Swan Sanctuary

I am always amazed at the speed with which birds and insects can move. This is clearly an important ability, for both predator and prey. I put my chickens outside for their first time, in a temporary run. There was a substantial breeze and whenever a big gust went through, the chickens would attempt to fly. Their quick feet, combined with the nano-second of being air born, allowed them to move from one end of the enclosure to another in the blink of an eye.

Most of the swans that I used to care for either had their wings clipped, or they were pinioned; but whenever the wind revved up, they would do their best to take off into the sky. It was heartbreaking to watch. Occasionally, wild swans would fly in and they frequently had other visitors including egrets, herons, several species of ducks, and even eagles. I am sure that the captive swans I was in charge of were frustrated by their own inability to fly. It was my job to ensure that the Trumpeter swans’ wings were clipped each year after the molt. I was also expected to clip the wings of the juveniles before they learned how to fly. Timing was difficult. They first needed to be trapped, which involved my setting up traps both in water and on land. I then had to bait the trap every day until they were no longer afraid to go in it. When the moment was perfect, I would close the doors on the trap and proceed with my task. I worked for a non-profit and they were stretched for funds. They wanted me to keep my hours to a minimum which made it still more difficult to accomplish the wing clipping. Before I left my job (not by choice, but due to divorce) there were a few Trumpeters that I had not been able to trap. The breeding pair and their offspring had been adopted out to an estate about twenty miles away. They had been flying around the area and occasionally calls would come in to report that a Trumpeter had been seen at a neighboring pond. More recently, I have heard that the numbers of Trumpeter swans in northern Virginia are increasing. This leaves me feeling triumphant, knowing that I have helped to give at least a few of them back their freedom.

Some chicken owners clip the wings of their chickens to prevent them from flying out of their yards. I will not clip my chickens’ wings, as this places them in potential danger, making it more difficult to escape predators. Instead, I will place netting over the top of the run to ensure their safety. Freedom is not just for humans. Freedom is the inherent right of every sentient being.

I am having to face the fact that my body has its limits. I will readily admit that I can often be stubborn. The garden beds that I have created are mostly completed and they have been planted. I am now waiting for the larger plants to burst into bloom. I am constructing the paths in between the beds. It has been so much work and with no help what so ever, and the grass is now so tall that it is going to seed. I am doing my best to eliminate the grass all together by laying down black plastic and covering it with a thick layer of free mulch obtained from the local landfill. The grass must first be cut as close to the ground as possible and since I do not have a mower or a string trimmer, the only way I have of doing it is with my grass shears. Besides causing pain in my neck, shoulders, and back; I think it is contributing to the stomach pain that I have been experiencing. It is truly hard work and time consuming, as well. The problem is that we have already had some days in the 90°s. By the time I complete my morning chores and get my blog written and posted, it is around noon, at which time I go outside to work for several hours in the hottest part of the day.

I am going on my third day now, of not feeling well at all. I am weak and have very little energy. My stomach has been hurting, accompanied by diarrhea and a slight headache; as well as periods of profuse sweating and then feeling extremely chilled. Still, I keep going. There is so much to do and only myself to do it. Added to the gardening and filling wild bird feeders and bird baths, I now have the care of five baby chicks. It dawned on me yesterday that these symptoms have been occurring nearly every year for the past twenty years and almost always during the summer. I had an intuitive notion yesterday to make a glass of water with apple cider vinegar and maple syrup added to it. This is a drink, called switchel, which provides electrolytes. I also nibbled a few soda crackers. I felt slightly better. I now see that I have most likely been suffering from heat exhaustion from working for hours on end in the hot afternoon sun and not staying hydrated. It is time for me to change the way I have been doing things and put an end to this needless suffering.

Thirty years ago when I had my own home and was raising my daughters, I would often go out in the evenings to work in the yard. It was always cooler and peaceful at that time of day. Or, I would work in the shade. Now that I am gardening only for myself again and not for other people, I can do that again. It is a simple solution. For today, I have no choice but to honor my body’s need for rest. I have even had to forego my daily exercise routine, to which I have been committed for nearly a year. My inner doctor is telling me to rest. It is telling me to take time to simply enjoy what I have already accomplished. So for today, I am calling a time out.

There have been countless studies about the human need for touching and connection with others. However; this need is not unique to humans. All species thrive when in the company of companions. Our pets are often as needy as we are in their constant vying for petting and interaction with us. We have all seen pictures and videos of animals that have formed strong bonds with those of a different species – even those that would become their prey in the wild. From a landscaper’s viewpoint, plants look more attractive when planted in groups of three to five; but they also tend to grow stronger and healthier when planted together. I often place my houseplants together in groups because it not only looks better, but they grow lush and it helps to raise the humidity around them.

I often get annoyed with my cat because he requires his daily dose of affection whenever I am trying to write this blog, or when I am doing work that requires mental concentration. Children and dogs, as we all know, can be equally demanding. Churches and organizations of every conceivable activity have come about because of peoples’ innate longing for socialization. Those who spend much of their time alone need occasional stimulation from visiting friends, whether they admit it, or not. Prisoners, who are placed in isolation, suffer the most from their sentence.

We all share this small planet with each other – regardless whether we are human, bird, or tree. Some species are more social than others and some live solitary lives except when they come together to mate and ensure the survival of their species. Still, we all need each other to some degree. When we are born, generally our mother and a few attendants are there to greet us. Some people do die alone, but it is my guess that if they had a choice, they would have a loved one at their side to hold their hand while they passed from this particular plane of existence to the next.

For the first several thousand years that Homo sapiens wandered the planet, they were hunter-gatherers. Before the dawn of agriculture, food was free for the taking. Think about that. In my recent reading this subtle fact has been impressed upon me. Food was free. This makes it even more heartbreaking that so many people today starve, because they do not know how to feed themselves.

We are the only species on earth that pays for the food we partake of. All other species survive by their own efforts and whatever food source they happen to come upon, that is to their liking. Occasionally, my spinach or salad greens have already been sampled by some insect with chewing mouth parts. I do not mind. I also do not mind sharing my parsley with the caterpillars that will later grow into butterflies or moths. I generally designate a struggling tomato plant for the tomato hornworm. Sometimes the insects will take their fill and leave little for me. Still, I do not mind. It’s first come, first serve around here.

There are actually quite a lot of edible plants and even insects that can be found in the wild, if a person knows what to look for. Grasshoppers are said to be excellent protein, although I am personally more than a little reluctant to try them. Dandelion greens rival that of kale in terms of nutrition and there is always an abundant supply, if we can find some that have not been sprayed with toxic chemicals. If you are not into salads you can always make dandelion wine like my grandmother used to make. Mushrooms, too, are an excellent source of protein if you know how to differentiate them from those that are hallucinogenic.

Human beings are dependent upon one another for many things. Our ancestors knew how to be mostly self-sufficient, but they also realized that others could provide those things that were more difficult for them to come by, such as salt and spices and fabric for clothes. It is good for people to need people and to rely on neighbors and friends from time to time; but in the natural world, the young are taught by the adults how to survive in this often brutal world. Allowing ourselves to become completely and utterly dependent upon the government and giant corporations has left us vulnerable. It is time for the pendulum to swing back and find that sweet spot of perpetual balance. We must learn how to feed ourselves. It’s okay to need others, but we must become food warriors if we are to survive.

Tomorrow is my youngest daughter’s birthday. She will be 38. We will not be able to celebrate since she just recently arrived in Kuwait, where she will serve our country for the next six months. When I look at her now, it never ceases to amaze me. She is so strong and her muscles have been sculpted into a fighting machine.

My three daughters, who share the same father, were similar in size at birth – about 6 ½ pounds, plus or minus a few ounces. Within a short time; however, the physical differences became apparent. My middle daughter was strong and as she grew, she felt solid in a way that her sisters did not. In fact, I am quite certain that she broke my nose when she was only two years old and flung her arm across my face while sleeping. Andrea, my soldier daughter, was always light as a feather. As a newborn I would carry her around in one arm, like a football, and make dinner, or talk on the phone – pretty much anything that required only one hand. She remained petite and was never quite as healthy as her sisters, coming down with pneumonia on a couple of occasions. So, she was the last one that I might have expected to choose law enforcement and military as a career path. Physical differences aside, she was also far more stubborn than her sisters and she refused to wear dresses. Stretch pants and sweatshirts were her personal choice of attire.

Today marks two weeks since I brought my baby chickens home. Their differences, too, are beginning to be evident, not only in their coloring and markings, but in their personalities, as well. Iris is the smallest and I have yet to see her hop on the perch, but she is unafraid. I know that like my youngest daughter, she will hold her own and refuse to be bullied. We each come into this life with a personal blueprint of who we are – both in our physical nature, and in our outer personality. The greatest honor that we can give another, is acceptance. We begin by respecting ourselves and then respecting all human beings, all species, plants, animals, and our planet. When we learn to revere all life in its infinite and unique aspects, we are revered and loved in return.

I honor my daughter today who is also a soldier. She is a testament to the power of women everywhere. I celebrate her bravery as well as the maternal instincts that she also possesses. I pray for her safety while she is out of the country and for her safe return. Most of all, I simply love her, with all my heart and soul.

We are just ten days away from the Summer Solstice. This year it falls on Saturday, the 20^th of June. I will plan a celebration to not only celebrate the start of summer; but to also bring heartfelt gratitude for the recent pandemic. You may think I am crazy, but when we can be grateful for those challenges that help us to awaken to a higher consciousness; we find freedom and a sense of inner strength. The pandemic has taught each of us a lot about ourselves, not only individually, but also as a global community. Maybe it was necessary to push humanity into a new era of selflessness, empathy, and inclusivity. It has made more people aware of the importance of our basic necessities. It has humbled us, whether or not we agree with the governmental institutions that have sought to exert more power over us. Change is never easy, yet we have all been required to make changes in recent months. We can step confidently into a new era, or we can resist, kicking and screaming like toddlers when they cannot have their way. The choice is ours.

Summer Solstice has always been a bittersweet day for me. While I am grateful for the arrival of summer and flowers and warmer weather; I know that each day thereafter takes us closer to another winter. This year; however, I will remember to pause often during my day to appreciate each and every moment of summer. Three days ago, the beautiful, white Dutch Iris that were already planted here by someone else, began to bloom. I know that each day I will be gifted with another surprise bloom, or a vegetable that is ready to be harvested. I will have frequent visitors to my garden – butterflies, dragon flies, damsel flies, praying mantis, bumblebees, honey bees, hummingbirds, and hawkmoths – and many others. I have planted a polyculture consisting of about sixty different plants. If I am still here next year, I will have several more. I will plant more shrubs and trees and fruits and berries. I will slowly, but surely, remove the bitter from the sweet.

We had a rare and wonderful soaking rain last night. It reminded me of Virginia, where I had left my heart so many years ago. I lit a candle and sat, listening to the pitter patter against the windows. I soon became sleepy, which was followed by a restful, full night’s sleep. Unlike Virginia; however, the rain has been accompanied by much cooler temperatures and strong winds.

One thing about Wyoming that I am still trying to become accustomed to is the endless dust and dirt. It doesn’t help that I have a gravel driveway and a sand walkway leading up to the front porch. All of the windows have about a half inch of dirt and silt built up in the sills, which I have been trying to clean one at a time. The dust blows right into the house now that windows are opened with the warmer temperatures. Everything that I pick up off a table or a desk is covered in a fine grit within a matter of hours.

Dust is the bane of my existence. When I was growing up, dusting was my chore; while my sister ran the vacuum. We had three large dogs that continually tracked in from the yard that was mostly mud. I suffered from sinusitis and asthma as a child, which is no surprise. Many years later I learned that I was allergic to dust. Since I have been an adult, dusting is the one thing of which I am guilty of procrastinating. It is often not until my cherry dresser begins to look white, that I force myself to tackle the tedious job of dusting. Here, where I am now living, it may be simply a waste of time.

Perhaps it is this grit, which is lived with on a daily basis in these parts that has given meaning to the true grit of the cowboys who have grown up here. I have one native friend who said she moved back here because she missed the wind. Another friend tells me he likes the wind because it teaches you how to bend and to be strong. Who knows, maybe that is why I landed here; but I will forever miss the rain and Virginia.

Last week I made a trip to the recycle center to drop off my recycles and get a truck load of free mulch for my garden. When I arrived there I was told that they had closed down their facility and were no longer accepting recycles. I was shocked and simultaneously peeved. I asked them when and if it would be opening again, but they could give me no answers. I have been begging and pleading with my daughters for years, to recycle. I wrote about the importance of it in Question Everything. I may have already mentioned how far behind this town that I am living in is, in its progression towards awakening consciousness. It has been nearly three years since I moved here and I was informed that the recycling center had only been in operation for a short time; but to my dismay, they did not take glass. Still, as I have done for years, I regularly take my recyclables to the facility. Why has it been closed? Is it only this small, backwards town, or is it the entire state that has put a halt to recycling? Is it because of the pandemic or because enough people simply do not care? Is it only here, or in the entire country? In the meantime, I have no choice but to toss all of my carefully saved recycles into the trash along with all the neighbors. It sickens me and makes me angry and makes me want to cry, but I must find answers to these questions.

While Big Pharma and the hospitals and medical industries continue to acquire more power as a result of the pandemic, those who have fought for reversing climate change and those who have campaigned and marched and demonstrated and protested in so many ways to save our environment, appear to be fighting a losing battle. I would venture that hospitals, emergency care, and doctors’ offices are without a doubt, the largest contributors to landfills, with fast food chains coming in second. Not only do they add the constant “use once and throw away” materials; they also have the drugs that wind up being flushed down toilets or leaking into the soil after having been discarded. My few bags of recycles that have accumulated over a few months’ time is as nothing compared to what these industries produce in a single hour. I am truly miffed that more importance has not been placed on this issue that is a problem worldwide. Isn’t it time for the human race to set their priorities aright? I am at least grateful that I can still get free mulch even though it often has small pieces of plastic and other trash mixed in. I can only hope that they won’t discontinue that as well.

June is a busy month for me. Two of my three daughters were born in June. When my middle daughter was three, I hung a huge Happy Birthday sign across the living room. I had not had time to take the banner down when I went into labor with my third daughter, only five days later. It seemed appropriate since it was literally the birth day of my third daughter. My daughters are approaching mid-life now and more than ever, I feel a strong desire to celebrate the amazing women that they have become. Birthdays are celebrated in order to honor the person we are; although most people look upon them only as a measurement of the years that have gone by since their birth. There is an unspoken shame in our youth oriented society for those whose birthdays have all too quickly accumulated. It has even been considered unseemly to ask a woman her age. Birthdays; however, have a far deeper significance, than they are credited for.

Celebrating my daughters’ birthdays now feels more like a spiritual achievement. It was exciting when they reached their first birthdays and when they reached other milestones; but that is like reading only the beginning chapters in a book. The history that they have made in their lifetimes, their successes, their failures, and the discovery of their own spiritual strength, arrived at in their own unique ways, is something to marvel at. Watching them both stumble and fall, and watching them thrive, reflects back to me where I have helped them, as well as where I made mistakes in raising them. With each birthday comes deeper understanding for myself and for them. While they are no longer my children, the bond that we have only deepens with each passing year. My middle daughter will be celebrating another birthday on Monday. My youngest will have her birthday a week from tomorrow, but I will not be able to celebrate with her since she is currently on her way to Kuwait. I will be wishing her a happy birthday in my heart, but my biggest wish is that she will return in six months, safe and sound. My oldest daughter will not celebrate her birthday until the end of July. While they celebrate their birthdays, I will have my own inner celebration of thanksgiving. I will be reminded just how grateful I am that they chose me to be their mom. I will know deep gratitude for the strong, healthy, and beautiful women that they have blossomed into.