The barn cats stayed in the barn to eat and each had a spot where their food was laid down in an upside down lid or bowl. Each porch cats had it's separate spot where food was laid down, and the same thing indoors with the house cats.
They used to have open houses each fall or I guess it'd be more accurate to say it was an open farm where the public was welcomed. That is how we met them. We came with a mutual friend, recruited as volunteers to stand at particular stations on the farm, greet guests and provide information. My daughter was six or seven at the time. She and I were given the kangaroo area. Marsharee, one of the owners, gave me basic information to provide to guests about the kangaroos. She would come back to check on us several times throughout the day and provide more detailed information. She also would laughingly whisper strange and unusual facts about the kangaroos including their sex lives. I wish I could remember all those facts. I passed some of them on to women guests whom I judged to be receptive. We had a fun station.
As for caged animals that are not domesticated I used to not really think about it and enjoyed the occasional visit to a zoo. But now that I spend more time outside catching glimpses of wild animals and reading about them and having volunteered at Project Chimps in Morgantown, Georgia, I am less enamored of animals being caged and more respectful (and in awe, actually) of the intelligence of animals. I have learned more about wild animals by volunteering at Project Chimps. They are housing chimps that have never lived in the wild so they can't be returned to what should have been their habitat. But they have created a habitat that is a close as they can come to what it should have been while still keeping the chimps safe.
And the domesticated animals, the factory farms, are another subject. I hate eating meat when I think about the cows, pigs and chickens raised in their own shit from birth to death. That is awful.
We, the humans, with our arrogance and our need to dominate everything and do everything as cheaply as possible so as to make a profit, that's what I'm not really enamored of. But it is what it is and I love many of the people who don't t think as I do. For instance, my grandchildren have caged wild animals not meant to be domesticated. It breaks my heart. A turtle in a tiny glass aquarium just sitting there. Sitting there. Sitting there. It reminds me of the rules of three for humans: you can survive three minutes without air, three hours without shelter, three days without water, three weeks without food and three months without hope. Those are rules of thumb (love that phrase) for humans. With the stupid ass reality shows viewers are noticing that the human idiots they chose to be on the shows give up in three seconds so idiocy is warping the rules of three. They are saying three seconds without hope. That just kills me. That shows how our human species are so entitled and spoiled and stupid. We've lost our way. But I digress. Back to animals. I wonder what their rules of survival are. We see in the zoos and our family's caged pets a lack of zest, a sadness, if you will, in the caged animals. Some, like the kangaroos, tend to bond to humans if they are snagged from their mother's early enough. If I remember right, that was the case with the kangaroos. Still. There is nothing like the sight of a wild animal in their natural habitat doing their thing.
The llama farm ceased to be a working farm, meaning that they stopped selling the wool, years ago. And somewhere early in the working farm process, our friends, the owners, started taking in animals that were abandoned or abused, like the pot bellied pig. And each of the animals, even as a working llama farm, had names and personalities which were appreciated. Each of the llamas had a separate eating place in the barns. Each of the donkeys had their own bowls and we stayed to make sure they were not nosed out by another. But as time went on, the farm was attriting the animals. They lived out the rest of their lives in comfort, closely monitored by the owners. The vet was called in as needed. The animals were euthanized if it was determined they were in pain and could not be made comfortable through meds.
So now there are only two llamas left, KC and Portia, and three donkeys, Barry, and I can't remember the other two names. There are several chickens and they give fresh eggs. And still, there are lots of cats though they are attriting too. There is one little fucky dog (I use that term with love, actually, for any little yapper) that was acquired just a few years back from an SPCA or pound.
The owners are getting ready to sell the farm and move to Delaware where they will probably build a nice house near Lewes or Rehobeth. So that is the long story behind our fence mending. We are using old boards from other fence lines to repair the fences. Some are barely holding up. It's really just for esthetics. Selling a farm with broken down fences just won't cut it. The old gray fences are charming if not fully useful. They keep in the two llamas though, and we thought they'd keep in the three donkeys. But I received a text that Barry, one of the donkey's had stepped through a fence line that we'd neglected to fully repair. We'd forgotten to return to that section of the paddock. It took a couple weeks before Barry went for a walk. I heard he was full of himself. Happy and proud to be out exploring new territory rather than just viewing it from afar. It's a sweet visualization.
Barry is the brown donkey on the right. All three are ancient. Or nearly so in donkey years. But they still have wonderful personalities. I think the donkeys have always been our favorites. We took care of Barry on year when we farm-sat (we've done it a couple of times for a couple weeks each time) when he had a hoof infection. We had to call the vet out because he was limping. She cleaned it and did what she does and we had to wash it in a bucket of clean water everyday and apply antibiotics or something. I don't remember exactly but that sounds right.
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