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Wow, another guest writer. This weekend was Maine Maple Sunday. I look forward to this event as it is the official opening of Spring for me. Warm days, cool nights. Maple syrup covering everything...free samples. Loves it.
My in-laws, Farmer Steve's family, has been coming up to participate in the traditional Maine Maple Sunday for a few years now. Momma Louise and I start planning the timing of where and when at least a week or two in advance. I cut out all the local adverts and totally plan the attack. Where do we stop first based upon the creations they are offering.
This year we started at the Shaker Village for maple cider, maple apple crisp and maple butter. Then we headed off to another maple farm where we sample maple whoopie pies and gazed and the miniature fuzzy cows (scottish highlanders). Never before has Steve's family gazed upon the wonderment that is a fuzzy cow.
After several more stops, for yet more maple inventions including maple cotton candy, and mom's favorite maple on ice cream, we headed back to the home stead for some alpaca wrangling. This year my sister-in-law Kate participated in the events. She has decided to share her experiences. Please welcome Kathryn Myer, our guest writer...
A suburban girl’s tale of life in Maine-by Kathryn Myer
March 2009:
I admit, I seldom visit my brother and sister-in-law at their farmstead in Sanford, ME, but each time I make the nearly two-hour trip north from Central Massachusetts, I’m reminded of just how outrageous these two alpaca farmers really are. In “town” to partake in one of Maine’s hallowed state traditions (Maine Maple Sunday), I ventured north where there’s still plenty of snow in the hills, and WAY TOO MUCH mud on the ground.
Mud Season, as springtime is affectionately called by the Mainiacs, can be a period of intense frustration, especially for those “from away”, like me. I don’t own muck boots. I don’t own farm clothes. I hate the smell of poop. I prefer not to get dirty. I’m basically everything that people from Maine shun, and would more than likely have been disowned had I grown up there. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve made plenty a mud pie in my lifetime, but mud season in Maine, is nearly unbearable. I’m truly amazed and aw-struck by the sheer perseverance and tenacity that people from Maine exude. I simply couldn’t do it. I couldn’t handle the mud in the spring, the bugs in the summer, dodging bullets and arrows throughout the various “seasons” of the fall, and the seemingly constant errand of snow removal in the winter. But, my brother and sister-in-law absolutely thrive in this environment. They make the mud cool. They make the summers fun I’ve learned that the most personally liberating thing for a girl from the “burbs” is taking her first honest-to-goodness outdoor shower. Whooa, what a rush!!! They make hunting season an adventure I chose to wear blaze orange like the alpacas on the farm during the fall, just in case somebody’s thinking that I look kinda like a wookie!!! Winters, well, I don’t make it up to Maine much in the winter my little Mazda 3 doesn’t much care for the dirt driveway on the farm!!! But, the greatest part of visiting the farm, besides visiting with my brother and sister-in-law, of course, is interacting with all the critters.
As one could probably deduce from my aforementioned personal profile above, I’m never had a pet. Nope notta one!!! So, visiting the farm is something totally out of my element. Let’s just say that I’ve never been confused for Bindi Erwin. My visits normally consist of a complete animal overload - a slew of alpacas, a trio of pigs, a throng of chickens, and two extremely spirited dogs. After a day at the farm, I’m usually completely wiped out. Just ask my parents (Weeza and Hazel) I sleep the ENTIRE way home from the farm.
The dogs are my favorite: probably because they’re the most familiar, and have the best personalities!! Colleen (the retired greyhound) is an absolute riot, and he adores me, but only because I bribe him for love. Nearly every time I visit, I bring a few Dunkin Donut munchkins along for the ride. When I arrive, this dog knows exactly what I’ve got. Then, there’s Katie. Yes, the border collie and I share the same name I don’t wanna talk about it (and, NO, she was not named after me!!!!!). Katie is a sweetheart, and a complete work-a-holic. If there’s something to herd, she’s gonna try it. If there’s an alpaca in sight, she’s gonna work it. If Colleen’s around, she’s gonna pull something. A side note about this dog she has the most unusual phobia I’ve ever encountered. The girl absolutely hates walking on the first-floor hardwood flooring in the house. She has no problem with the second-floor hardwood flooring, the tile in the mud room, or anything outside, but put that girl on the first floor, and she looks like she’s about to fall off the side of a cliff absolute sheer terror. These two are definitely my favs, but the other critters on the farm are just as unique and silly.
So, this past weekend, I was able to participate in some quick halter training with some of the younger males. I’m soooooo glad that my sister-in-law suggested we take the young guys out, because I’m basically terrified of the larger males on the farm, and definitely don’t wanna mess with the females in the herd. Don’t get me wrong, alpacas are wonderful and in a majority of cases, pretty docile creatures. However, from my perspective, psychologically, I just feel like a piñata at a party. These animals constantly toy with me. The older males (i.e. Giles and Focus) appear to be able to recognize the fear in my eyes as soon as I step into their pasture. They appear to immediately calculate how best to mess with me in order to obtain their feed. I’m quite short, so during feeding time, I normally have males swarming my head to get food. In the end, I’m just happy to get outta there with all of my hair, and without spit all over my face. With the females they’re all just preggers constantly and basically have this don’t mess with me attitude. I normally oblige no messing with the baby-making machines!!!
This trip to Abenaqui Alpacas was particularly astounding, as I had the distinct pleasure of coming intimately acquainted with Bob’s willies and doodleberries, or to put it more accurately, former doodleberries. Yeauuup folks, Steve and Karrie had Bobby’s doodleberries removed recently. Needless to say, attempting to put him on halter was a task and one that I gladly let the real farmers take on. So, as a first-time doodleberry detective, I have this to report -----OOOOOUUUUUUCCCCCHHHHHH!!!!!!! I don’t even have the same equipment under the hood, and I was freaking out!!!!! Bob took all of Karrie’s poking in stride. Oh yeah, today was also my first time observing rectal thermomology (yeah, that’s right, I said thermomology) people, when your butt beeps like an egg timer, it’s embarrassing!!!!
Other than my obvious discomfort and squeamishness around general veterinary practices, I thought that the day was a success!! All the little preggers are getting bigger. I believe that there are four critters on the way this year. It’s sort of difficult coming to terms with the fact that the cria I’ve known since just after birth are already ready to have their very own buns in the oven!!! They grow up so fast!!!
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