An Introduction

Some people wake up in the morning and make coffee or read the paper before going to work. I do that too but now my work includes running a farm. I once led the life of a refined desk and classroom bound academic but no more.

It is early morning at Ravensfield Farm and the ducks honk and quack as they waddle down the hall, out the barn door and into the pond. They are as boisterous as toddlers high on Cocoa Puffs. The chickens, on the other hand are my lazy debutantes who sleep late and prefer breakfast in bed. Ah but when the rooster crows, the debutantes awake and obediently follow him into the yard adjacent to my quacking toddler ducks but clucking quietly all the way.

Exhaling as slowly as I can (inhaling not being the most pleasant option) I gather eggs, change the drinking water, and sweep out the stalls with as much industry as I can muster without caffeine.

I set out food for the barn cats. I know, I shouldn't feed feral cats who earn their keep by catching mice. But I am a children’s literature academic raised on Dick Whittington and Puss in Boots and that hungry cat and her kittens have become archetypes for motherhood and childhood! So fear not, the mouse population thrives at Ravensfield Farm.

Walking back to the house, eagles fly overhead returning to their nest by our lake. A pileated woodpecker scales a tree looking for insects, and blue jays squabble over peanuts. I inhale the air and savor these gifts from Nature.

Our three Labrador retrievers, Charlotte Mae, Ben, and Oliver, beg me for walks and exercise, and training. Mostly, I feed them treats. These are city dogs transposed to the farm, after all. Training and agrarian labor is not on their agenda.

We also have cats who are actual house pets—all ten of them. Two are purebred, and the others are rescues, orphaned kittens or hungry strays who stole their way into the house and our hearts.

So it goes on the farm. Animals, the focus of my life and the inspiration for my work. I am desk bound no more. I exhale.