The beginning of of the year got off to a bit of a rocky start here at Two Crows. We have been introduced to a new aspect of country living.
Unintentional Loss.
Starting with the loss (continuously since my last blog) of our neighbors forrested area, which now sits beside our property like a fresh wound.
Next the loss of chickens. Two at a time, and four in all, before we decided to keep them inside for the winter. A few things came into play there- the discombobulation and slowness that has overcome our chilly flock of chickens... and the clever pair of foxes that seem to have moved in next door.
And last, and I suppose the most upsetting for the family is the loss of our two dogs.
Peerless was put down a few months ago, and Pablo went missing on the 10th of January. We spent a few weeks searching, and have since given up.
We hear rumours of dogs miraculously showing up weeks and months later... and we also hear rumours of the cayotes and their incredibly strange and dangerous behavior this year. It seems that either a hunter, or a trap or a cayote are the most likely culprits.
Funny, being from the city originally, we still had a certain "city" style connection with our dogs. They slept for the most part in the house. They sat by our feet, layed by the fire, and followed us relentlessly wherever we went. Pablo was a little more like Stephen's shadow than a dog at times.
It seems that lifecycles don't translate well from city to country.
Now that we are wrapping our heads around the loss we realize that having pets out on the farm it is a little different. There has to be a certain understanding. The lifecycle is more apparent. Just like the time for slaughtering our raised meat or harvesting our vegetables, there comes a time when things die.
There is less protection out here. Less organized, controlled living environments and less enclosure.
With that comes a fast, colourful and incredible exsistence... but also a faster means to the end.
I keep picturing families in the early part of the 20th century, when women were still having 12 children, and not all would survive. Wow. Things have changed so much. Not only the fact that we as human beings living in one of the more developed nations are living well into our 90's, but that most of our children survive. Even more crazy, that we have cats and dogs that are so well cared for that they are living into their late teens!
I am not sure whether we try to keep ourselves and our animals alive for so long because we are simply able to, or whether we are so afraid of death and so attached to attachement that we focus on living longer instead of just living.
What do you think?
Either way, this is a superior rant isn't it?
Time to follow it up with a few things we are looking forward to:
A few more good snow falls. Stephen's birthday. Spring planting. Baby chicks. New puppies (eventually). Family time. Baking. Farmer's Markets. Fresh veggies. Visitors. Disc golf.
I feel pretty blessed for the experiences that we are having out here. Whether they be the multitude of new challenges, or the unexpected periods of loss and mourning. It is all a means to a greater understanding of ourselves, our own lives... and our own mortality.
Unintentional Loss.
Starting with the loss (continuously since my last blog) of our neighbors forrested area, which now sits beside our property like a fresh wound.
Next the loss of chickens. Two at a time, and four in all, before we decided to keep them inside for the winter. A few things came into play there- the discombobulation and slowness that has overcome our chilly flock of chickens... and the clever pair of foxes that seem to have moved in next door.
And last, and I suppose the most upsetting for the family is the loss of our two dogs.
Peerless was put down a few months ago, and Pablo went missing on the 10th of January. We spent a few weeks searching, and have since given up.
We hear rumours of dogs miraculously showing up weeks and months later... and we also hear rumours of the cayotes and their incredibly strange and dangerous behavior this year. It seems that either a hunter, or a trap or a cayote are the most likely culprits.
Funny, being from the city originally, we still had a certain "city" style connection with our dogs. They slept for the most part in the house. They sat by our feet, layed by the fire, and followed us relentlessly wherever we went. Pablo was a little more like Stephen's shadow than a dog at times.
It seems that lifecycles don't translate well from city to country.
Now that we are wrapping our heads around the loss we realize that having pets out on the farm it is a little different. There has to be a certain understanding. The lifecycle is more apparent. Just like the time for slaughtering our raised meat or harvesting our vegetables, there comes a time when things die.
There is less protection out here. Less organized, controlled living environments and less enclosure.
With that comes a fast, colourful and incredible exsistence... but also a faster means to the end.
I keep picturing families in the early part of the 20th century, when women were still having 12 children, and not all would survive. Wow. Things have changed so much. Not only the fact that we as human beings living in one of the more developed nations are living well into our 90's, but that most of our children survive. Even more crazy, that we have cats and dogs that are so well cared for that they are living into their late teens!
I am not sure whether we try to keep ourselves and our animals alive for so long because we are simply able to, or whether we are so afraid of death and so attached to attachement that we focus on living longer instead of just living.
What do you think?
Either way, this is a superior rant isn't it?
Time to follow it up with a few things we are looking forward to:
A few more good snow falls. Stephen's birthday. Spring planting. Baby chicks. New puppies (eventually). Family time. Baking. Farmer's Markets. Fresh veggies. Visitors. Disc golf.
I feel pretty blessed for the experiences that we are having out here. Whether they be the multitude of new challenges, or the unexpected periods of loss and mourning. It is all a means to a greater understanding of ourselves, our own lives... and our own mortality.
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