Massages, the Steer Run-In Sheds and Some Buddhism Thrown in for Good Measure

Today, Joanne Ehret came to the farm. She's a massage therapist, licensed in the State of NY, and also a long-time volunteer. After a morning of cleaning waterers, she agreed to show me how to massage some of our residents who could really use a massage. Probably they all could use a massage, but some more than others. 

We started with Pete. 

Pete's case history: he's a Duroc pig, which is a breed often used by factory farms. Which means that Durocs are bred to grow really fast so the factory farms can sell them to slaughter fast. The problem being that piglets can often grow too fast for their joints and ligaments and whatnot to catch up. So they develop issues like splayed legs. It's a syndrome: splay leg. You can look it up. Anyway, Pete was rescued by a kind soul from a farmer who was going to let him die because he was the runt of the litter. 

The kind soul didn't know from pig nutrition, though, and fed Pete donuts and junk food. So in addition to having splay leg, Pete got really fat and soon couldn't walk. So he spent several months just sitting on the concrete slab where the kind soul kept him (the kindness is more and more replaced with ignorance until WFAS makes an appearance in the story). Enter WFAS, who took Pete, now overweight, unable to walk and suffering from flat-ass syndrome (not actually a syndrome, at least not for pigs). 

At WFAS, Pete loses weight, starts to walk, makes a miraculous recovery from his flat-ass and can actually stand up by himself. BUT, he still has the stiffness in his back legs from the splay leg issue. 

Enter Joanne. 

Pete is laying with his good side out when she first approaches him. She massages him and then he seems to get up--is he irritated? No, he turns over to the other side, the one with the really stiff leg and then lays down again. 

Joanne shows me how to gently push his hip back in toward his body, easing the splaying. 

Pete is silent and in heaven until I start doing annoying things like petting him on the head and talking. He rightfully nips at my knee and I stop. 

Pete falls back into a Happy Pig Trance.

Next up is Albie, the famous goat who has been on the cover of the New York Times Lifestyle Section. Albie is missing his left front leg. Despite many attempts, Albie's team of renowned prosthetists have not found the right prototype yet. So he walks by throwing his weight forward and to the right.

Word of Joanne must be getting around the farm, because while we're on our way from the barn out to the field, Albie positions himself on a flat rock--the perfect position for a massage on his front legs and shoulders.

Joanne starts in and notices how tight his shoulder and scapular are on the right side. But he likes getting massaged on his left side too, the side without the leg--Joanne says he likes getting the blood flow going into his muscles. Albie moves only to stretch his leg out a little or to slide forward so Joanne can reach the muscles on his chest.

The other goats gather to watch and then also to do the goaty thing of trying to stir up some trouble. I maneuver them away.

Albie stays on the massage rock (as it now is known) for at least a half hour.

Joanne and I move on to try her magic on the pigs, Andy and Cromwell, but it's time to do some steer run-in-shed cleaning. Which is always part of the balance: the must-be-done and the should-be-done, although really much of the time, I'm not sure which is which. We might say shed-cleaning, the animals might say massaging. It all seems important.

The cleaning of the shed is maybe the "chop wood, carry water" that the Buddhists talk about. But while we're pitchforking out dirty straw, we say very little. What flowed between our hands and Albie, Pete and the others, fills our hearts. And that's enough.