Bank-Shot Bodhi

Monday, January 30, 2012

Photo by Audrey Pavia

Bodhi is surprisingly athletic.

If I were a rural farmer instead of an urban one, I'd have several barn cats that would spend their days stalking mice and chasing butterflies. But I have an urban farm, which means I not only have to worry about coyotes eating a barn cat, but I also have to take into account the threat of speeding cars, territorial neighborhood cats and sadistic teenage boys. So, my urban-farm cats live indoors, where they work at keeping rodents outdoors (only mice with a death wish would set a paw inside this house), and regularly send flies to meet their maker.

But cats are cats, whether they are outdoor or in. Even though mine can't climb trees or leap to the top of a haystack, they find other ways to show off their athleticism. That's where my little gray tabby, Bodhi, comes in.

A compact little creature, Bodhi is the smallest of my three males. His round face and saucer-like eyes make me think of the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland.

We adopted Bodhi when he was 8 weeks old after seeing him at a Petco. He was in a cage all alone — a tiny, gray fuzzball.

Bodhi spent the first several months sitting in my lap while I worked at my computer. He cuddled and I fussed over him. And then he grew up to be a bit weird, like most cats.

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Horse Talk

Monday, January 23, 2012

Photo by Audrey Pavia

Milagro and Rio tell me they love me.

I’ve been in love with horses since I was a little girl. This unending passion started at around age 9 and never quit. For most of my horse-loving childhood, I rode rental horses at stables near my house. I’d fall in love with a particular horse for awhile, the way other little girls developed fleeting crushes on boys. Then, that horse would be sold, my heart would break and I’d bravely fall in love again.

Every horse I became attached to was my special one; I dreamed about her being mine. I say “her” because they were almost always mares. I had to share these rental horses with a plethora of other people who rented them by the hour. I desperately wanted a sign from one of these horses that I was her special person — that she liked me the most out of everyone.

In the movies, horses always neighed to their masters. These loyal equines could spot their special person in a crowd of hundreds, whinnying with joy at the sight of the human they loved the most. I so wanted this to happen for me. Just once, I wanted my special rental horse to whinny when she saw me. But it never happened.

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Pets or Producers?

Monday, January 16, 2012

A few weeks ago, I wrote about how my hens haven't been laying for months. My neighbor’s chickens haven't been producing either, so I chalked it up to some weird weather we've been having, and the fact that it's winter, and egg production goes down when the sun is scarce.

After posting that blog, I received several comments from readers saying that, after about three years, hens stop laying. I was surprised to hear this and was inclined to dismiss it, not only because I'd never come across this statement in anything I'd read about chickens, but also because my neighbor's hens also aren't laying.

Then I found out that my neighbor's hens are also three years old.

If it's true that egg production slows down or stops altogether when a hen hits three, have a dilemma on my hands. One of the main reasons I got chickens was so I could have fresh eggs. Well-cared-for hens can live to be more than 10 years old. Does that mean I'm going to have these chickens for seven more years and not get any more eggs?

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