FINNEGAN THE CAT, STEAK AND HAMBURGER - THE TWO HEIFERS

 Finnegan - Our Cheshire Kitty

          Life on the farm aint half bad says Finnegan the cat.  I got me the run of the place, all the measly mice, squirmy squirrels, buxom birds and any other rascally rodent I can creep up on and sink my sharp little fangs and claws into - rip the little buggers to shreds and pick my teeth with their bones.  And, since I do a lot of napping, I have a lot of cozy little nooks I can curl up into and dream about all the tasty little morsels that hang around this place they call Golden Unicorn Farm and why they call it that is beyond the tip of my long sensitive whiskers; I've got eyes as sharp as an eagle's and I aint yet seen a single unicorn around this place.  But then again, I'm a feisty, furry, frisky feline, a real predator and they've most likely heard about my persistent pussy prowess; I'm a tiger in disguise and they're most likely scared of me.  I must be the toughest critter around here on four legs, even the dog cowers and yelps like a baby whenever the heavens start thundering, fireworks go blasting off into the sky and someone dressed in camouflage goes tripping by like Mr. McGoo after a wascally wabbit and fires his rifle.  Yeah, I'm tough, I'm tough, rough and tough like a tom cat should be.  The critters around here don't call me tom - I'm Mr. Tom to them.  The people who live here think that I'm being affectionate with them when I saunter on over, purring my own personal song (should actually put it to music and become a rock star) and rub my body sensually along their legs; they aint figured it out yet; that's the best way to get rid of my winter's hair; sticks like glue to their pants.  Well enough said about me, think it's time for me to find one of my choice beds - ah yeah, under the metal roof on Lenny's studio is one of my favourites - talk to you again some time.

Limousin Feeder Heifers

          My friend Justin Higgs and I bought us a couple of heifers last Monday at the auction.  They're noted for their muscular bodies - not sure about their disposition or brain power but that doesn't matter.  I don't particularly want to be their friend or enroll them later in Cattle University.  Now some people like to be real friendly like with their cows and give them cutesy names like Flossie, Elsie or Cowlick Harry but the names that seems to fit these two the best are Steak and Hamburger.  I imagine a lot of people think I have no feelings and that I'm cruel to have these sort of thoughts; I only really care about how good they will smell roasting on a bar-b-q and then slapped down on my dinner plate, alongside a baked potatoe and some succulent greens - maybe wash it all back with an ice cold beer.  A person can't get all emotional and too attached but I, and I expect Justin will be the same, will treat them with respect and look after all their needs while we have them for a short time before they head on off to the slaughter house and come back home gift wrapped in brown paper.  I know, I know, I think it's somewhat sad and savage as well, but I have a couple of teeth sharp as a wild animal's k-nines, jaws of steel and a taste for blood (face it, mankind is the meanest predator this Earth has ever seen - bar nonbe - not even the dinosaurs) and I'm not proud to be that way, but like it or not, I am.  The way I see it, I've eaten one hell of a lot of beef during my almost 72 years and whether I have the power to do the critters in myself or the slaughter house has the honors; it's just something that will happen - not quite like going to the local supermarket and checking out all the packaged beef through a clear cellophane wrapper, politely saying please and thank you to the butcher; the end result is the same.

          I grew up in Vancouver-town; a great huge city busting at the seams and I made an unusual great deal of money living the city way; slabs of beef, cooked to perfection by chefs with high culinary skills, were set before me in lavish manners many times, but fortunately, part of those years touched me in a country style of living and I discovered, now that I'm residing in the country, sort of semi-wilderness country, I'm more in touch with reality, quite possibly more in tune with my actual soul.  The paper chase has got nothing on trying to chase a couple of Limousin  heifers into the barn.  Here in the country, one has to face the weather conditions, feel the heart-beat of the land and its critters, be in sympathy with one's surroundings and appreciate whatever abundance it affords without destroying everything - it's a give/take situation but should never be a love/hate situation.  I don't just put in time, work my nine to five and pick up a paycheque, I have to physically maintain a constant appreciation of Mother Nature - her nutrients are my own.  That's not to say the annoying ding of a cash register isn't part of my repertoire, it's just that here, it's more of a hands-on experience.  Like Finnegan the cat; killing is part of the process of staying alive and like it or not, I have to respect that, and I find, I am no different - cheers, eh! 

MOOSEHEAD BEER, SOLITUDE AND RANDOM THOUGHTS

          It's a rainy afternoon; close to dinner time.  However, at the moment, although I'm not hungry, I feel like writing and since I have a powerful thirst for a great tasting beer; that's what I'm doing; writing a blog and sipping a Moosehead, Pale Ale, New Brunswick's finest.  Now, how lucky am I to have these simple luxuries and in such a peaceful and serene place as Golden Unicorn Farm, which is situated on 50 acres at the base of Green Mountain; one might say I'm having a Green Mountain high; just relaxing to some comfortable classical music wafting through the studio and enjoying my solitude.  It's kind of odd, when I think back through my life, how solitary I've been, even with two wives, six kids and I've lost count of the girlfriends that I loved as well.
          The wind is blowing steadily, often with violent gusts and as I watch the harmonious swaying of the trees growing all the way up the side of Green Mountain, the lights sometimes flickering and threatening to go out, like they did last night, while I was sleeping all alone; oblivious to the rain smacking the widow pane just above my head, I am in awe of Nature's freedom and the simple wonders of this planet Earth, which I call home and love and cherish so much.  If I could have a wish; peace is not high on my list; there's nothing wrong with a good healthy war to kill off a great many men and keep the population under control.  I also suspect, if women had rights equivalent to the men, the population wouldn't be at such an extreme number and the world wouldn't be in as much trouble either.
          Ah ha, just what I was worried about, the pesky wind blew out a transformer or knocked a power line down because the power went out for a couple of hours.  My lackadaisical mellow thoughts and philosophical pandering somehow have lost their way and as I sit, sipping another Moosehead, I fear the pattern that was shaping up in my mind is now misplaced.  It doesn't take much any more to sidetrack me; unless I have an immediate goal that needs fulfilling, I'm apt to meander off like a gentle stream and flow to another source of inspiration.
          My wife Sarah is somewhere between here and Halifax with her daughter Jessica, who is now recovering from surgery.  Her last Internet message was that she would be taking it slow and easy because of the rain and to prevent Jessica from feeling anymore pain than necessary.  At this point of the day, I'm hoping she is not more than a couple of hours away and reaches home before it gets dark.  On the narrow, curvy road from the highway to home can be a difficult drive especially if it is during a torrential downpour and a moose decides to cross the road just as the car is coming around a sharp corner.  They are huge and very difficult to see; it's unbelievable how quickly they disappear into the forest after crossing the road, even on the brightest sunlit days.
          The past winter was very harsh, some of the people I know who tend bee hives, lost their bees.  One never thinks too much about bees, especially their usefulness.  Being stung by a bee is our highest priority but  what I recently learned; the bees are in desperate times; their numbers have dropped dramatically.  Scientists say that if the bees disappear, within four years after their disappearance, mankind will join them in their extinction.  Extreme winter conditions have always been hard on the bee population but since the crazed use of toxic repellents and the general world weather conditions taking a major turn for the worse; there is no doubt that we humans are in trouble as well.  When our so called world leaders start pleading for ecology rather than economy; we will be in real trouble, but unfortunately, it will be too late to recover.  Like David Suzuki says, the world is like a car heading for a brick wall and we're all arguing about where we want to sit.
          My second Moosehead Pale Ale is down to the last swallow, and although there is room enough inside me for another and I have considered doing so, I think, like writing this blog, I'll just down the last swallow and call it a day - cheers, eh!

SURGERY, GRADUATION AND LIFE GOES ON

          The sun has finally burnt away the clouds; if only it had done the same with those pesky mosquitoes.  I do believe we've had more than our share of rain and I know the New Brunswick farmers are suffering from the continual deluges - I can't imagine what it was like for Noah when it rained for 40 days and 40 nights - it must have been one heavy unimaginable downpour because it's rained off and on for a long time now and we're still above water.
          Sarah and Jessica are in Halifax and will be there for several days.  Injuries resulting from a severe automobile accident when Jess was almost three years of age has taken them to Children's Hospital where she will undergo an operation this morning, to help mend a collar bone that never healed properly.  Apparently, the surgeon is going to remove a small portion of bone from her left hip and attach it to her right collar bone, which should then hold it in place properly.  Jessica is very fortunate to be alive today and in as good as shape as she is, especially since her left arm was almost completely severed at the shoulder and both her legs were broken in the accident.  The way she runs and leaps around, except for some major scars, one would never know that she had almost been killed along with her dad on that fateful day on Jingle Pot Road in Nanaimo, BC.
          Although that accident changed the lives of Sarah's family, it also changed mine.  I had actually been the best man at her wedding and caught her garter, which I believe means that I would be the next to marry - who would have thought years later, after her husband was killed, that I would be his replacement.  Not sure if way back when in the days of yore, if that was the best man's duty or not, but if it was, I guess I filled the bill.
          Summer is almost upon us and the "Lakers" are now in full swing, returning to their "camps" or cottages that are quaintly tucked around the lakes.  Since Sarah opened her wee coffee shop a few weekends ago (only open on weekends), some of their friendly, smiling faces are beginning to brighten our doorway once again.  I filled in for her yesterday and although it was a cloudy, somewhat dismal day, I actually served a few of them, plus some friends like Bill Leeman and his son Brendan - we had a  hard on the stomach from laughing so hard, good time.  Not sure if Sarah and Jessica will return by the next weekend but if not, guess I'll have to don her apron once again and open up the coffee shop.
          Besides Jessica's operation, Rachel, her other daughter, is graduating this year, which to me as far as pomp and ceremony goes, is beginning to rival the Queen's Coronation; one almost needs a royal larder full of gold and priceless jewels to participate in this event.  I sometimes wonder if the celebration for graduation is the educational system's way of covering up the lack of education the kids are now receiving.  Sadly, from what I can decipher, Rachel's grade 12 is about equivalent to my Grade 10 or lower.  The future of our civilization, which is rather calamitous, could possibly be bordering on extinction, I'm just completely bewildered why the government has cut educational development, especially when unfortunately, because of my generation and the next generation's lack of concern for the Earth, this new generation and the one following will be left with hardly any natural resources to carry on - water and food being a premium - we can't drink or eat bloody oil.  Rachel has been packing her bags for the past few weeks, since she is leaving home, I believe, the day after graduation.  She is moving to her grandma's place in Lethbridge, Alta. and her boyfriend Adrian is going to work in the oilfields.  I'm sad to say, I don't have much respect for him to work at such a place, where a huge amount of Alberta has been turned into a toxic wasteland in order to earn a few paltry bucks.  But then our poorly managed government and our poor excuse of education have left them and many other young people just as ignorant as the day they began school, so what is to be expected, especially when because of the media and internet these days, they are led to believe that what a person wears and what they drive are somehow the most important things to acquire.
          But I ramble and babble on, and why bother says I, only a wee few nod their heads in agreement and most can't see, won't see or have never taken the time to see the perils that every living being upon this planet is now facing in a not very distant future.  Many believe that science will come up with a solution like the US Cavalry suddenly appearing out of no where when all looks lost.  From what I've read, the scientists are telling us to beware and that there isn't any big miracle cure for our survival if we don't make drastic and I mean severely drastic changes to our lifestyles and our way of thinking.  Well, before I get too carried away with my rant and write more than anyone will ever care to read on this blog, it's time for me to do some chores around my little world of paradise.  I don't look at the 50 acres I bought as ownership - to me, I am the caretaker of what abides here and as long as I live, everything is safe, and I mean everything, right from a blade of grass to a pesky mosquitoe - only natural disasters and of course self-preservation rule here - cheers, eh!