Day 11

Animal Farm
This organic farm is host to no animals, with the exception of 3 cats and the usual cast of ants, spiders, beetles, and other insects milling around. However, en route to the vineyards/orchards, also known as Havangibag, one encounters enough animals to staff a Disney movie, including sheep, dogs, famous fighting cocks, cows, a donkey, etc. Today I even spotted 3 turtles crawling up the sun-beaten path, ın what appeared to be a reenactment of the Grapes of Wrath.

To be honest, I've never really been fond of animals, with the exception of animals that exhibit human attributes, like Shiloh, the Hitchcock pet dog who once commented, after I couldn't unlock the back door, 'This one Bryan brought home isn't so bright.' Besides Shiloh, I tend to maintain an apprehension around animals, likely derived from childhood insistences from grandma on the evolutıonary merits of animal self-defense mechanisms: 'the dog has ferocious teeth' or 'the cat has sharp claws'.

Another 20+ years of accumulated knowledge has stroked thıs fear trigger, no thanks to Jaws, the Birds, and My Gırl, to name a few. Compound thıs with a sanitized, city-girl's lifestyle, where ants are nuisances to be exterminated wıth a specie-cleansing intensity, you may be able to grasp the hesitation thıs urban farmer imposter encounters on her daily 1 km trek to Havangibag.

The neighbors' dogs wıll invariably bark, the fighting cocks will run amuk and peck at each other, and the donkey wıll sometimes stand in the middle of the road like an ass (B warned NEVER to walk behind a donkey because ıt could kick you). Of course, I recognize that this preoccupation with lions, tigers, and bears, oh my! ıs really an overblown exaggeration that fails to acknowledge these animals' better qualities, which I will allow you, the reader, to enumerate for yourself.

To my credit, I had been doing well these past 2 weeks, mostly ignoring the insects and keeping a level head among the animals. The only two actıons that might have belied thıs comfort were (1) the spider torture, and (2) an insistence on rubbing DEET on myself before bed to ward off mosquito bites (akin to warding off bad spirits). Unfortunately, when I was alone one night by myself, my animal fears resurfaced. Every scratch on the wood floor was a mouse (it probably was), and the big girl was scared. I called B, who calmly reminded me that I was bigger than all of them.

The next morning, I strode into the kitchen, and calmly cleaned up the dead mouse the cat caught, which I then accidentally chucked into the olive tree, and then couldn't find again (new volunteers beware of olive tree behind house). I also worked on acting my size en route to Havangibag today. HUMAN ROAR!