By Titus Appleyard

It was 5:00 am, and my alarm was beeping beside me. I reached over to hit the button to turn it off as I slowly arose from bed. My brother, Sebastian, was just waking up in the bed across from me, and I could tell that he was just as tired as I was. We had been looking forward to this day for a long time. This was only our second time travelling without our parents and we were very excited. We were thirteen years old at the time and had never visited our Aunt Eliza at her ranch in British Columbia. It was a tradition that many of our cousins had done before, to go and see her farm, and to work with the animals there for a few days. When my sister and cousin went, they made a book recounting all of their adventures when they returned home, so I had a vague idea of what it would be like.

I got up and downed a quick breakfast before getting in the car. We drove to the airport where we said goodbye to our mother, and met up with our aunt Eliza, who had been visiting some relatives in Toronto, and boarded a plane with her bound for Vancouver. At Vancouver Airport, we took a bus to the small, domestic flight terminal and flew to Williams Lake. While aboard the plane, we saw extraordinary views of the Rockies below us. I remember the feeling of awe as we flew over them in our small plane, wearing earplugs to help block out the noise of the engine. When we landed at Williams Lake, we picked up our aunt’s truck, stocked up on groceries and animal feed, and set out to her ranch, Tatlayoko Fold. Through the drive, we were surrounded by the amazing sights of valleys carved by ancient glaciers, and the small mounded foothills of the Rockies sometimes referred to as the “Potato Mountains.” When at last we arrived after three hours of driving, I woke up from my slumber in the back of our aunt’s truck to the sound of gravel crunching under the tires. The door of the house swung open, and we were greeted by our uncle, Dave, standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the light of the fire. We went in, had a quick dinner, and settled in for a well-deserved sleep.

The next morning we awoke early, had a delicious breakfast of eggs fresh from our aunt’s chickens, and headed off to work. The first chore we tackled was feeding and changing the water of the poults who were still just a few weeks old. The next thing on the list was to let out her dogs: Dag, Hector, Hall, and Hoodoo. Dag was the Sheepdog, and the others were all Labs. Dag was trained to keep our aunt safe from bears when she went out on walks, and the other dogs were farm dogs. Afterwards, we fed the chickens and searched their coops for fresh eggs. One of the types of chickens that our aunt kept was the Bantam, a breed of very small chickens bred for fighting. While I was walking out of the pen, one rooster ran at me and started attacking and scratching my leg with the talon on the end of his foot. Thankfully I made it out alive, with nothing more than a couple of scratches and a tarnished sense of pride.

The next chore on the list was to feed the young calves. The Long Horn cows that our aunt kept were a beautiful breed known for their unusual extended bony protrusions. Most of them were still nursing from their mothers, but there was one calf and one lamb who had been unlucky enough to have had their mothers die. One of these lambs was called Teacup, and the calf, Gingernut, was named by us because of the light auburn tint of its coat. Gingernut had difficulty seeing out of one of his eyes and was born with a misshapen jaw which is sometimes a symptom of mental disability in calves. The first thing we did was to go inside and warm up some powdered milk for them to have in a bottle. Then we had to bottle feed them the milk. I will never forget the feeling of feeding a calf and a lamb from a bottle. Gingernut and Teacup, in no way related, were inseparable friends and did everything together, but when it came down to food, it was every calf and lamb for themselves.

After that, it was time to release the geese. Our Aunt kept a breed of geese called Sebastopol. These geese did not have barbs in their feathers so they hung loosely off them, instead of sticking out from their bodies like other geese. After letting out the geese, I walked through the field to the pen of Prince of Peace. Although he was a very big and strong ram,  he was extremely friendly and gentle, hence his name. You could feed him hay through the bars of his pen and scratch him between the horns, and he really liked that. I have always enjoyed being around animals, but the time that I spent on the ranch only served to solidify this love. After this experience with Prince of Peace, I was convinced that being a veterinarian was the job for me.

The next day one of the tasks was to separate the growing lambs from their mothers, but first, we had to give the lambs a shot containing all of their necessary vaccines to keep them healthy. It took two of us to pin one lamb down so that they would not hit you in the head in their struggle to break free. Holding a kicking lamb is a feeling that I will never forget; to this day, I can still feel their soft wool running through my fingers, as they wriggled around in my arms.

For the first few days, when the mothers were let out of their pen, they would immediately run over to see their lamb, but after about a week, this would stop and the poor lambs would bleat in vain when they saw their mothers walk by. After about two weeks, the lambs would become accustomed to their new life, and eventually forget about their mothers, much like their mothers had forgotten them. It was sad to think of how quickly they forgot their mothers.

On one of my last days in BC, we were able to do something that I had been wanting to do for a while. In the morning when it was time to feed the lambs I got a bucket full of feed, climbed into their pen and sat down in between all of them. At first, they were a little wary, but then they were all climbing over me looking for food. This was a memory that I will never forget. Visiting my aunt was a dream that I had had since I first discovered she had a ranch.

 After working on a farm for just a week, I gained a far greater appreciation for the work that farmers do and how difficult it is to make a living in that work. As a city boy, I loved the outdoor life that allowed me to interact with nature and experience the joys of getting to know so many different animals.