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AWAY FROM THE CITY

A three-week visit with our daughter, husband and two grandchildren on their mini ranch in Alberta was an experience, which will last for a long time.

Little did I know animal scents would try to drive me to distractions. Not being born on a farm meant my nostrils were quite sensitive. And my feet were careful never to step in any kind of cow pie. Nor lift a 5-tine fork, shunting aside growing piles of manure.

This holiday trip with my wife, Esther, was an education for myself, a town boy, from the mining community of Rouyn-Noranda, Quebec. I soon learned to work among piles of poop like any sweating, ole boy farm hand.

Dad always said how hard it was working on his dad's farm. In 1941 he escaped those chores by enlisting in the Second World War. I always thought that was a bit drastic. At first, it seemed easy to hide from chores after my wife and I arrived in early September.

It snowed large flakes, and singing Christmas carols was not appreciated. But, I soon learned work must be completed, regardless of weather.

Ernie, the horse required monitoring in his distant pasture. Also the neat Llamas, especially Buckwheat's fatherly eye keeping watch over four males. Then we helped supervise four donkeys, 12 Dexter mini-cows, 20 sheep, two dogs; Storm, a proud Pyrenees' dog, Misty a farm dog and Mother the cat.

Why not look after them? I wondered. There seemed to be ample strands of grass, hay or grain lingering about. Surely animals could wander around and eat, but, not so.

Morning came early, each day of the twenty-one we spent there. Eeyore's 5 am braying made sure humans jumped out of bed. Have you ever tried to capture sleep after hollering across the sky, from a donkey's healthy set of lungs? He could easily be heard a quarter of a mile away.

Each night's coyote chorus was like the tinkling of pleasant chimes compared a donkey's raucous voice. First the sheep received their snack of grain. Something had to be done to quell their combined "Baaing" which assaulted our ears with full exclamation points.

"Okay, you can stop now, treats are coming." After which, their pen was opened and they flooded out for a days worth of grass munching. A few older and wiser sheep slyly returned to mouth up any last bits before responding to calls from their young ones. Or should I say their persistent BAA-BAA calls were more like whining for their mother. Animals and children are so much alike in their actions.

Hay was quickly brought to the other animals that soon

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