For reasons unknown, a few days ago I just got the urge to listen to Los Lobos, specifically "Reva's House". Kiko is a great album, Los Lobos are underappreciated geniuses of American music, and I am pissed that I keep forgetting to buy tickets early to their shows at the Stoughton Opera House and so keep missing them.
They'll be at the Big Top Chautauqua up in Bayfield on 23 August.
"Two Janes" is such a beautiful song.
You can hear me scream on this.
(Read #118.)
Some residents of Heartland Farm Sanctuary, just south of Madison in rural Stoughton. You can help them out here.
Meet the animals yourself.
(late-August 2023)
(Listen to the prelude.)
It seems long ago now that Anthony Fauci was on TV everyday reassuring us that all we needed to do remain safe and sound from the novel coronavirus going around was for us to get vaccinated, wear masks, and isolate ourselves. This was just under four years ago yet the lockdowns seem so far away in my mind.
As you may recall me writing then, I started my workdays during that harrowing time by watching short videos on Twitter from Caenhill Countryside Centre over in the UK featuring the morning rush hour from the farm. Caenhill is a farm for rescue animals and Farmer Chris Franklin would take video of a barn door being opened every morning. He would cry "Greetings and good morning and sometimes goodnight" and let slip a hungry horde of ducks, chickens, ostriches, sheep, donkeys, etc. which would stream out into the barnyard looking to break their fasts.
These videos were a lovely, heartwarming way to start my workdays. All of those creatures with whom we share this planet with were cute and often times funny and the scenes were just the opposite of life in lockdown. There was no social distancing, no fighting over toilet paper, nobody losing a job, no one protesting mask or vaccine mandates. Just the bucolic English countryside and some hungry farm animals oblivious to human anxiety. What care does a farm cat writhing in the grass have? With death or, at least the threat of it, seemingly all around us, it was wonderful to have 2 minutes every morning set aside for something more life-affirming.
Our two cats, Grabby and Piper, did a fine job of satisfying our desire for animal company but I still thought it would be neat to visit Caenhill. Since that was impossible, I wondered if there was such a farm a bit closer to home and discovered that indeed there was – Heartland Farm Sanctuary. But, as with every “non-essential” place, it was not accepting visitors. And so paying a visit got put on my to-do list where it sat for 3 or 4 years. Until now.
The farm is a bit south of Madison and just east of the town of Stoughton so it was a fairly short drive from home. The sky was cloudy making it rather temperate out which was fine by me. Barns do not smell particularly pleasing when it’s below freezing much less an 80+ degree day when things are quite, shall we say, aromatic. So I counted us lucky.
We met our guide in the gift shop and poked around the t-shirts, refrigerator magnets, and whatnot for a little while as we waited to see if anyone else was going to show up to join us on the tour. No one did so the guide, a woman whose name I must admit I do not recall, gave us her introductory speech which outlined the history of the farm, including its recent move from rural Verona (to the west a bit) to its current home. We were also given an idea of what to expect on the tour: being animals, some of whom have come from rather poor living conditions or otherwise suffered at the hands of a human, they may want nothing to do with us; animals poop and pee wherever they feel like it, etc.
The tour began just across the yard with the chicken coop where a couple of fowl friends awaited us.
Our guide explained where they had acquired the chickens as well as some of the other animals. The specifics of the chickens are lost to me but I recall her saying that one of the pigs was rescued after the pen it was in fell off a truck on the highway. Sometimes when animal owners die, their families don’t want the animals and they’re sent to slaughter. But occasionally a family member or friend intervenes and suggests the animals go to a rescue farm such as Heartland instead of being put down.
I believe that one or more of the chickens came to Heartland via that route.
Here’s a turkey.
Most of, if not all, the animals were unwanted by their previous owners but, at Heartland, they were given a loving home where they could live out their lives in comfort. Some were just going to be a burden while others were sick or injured. But here the sick and injured are nursed back to health and tended to by a crew of dedicated caretakers, many of whom are volunteers.
Here's the area behind the coops. Or was it behind the barn that the ducks and geese called home?
Still in the bird section of the farm, we spied emus off on the far side of the yard. Emus look funny to me as they have this head that is tiny compared with the size of the rest of their bodies. But I think there's enough of a brain in there to have my eyes pecked out if I got too close. And so I kept my distance.
Eventually we wandered over to an adjacent open area where we found the llamas out enjoying the day.
I wasn’t sure if they were llamas or alpacas. When I lived up north, there was an alpaca farm (Maybe. Or was it llamas?) a bit more than a mile away from our house as the crow flies but my memory failed me. I think those were llamas on that farm as I seem to recall being told to avoid them lest I get spit at.
Up to this point, the animals smelled us humans and had kept their distance. None ran away from us in terror but they wanted to just relax in peace. Our guide then led us down the driveway to the farm’s shiny new barn.
As we entered the new digs, our noses were greeted with that familiar barn aroma. The scent always brings me back to my high school days when I would meet friends who lived on farms and perhaps help out with some chores so they’d be free to go out and have fun or just chat with them as they went about their work, usually in a milking parlor.
Walking to one end of the barn, we were introduced to farm’s cow, Daisy, from afar.
Sadly, Daisy was a widow, her male partner having been euthanized a couple weeks before. Our guide told us that Daisy had been melancholy ever since and mainly spent her days alone out in the barnyard. Is it anthropomorphizing to suggest that a cow might feel some shade of grief after losing a partner cow?
Going further into the barn, we found that it was home to all kinds of animals such sheep, goats, pigs – lots of pigs, and the odd goose.
Now, if memory serves, I believe this goat was ill. He, I think it was a he, ignored us and just squatted over by the wall. If I recall correctly, the guide intimated that he was not long of this earth. Poor fellow. But it's a memento mori. At the end of the day he and I will both return to the soil.
Now, this guy, on the other hand, was either showing off or being extra vigilant, I wasn’t sure. "Beware the strangers!"
A goose was taking a bath as we wandered by. Oops! Sorry!
As I said, there were lots of pigs. This is Betty White and I do believe she is a Yorkshire.
And she was a big sow too. Didn’t want much to do with the humans and was instead keen on digging into the hay with her snout and relaxing. She may have been the pig whose pen fell off a truck. Poor thing. At least she is living like a queen now.
The goats were happy to be petted as was the donkey who took no prodding to come over to get some ear scratching. Petting this cute, furry head reminded me of seeing Eo and Au Hasard Balthazar earlier in the year. Such a gentle creature and eager for attention.
We were also given a look behind the scenes.
There were dishes and buckets everywhere in addition to shelves full of canned fruits and vegetables which complemented the fresh stuff.
Here’s the feeding rota:
And here’s the one for getting the animals out in the pasture for some quality roaming time.
Although Heartland is a small farm in the grand scheme of things, feeding and caring for the animals and hauling all that poop out is no mean feat.
Since we were the only people on the tour, our guide let us meet a pig named Harriet, an encounter normally reserved for folks on private (and pricier) tours.
Harriet eagerly came over to us as we entered her pen.
After she laid down, our guide gave me a telescoping scratching stick and I proceeded to give her belly a good scratch and it appeared that she enjoyed every minute of it. A fine way to end the tour.
I think I speak for my Frau when I say that we both enjoyed every minute too. The tour was such a joy! To be outside and breathing in that fresh dairy air and to spend a little time with some of the other non-human denizens of Dane County.
Heartland doesn’t just let city slickers pet animals, though. They also offer therapy for children which, I gather, involves a therapist leading them around the farm to interact with the animals and work on their mental and emotional health. There are also various youth programs that allow the kids to visit the farm, learn about the animals, and hopefully develop a compassionate view towards them. And, I presume, there’s a healthy dose of environmental stewardship thrown in.
Wandering the farm and receiving all of its good tidings was a great way to put work out of my mind; to leave bills and problems behind. There is something salutary, perhaps even restorative, about being out in the countryside and interacting with the fauna. I find that, not only do the stresses of life seep away with every step through a barn, with every scratch given behind a donkey's ear, but I am reminded that we humans too are part of nature and, perhaps, not so far removed from the pigs and goats and cows as we think/hope.
I bet that, if you were to have scanned my brain while I was on the tour, you'd see the stress centers go dark and the happy parts light up. My blood pressure was no doubt lowered. The simple act of scratching a pig's tummy is a potent source of unalloyed joy. You can feel your cares fall away.
The tour also reminded me that farming, whether it be animals, dairy, or crop, is hard, back-breaking work.
After the tour, we went into Stoughton and grabbed coffee and a snack. My clothes and shoes may have been a little stinky, but my mind felt udderly (ahem) refreshed.
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Bonus photo. No cats this time. Instead it’s a screenshot of a news headline that made me chuckle.
