Deer Season

Deer season is just around the corner, and although I don't bow hunt (firearms season doesn't open until 11/13/11) , I'm already getting excited. Hunting is a complex subject for me, as an animal lover and vet student, because it is usually my main objective to save the life of an animal, not to take it.

Deer hunting (and hunting in general) is a very controversial subject, but  hunting is necessary to control the population in order to maintain the delicate balance in the ecosystem.

Deer overpopulation harms natural ecosystems. In high deer density areas, deer browsing prevents the regeneration of forests as deer eat nearly all the tree seedlings, destroy forest understory plants, and reduce overall species richness. Several studies found that deer browsing significantly reduces songbird numbers by destroying their habitats. [Source]

If an animal's life needs to be taken, I'd like to be the one to do it. This way I can ensure that the animal will die with respect, in the most humane way possible, and it's sacrifice will not go unappreciated. I think it is the obligation of the hunter to utilize all parts of the animal, if possible.

A few weeks ago I was headed down to the barn to lock up the chickens, and this freestyle rap popped into my head. I kept repeating it to myself and started writing it down as soon as I got into the house. The words started spilling out of my pen onto the paper and it's almost as if I was engaged in some weird stream of consciousness. I wrote until I felt I was finished, not stopping to revise or edit along the way. I made very few revisions once I was done, and this is the result. Enjoy.

I don’t hunt for the thrill

Of the kill

I hunt to fulfill

My need

To feed

And I need

To know

Where my food has been

And where it will go

Before it hits my plate



Maybe you can relate

Food factories

Are filled with disease

But you ask for another serving

Please

Stop and think

It’s no longer safe to eat your steak pink




Mother Nature provides the means

And the seeds

To allow us to maintain

And become sustain-able

So we can put real food on the table


My fingers quiver
As I pull the trigger

And under my breath I say a quick prayer

To thank the being
That I’ll later be eating

In good taste

I vow to never let a single piece go to waste

I dig my hands into the earth

And thank our Mother for the birth

Of every living being

That brings

Us closer to completing the ring

Around the circle of life


Every rock, and tree, and creature

Is a feature

Upon Mother Nature’s face

And in this place
I feel that we are one

And we have won

The moment we realize the gift we have been given

This is not Earth. This is Heaven. 

Poetry

Poetry has always been my favorite form of literature, both to read and to write. I became nearly obsessed with haiku a few years ago, and it continues to be my favorite poetic form. I've recently submitted some of my writing for a literary magazine to be published by my school, Brown Mackie College, and I thought I would share some of my haiku submissions here. Enjoy.

Chicago, 2009-2010:


Five-seven-five is

Much harder to accomplish

When you've "had a few"

...

sitting on the beach

a frosty beer in my hand

a lush's life: grand

...

Finding yourself out

Learning more about the world

Learning not to care

…

Yours hands: Just like his

I see his face when you smile

He would be so proud

…

a single stingray

ocean vast and frightening

swimming towards hope

…

Oak instead of Palm

We found our homes by water

City by the lake

…

(09/21/09)

New to the city

Looking for the perfect one

Student; twenty-three

…

An awkward rising

My mistake sleeps next to me

Drunken one-night stand

…

Cross-eyed, view askew

Sky-scraper sways in the wind

A wandering thought                                                                                 

…

Curious moon-man

Peeking for eternity

Oh, the things he’s seen!

…

Ever-peeping Tom

Makes nightly observations

Stranger in the moon

…

Bumper-to-bumper

Lives of city residents

Caught up in traffic

…

City sounds abound

Unexpected breeze blows in

Window left open

…

Shrinking city view

A visit home, overdue

Not home anymore

…

Address change request

“State and city,” Post-man pressed

Changed my mind and left

…

(10/11/2009)

A fascination

The thin line we are walking

Unpredictable

…

(05/18/2010)

An ageless instinct

Guilty curiosity

Morality wins

…

(05/19/2010)

Windswept limbs and leaves

Bark split where cruel lightning struck

Shaded garden grows

…

World none the wiser

A ladybug climbs blades of grass

So significant

…

Cherry blossom blooms

Carried by the winds of spring

Certain wilting looms

…

shadow lies in wait

dimly shrill Death looms silent

gratifying chase

…

Indiana, 2011

Hypnotizing hum

Time ticks by with squinting eyes

Begging for a blink

…

I became part of an online discussion forum for Haiku, via Craigslist, when I moved to Chicago. Every day the moderator has a competition for who can write the best haiku based on the daily subject. The other writers then vote on the Haiku through a point system, and the winner is given the opportunity to choose the subject for the next competition. I won several of these contests, and they became a daily obsession for me. I've highlighted the subject in bold for the poems that were written for the forum. All of these haiku were written in Indiana in 2011.

Buds and blooms quiver

Anticipating Spring’s warmth

Winter’s slumber ends

…

Ninety acres wave

Summer stalks sway in sunlight

Mother Nature’s gold

…

Eager Blue jays sing

Chipmunks gather cones and nuts

Early signs of Spring

…

sneaking through shingles

Spring sending in her soldiers

drumming in tin cups

…

Tin cup of coffee

Cabin with wood-burning stove

Wintery retreat

…

Tin cups by the fire

Cowboys sharing war stories

A spring cattle drive

…

Daily street sermons

Collection plate: tin cup

Homeless preacher man

…

Wrinkled red skins age

Becoming sweeter with time

Sun-dried tomatoes

People Watching

This selection is a journal assignment from my Intro to Literature class, in which we were instructed to sit, people watch, and listen in on the conversations we heard. Enjoy.

“People Watching”

I can see her nerves mounting as the hostess seats them at the far table near the window. She takes the distant seat, closest to the isle, and he sits across from her. He fidgets with his phone as she decides where to put her belongings. I catch him stealing a glimpse of her décolleté as she turns to hang her purse on the back of her chair. The waitress introduces herself and takes their drink order: A margarita on the rocks for him, and a Corona for her. I enjoy a quick, awkward silence between them before the waitress returns with a basket of chips and a bowl of salsa. He is admiring her as she thanks the waitress, but she doesn’t seem to notice; I wonder if she is too nervous to lock eyes with him, as though the act would somehow reveal her innermost thoughts. She smiles a lot as they talk, but she nervously glances out the window every few moments. His eyes never leave her. Her hands fidget under the table as she talks, but lay still in her lap when he speaks. She watches his mouth as they converse, as though his crater-like dimples are hypnotizing her.

            He’s extremely handsome and physically fit, though it’s obvious he’s a few years her senior. Her body is slightly awkward, but she has a beautifully fresh face and a smile that could outshine the sun. There is an undeniable chemistry building between them, and I hypothesize that they were set up through mutual friends, and I am witness to their first date. The conversation becomes lighter as the waitress delivers their drinks, and takes their food order. The waitress walks away and a quiet moment passes as they both quench their thirsts with their newly acquired libations.

There is something innocent in the way her looks at her – he lifts his eyes but his chin is lightly tucked downward. She slouches slightly, except when she catches herself doing so, and corrects her posture (which doesn’t last long.) An employee arrives tableside, and prepares for them a fresh guacamole. She reaches behind her and pulls out two one-dollar bills from her purse. “What’s that for?” He inquires. “For him,” she replies, shifting her eyes towards the young man mixing the guacamole. “Oh!” He replies, as she tucks the money into the tip jar. “Gracias,” she says, with a curiously authentic accent for a young Caucasian woman. He seems impressed, though I’m not sure whether it is by her generosity, or her accent.

They take turns dipping chips into the earthy green treat, taking care to never grab a chip from the basket at the same time, possibly for fear that if their hands touch the ensuing sparks could catch the nearby curtains on fire. The waitress brings the entrees shortly after, and the conversations seems to cease. Each of her bites is deliberate, yet delicate, and he eats at twice her speed. He offers her a taste of his meal, but she declines, blushing. A short time later, the waitress drops off Styrofoam to-go boxes, and they deposit their uneaten food into their respective receptacles, and split the leftover guacamole evenly.

               The waitress drops off the bill, and the three of them chat for a moment while he retrieves a credit card from his wallet. She has a twinge of protest on her face, and insists that he allow her to leave the tip, as the waitress leaves to run his card. He agrees, and she pulls a ten-dollar bill from her purse. The waitress returns with the credit card slip. He signs it, and they’re off. 

The Cat's Meow

This is another writing assignment from my composition class, a comparison/contrast essay, that I thought I would share. Enjoy.

The Cat's Meow

Growing up, my family always enjoyed the company of cats, and though my father was hardly passionate about animals, he did not object to having a feline to meander about the house. Many cats have come and gone through the years, but two particular cats will always have a special place reserved in my heart: Kit Kat, a Maine Coon, and Sammy, an American Shorthair. Though both domesticated house cats, each possessed its own personality and lifestyle.

We acquired Kit Kat through a local animal shelter, where they rescued her from an abandoned barn. Her appearance was a little rough around the edges, but I saw the potential for beauty that she possessed, with her long brown and black striped fur, with a tail reminiscent of a feather boa that stretched for miles. The markings around her vivid emerald eyes made it appear as though she was wearing Cleopatra-style eyeliner. Letting out a quiet meow as I approached her enclosure, she captured my heart, and I begged my parents for permission to take her home.

Although her mother had abandoned Kit Kat, it was apparent that she had handled her newfound independence with grace. The Maine Coon breed is renowned for possessing superior hunting skills, and she had obviously put those skills to use to sustain her while living in the vacant barn. Far from emaciated, it was difficult to believe that Kit Kat was a rescue animal. It took her a few days to cozy up to her new-fangled surroundings after bringing her home, but she and I formed an instant connection, and she slept in my bed that first night, never bothering to warm up to anyone else.

Once Kit Kat was acclimated to her new domicile, it became a struggle to keep her indoors. I am unsure if it was her Maine Coon instincts, or her familiarity with living outside that made her so fascinated with the outdoors, but it became very apparent that she was going to be an outdoor cat. Most evenings she would return home to snuggle with me in bed, but some nights she would remain outside all night, exploring the neighborhood. There were many mornings that she greeted us at the front door bearing the evidence of a scuffle, but it was always apparent that she had been the victorious party.

My mother tended a sizeable garden surrounding our residence, and Kit Kat treated it as her personal hunting grounds. She provided her pest control services frequently, and even killed a mole that had eluded my father’s rifle on many occasions. Bunnies, birds, and mice were regular victims during her reign as the domestic jungle queen, and no mole dared to invade our yard ever again. Regardless of the season, Kit Kat was constantly patrolling the yard, hunting for her next target.

Long after the era of Kit Kat, we acquired Sammy from a family whose cat had given birth to kittens unexpectedly. He was the most handsome cat of the litter, and even as a kitten, the markings of his fur were prevalent. The majority of his coat was short and grey, and his toes and a bib-like section that extended from his mouth to his chest were white, which gave him the appearance of having a little beard and mustache. His eyes were goldenrod yellow, and practically glowed in the dark.

Sammy initially warmed up to my mother first, and it was not uncommon to find him lying on her chest while she read a book. He was very affectionate and playful, and loved to display his athleticism by doing high jumps to attack toys. As he got older, his relationship with my mother faded, and he began to favor the company of my father’s lap. I am convinced that the nightly treats my father provided were a major factor in the transition of affection.

Like Kit Kat, Sammy also proved difficult to keep indoors, and we reluctantly allowed him outside. He never wandered much further than our backyard, and would only rarely venture beyond our property. He would be outside from sunrise to sunset in the warmer seasons, and even braved the snow for short periods in his younger years. As he aged, though, he favored experiencing the outdoors by sitting in the kitchen window and feeling the breeze through the screen. He preferred the companionship of a family member for his outdoor excursions, and occasionally kept my mother company as she worked in the garden. Sammy was never much of a hunter, and his only kill was an occasional moth.

Both cats were beautiful in their own way, and neither could combat the inclination to be outdoors. Most domesticated house cats are content with an indoor existence, but these two cats felt the need to explore life in a different way. Both felines were also affectionate, and formed a powerful connection with at least one member of my family. Although Kit Kat was a Maine Coon and Sammy was an America Shorthair, they both grew to be similar in size and weight, close to 20 pounds each. It was obvious though, that neither understood the reality of their own volume, when they attempted to snuggle with their favorite person. Kit Kat was so immense that she crowded my full-sized bed, and often tried to nestle beside my neck in a recess where only a kitten could fit. Sammy insisted on snuggling on my mother’s chest directly under her chin, and demanded every square inch of my father’s lap to sprawl his body. Both cats were wonderful pets and enriched my existence in many ways, and despite having genetic similarities, like humans, their personalities differed greatly.

Autobiography

This is an assignment from my Composition II class that I thought I would share, for those of you who don't know me, and for those of you who would like to know more about me. <3

02 September 2011

Autobiography

            I am not exactly at the point in my life that I thought I would be at age 26, but I am in the process of traveling down the path that will direct me to where I want to be in the future. My life has been far from difficult, although I have had my fair share of hardships and tribulations over the years. I am a licensed cosmetologist, a graduate of a Le Cordon Bleu culinary institute, and am on my way to becoming a registered veterinary technician. Knowledge is my passion and my curse, because learning as much as I can about every subject I encounter consumes me. I have lived in the suburbs, in downtown Chicago, and now I live on a farm. Every single experience I have ever had has molded me into the woman I am today, and my experiences will continue to mold me into the woman I will become in the future.

            In high school, I attended cosmetology school part-time, attending half days during my junior and senior years, to prepare to take my state board examination immediately after graduation. I had graduated at the top of my cosmetology class, passed the state board examination with ease, and was offered a position in a salon almost instantly. I worked in a few salons over the next two years, and decided to retire from the industry at the ripe age of 20 years old. I had moved out of my parent’s house and into a house with my then-current boyfriend, and five of our friends. The house gained a reputation for being a party house, and although I was only 20 years old, I enthusiastically partied as if it was going out of style.

            Nightly partying soon came to bore me, and I grew tired of living in the dramatic, unchanging atmosphere of the party house. The relationship with my boyfriend had soured over the desire to change my lifestyle, and I soon moved back into the comfort of my parent’s home. Without any serious financial responsibilities, I had the luxury of jumping around from job to job, and continued to drink and party on the weekends. At the age of 21 years old, I was working three jobs, and with very few bills to pay, my savings account was climbing quickly. As one would expect, working three jobs quickly grew tiresome, and I desired a change of scenery to refresh my senses. I decided that I wanted to visit Toronto, and immediately made travel arrangements. Toronto was the fresh breath of air that I needed to rejuvenate my passion for learning, and it helped to pave the way to the next chapter in my life.

            I came back from Toronto with a vigorous inspiration, and the experience urged me to move to Chicago to attend culinary school. Less than a week after my 23^rd birthday, I was in my Chicago apartment, unpacking boxes, and preparing for my first day at The Cooking and Hospitality Institute of Chicago.  Chicago was new, fun, and exciting, and the first six months I spent there were intoxicating. Time seemed to whiz by as I took in the sights, sounds, and atmosphere of the bustling city, all while soaking up the knowledge for a culinary degree. Upon completing culinary school, I acquired a job in a cupcake bakery in the heart of The Loop, where I worked for over a year. During that time, I had stumbled upon a television show on the local PBS station, called Going Green, and one of the episodes featured a couple who had started a small, self-sustaining, suburban farm outside of San Antonio. Seeing this segment was a momentous event, which sparked an entire revolution in my head, and I could not get the idea of having my own farm out of my mind; it consumed my dreams, as well as my every waking thought. I decided that owning my own self-sustaining farm was the next venture in my life, and I immediately began researching properties, livestock, and agriculture. Within a week, I had enrolled myself at Harold Washington College, a community college in the heart of downtown, with the intention of studying horticulture, since there were no agricultural degrees offered in the area.

            I had a friend from middle school with whom I had lost contact with over the years, and been reunited with over Facebook, that lived on a farm in my hometown, so I contacted him to chat about the farm lifestyle. We talked for almost an hour, and during the conversation he had invited me to come and visit the farm the next time I came home to visit my parents. The experience I had on Travis’s farm was almost surreal: I had become used to the concrete jungle, in which every figment of nature was carefully constructed and plotted by man, and then there I was, amidst 90 acres of Mother Nature’s greenery. I returned to Chicago with a new view of the world, and a new view of where I wanted to be in that world, which was far from the city. Travis and I talked on the phone every night for months, as I required daily farm reports for updates on the chickens and the growth progress of the vegetable garden. I found myself falling in love with him, and I was spending every possible moment back in my hometown, to be with him on the farm. He also started visiting Chicago frequently, and it got to a point where we were scheduling every one of our free moments to be together. My first visit to the farm had been in May, Travis and I had started dating in June, and when the summer semester at Harold Washington College had ceased at the end of July, I was packing up my boxes to start my life on the farm.

            I have lived on the farm for over a year now, and am currently raising a flock of 35 chickens, tending a 900 square foot vegetable garden, as well as working part-time and attending school full-time. Farm life is a lot of hard work, although the abundance of rewards is worth more to me than I can describe with words. In Chicago, the only space I occupied that I could call my own was my bedroom, and now I have a 90-acre playground outside my back door. My experiences in Chicago changed my perception of the way I see the world, and every day on the farm affords me a new perspective on the life I want to live. I look forward to the experiences that await me, and the changes that they will inspire in me, and the woman that they will shape me into becoming.

A Simple Start

My mom has encouraged me to write a blog for quite some time now, and I've recently been motivated by my literature professor at school, so here we are. A lot of my apprehension towards starting this blog is feeling overwhelmed with the choices of things to share, so this will be a simple start.

I had Saturday off this weekend, so Travis and I spent some time up at the lake. We had intended to fish, but there were mechanical problems with the boat, and a  major storm rolled through Saturday which prevented us from doing so. It's nice having time set aside to cast away all worries and stress related with "real life", and just enjoy the view. The hummingbirds there always inspire me.

I'm about 90% decided on going to see my doctor about some anti-anxiety medicine. Speaking of anxiety, I have a dental appointment on Tuesday morning. I can feel my blood pressure rising just thinking about it.

The weather today was amazing. I spent the day building an outdoor enclosure for my bantam breed chickens. I opened the door for them to explore it, but they're apparently apprehensive. Maybe tomorrow.  Travis traded the '78 Ford for a dirt bike. I'm determined to learn how to drive it.

Chobani greek yogurt $10/10 at Meijer.. a dairy dream come true!

I have plans tomorrow to make corn chowder when I get home from class. I've not made it since culinary school, and am looking forward to revisiting the past through its flavors.

Travis is talking about buying his uncle's house. The thought is overwhelming to me.

I love spending time at the lake but I'm looking forward to sleeping in my own bed tonight. I can hear it calling my name as I type.

I hope to wake up to fully ripened cherry tomatoes in the garden tomorrow. Fingers crossed.