came over to where I sat and laid down not 2 feet away. Her large hands reached out and touched the fencing. She is so much more personable than I originally thought--direct eye contact, not really threatening but seeing where my boundaries were. We were eye to eye (as much as one can be outside an enclosure, she inside, and a sturdy fence and live wire between) and when I thought our souls had connected, she opens her mouth wide and exhales... not quite a growl, nothing near a roar, but it sits me up straight and breathless.

We continue watching one another as the male got up and retired from his meal. Oh she wanted what he guarded so badly but she continued to lay in front of me.

She eventually sauntered around his cache, behind, around, and ended up beside him. She rubbed her head beneath his chin, wanting attention, and he couldn't be bothered. She laid down not far away and eyed his left overs. What a girl that one.



My afternoon taking pictures came to an end. I left with an inner peace I rarely find elsewhere. I have been allowed to see a bit into the lives of animals. No one animal was lording over another; not one was pressuring another how to believe, what to believe, how to act... there was an unspoken harmony, an acceptance, among and between breeds and species.

I figure that is why I am so drawn to working with animals. I am who I am and that's ok.

What a breath of fresh air.

Kissable. Lips.

I thought these were the most kissable lips ever.



This is Phillip. He lives and roams below the gate at the sanctuary and always looks as if he's ready to kiss any girl that he meets. "Swoon" comes to mind when I look at him. He is so very handsome.

However, today this little one changed my mind.



This baby found his way to the sanctuary via a woman who bought him in a parking lot. Apparently he was being sold--as food. Cabrito. Barely taller than two rail road ties on top of one another and full of nothing but LUV!!!



Cabrito. Really???

Gatita y Gatito

This brother and sister were found wandering a neighborhood in California (exactly where I'm not sure.) The thought was that the mother was killed and these babies were orphans and needed a safe place to grow up. Much paperwork later they arrived at the sanctuary two days before Valentines day. They were both scared and ready to get out of their crates







Curious adult mountain lions lounged nearby as Sister was wrangled out of her crate and into the lockout.



Her fear was obvious as she snarled and hissed and growled at the gathered adults. In turn, the adults sniffed and nosed the new arrival. Each adult in turn greeted the girl nose to nose. She would hiss, they would hiss, and the introduction would be over.



Brother was next.



He came out much more subservient. He immediately crouched and rolled onto his back showing his belly to the onlookers. Although he snarled and growled at them, he stayed on his back. (Yes, they look very much alike and you might wonder how I can tell them apart (and am I really just showing photos of the same cub.) Brother has a nick in his right ear and Sister's does not.)

Here Brother is giving Sister some comfort. I was so lucky to be able to watch them interact after being separated for over 24 hours. Now they will be able to grow up in a family of their own kind and really know what it means to be a mountain lion.



Unfortunately they are unable to be released into the wild. Public outcry of releasing "big, dangerous" animals back into the wild prohibits it. Apparently the Public is entirely unaware of where these babies came from.

At least they have one another, the sanctuary, and a new family.

Blonde Perfection

Back in June I wrote about a leucistic opossum who came in with her siblings and was ready to be released. Not long after that post, she was released. (see Once upon a time... )

Several months ago a leucistic raccoon came in as an orphan. Somehow she was captured (she was wild and crazy and hard to hold--a girl after my own heart!) and we've been feeding her ever since. She be living with all of the other raccoons her age peacefully in our raccoon runs.




It's entirely fascinating to see an animal with unfamiliar markings. Where I'm used to seeing black hands and feet, hers are pink. Where raccoon noses are black and shiny, hers is almost a milk chocolate color. Where I'm used to seeing a grey and black ringed tail, hers is cinnamon and vanilla.

There are some that question the reasoning behind releasing an animal so seemingly defenseless--having no 'natural' camouflage. However, her demeanor and character would, as far as I'm concerned, render any opponent either shredded or turning tail in fear. Some fear she'd be easier to spot by predators.

Doesn't she deserve the chance at her own wild life?

1 Year and Counting

One year ago Rocky Mason can into my life. (see the post Rocky Mason) Since then he's led the most sheepful life.

He has other sheep, donkey, deer, and pig friends. He lives in huge pastures and has grazed all of his days. He has produced the thickest most wondrous smelling wool.



And given the most tender sweet kisses and tolerated mine.



His beginning wasn't the most perfect beginning, but between then and now I think has come incredibly close.

Happy Birthday dear Rocky. May you have many more years as a loved sheep!!




(The last two images taken by my friend, Ron Aaron)

Not so little, eh?

This is the guy from the previous post.

The blur is his Shield of Power.

I wish I had seen it before I fed him!