Cast of Characters

The Cosmic Ranch

It has been some time since I've caught you up on the characters with whom I reside. Bent Barrow Farm is far behind us—Casa de Bartholomule-Teaspoon a distant memory—even the Ark vacated. No, now we make our home (our forever home, so long as we should be lucky to live!) at the Cosmic Ranch, five acres on the eastern side of the southern end of Whidbey Island, Washington, USA. 

These are the people with whom I share my home, roughly in order of smallness:

Poppy.
Poppy is the smallest of the big people. The people are roughly divided along the lines of whether they are housedwellers or barndwellers, so I suppose if she were to be taken into the human house, she would become the biggest of the small people. You can also call her Pop Tart, Pop Star, Popcorn, Pop Pop, Popperoni, Poppet, or Her Majesty. Poppy is the queen of the realm. A 20 year old miniature horse with more attitude than teeth, Poppy enrages the rest of us outdoor animals by getting extra breakfast and being assertive enough to defend it.

Poppy on her first ride home

Clover.
Clover is the oldest of the small people, measured in percentage of average lifespan already used. She's pushing 110%, 115%. She has one eye (it doesn't work) and is at this time made up more of lumps than dog, but still loves her breakfast and dinner. She loves her humans, likes her dogs, and tolerates her cats except when they are slapping her for trying to eat their kibble. A chihuahua, Clover is the last remaining family member besides Farmwife who actually lived at Bent Barrow Farm.* Clover will be 17 in December.

Clover, grayer and blinder but still just as marvelous

Tiger.
Tiger is deceptively stripeless, for an animal named after the famously camouflaged big cat. He is the cuddliest, kindest, and gentlest cat one could hope for, according to human reports. That makes him a donkey among housepets, since it is widely known that donkeys are the cuddly, kind, and gentle members of the equine family. Tiger is the one who can be trusted to sit in the laps of visiting children, much to their delight. Tiger doesn't need his stall cleaned because, like a gentleman, he relieves himself inside an elaborate robot litter box. Tiger is all dignity and elegance. He's 12, and a siamese cross. 

Tiger, the most elegant of the house people.

Roger.
Roger is the least cuddly, most skeptical of our family. You might call him the zebra of the equine family—barely domesticable and not content to be a pet. He was several times rejected, written off as unadoptable, and sprung from a shelter out of mercy. He has been here a number of years and although he's supposedly on hospice care due to some very significant health issues he still wakes up every morning ready for another day of glowering and stewing. Roger would rather pee on the laundryroom floor than inside an athropomorphic robot that looks like EVE from WALL-E. He's not a bad guy, when you get to know him, and for my part I hope he lives forever.

Roger in a sunbeam

Blue.
Blue is from El Paso, Texas where he earned a reputation as a troublemaker for jumping out of the back yard and going on walks with strangers. Now, to his great delight, he lives in a yard where his human works from home and where strangers come and go every day. He picked Farmwife as his favorite person when he was only one, and now at age eight he has picked her husband as his new favorite. Blue is, not surprisingly, a Texas heeler. That's designer dog speak for half Australian Cattle Dog, half Australian Shepherd. It's ok that he loves the husband best . . . Farmwife can be my favorite if she wants. 

A cameo with me, Songbird

Moon.
Moon was running in the road with her dad and three of her eight littermates when Farmwife scooped them up. They were 10 weeks old. When Farmwife tried to return them, the man said, "oh, no. You keep that one, as a finder's fee. I think she's brain damaged." Moon is not brain damaged. She's quite brilliant, and rather mulish for a dog. She is a one year old Labrador retriever. She is the kind of dog that makes having a dog look fun, and if I were in charge of running the Cosmic Ranch I'd go back and ask if those seven brothers and sisters could come here too.

Who could say no to that face?

Farmwife.
The OG. Farmwife was the one who fell in love with Fenway Bartholomule almost 20 years ago, getting this whole Brays Of Our Lives thing started. Her life has changed so much since you first met her—her three children have grown, she's gotten three more adult children through marriage, she's gotten divorced, fallen head over heels in love, and gotten married again, she's gone through several homes and several jobs, she's gone to law school, she's written a novel, and of course she's gone questing to find me, Songbird Sparrowgrass. You can learn more about her writing at www.marniejackson.com and her day job at www.whidbeyenvironment.org. 

The husband.
I didn't like men until I met this man. He is truly the best of them. He is wise, kind, helpful, and fabulously mulish in his disposition. Not much scares him and nothing stops him from doing helpful and sensible things. When Farmwife said, "baby, there's someone giving away a miniature horse on Facebook—would you like a miniature horse?" the husband said, "what's the downside?" Now we have a miniature horse. When Farmwife said, "baby, I found this puppy in the road, can we keep her?" the husband said, "of course! She's perfect!" Now we have a puppy. You can learn more about his art at www.heavylightworks.com and about his day job at www.heavymetalworks.com. 

Melvin. 
Melvin came here to be my companion and he has turned out to be the little prince, everyone's favorite, the belle of the ball, the star of the show. I don't mind—he's my favorite too. Melvin gets bored hanging around the farm and is happiest on expeditions—hiking to the beach, walking in parades, meeting the neighbors, sowing joy like wildflowers. He is saving up for a horse trailer so that he can more easily spread joy within and beyond Island County and he has obtained a business license so that he can officially spread joy under the trade name Brays Of Our Lives. If you live in the Puget Sound region need a short, dark, and handsome assistant to bring your guests a pannier full of ice-cold Capri Suns, talk to Melvin before your next event. He could probably help.  Melvin is 11, and has been at the Cosmic Ranch for just one year.

And me, Songbird Sparrowgrass. 
I grew up in an Amish household where I was taught to pull wagons, carry men, surmount obstacles, and tolerate all sorts of shenanigans. Six years ago, I was sold by a dealer in Kentucky to a man in Rochester, Washington who put me in a 20 acre field to founder. Then, five years ago, I was purchased by Farmwife to take her on muleback riding adventures. Silly Farmwife did not commission a veterinary exam or x-rays of my (very deformed) hooves, and therefore overpaid considerably. I have become more comfortable in my body over time, and we still dream of the day that we might adventure together with Farmwife astride. In the meantime, all those thousands of dollars that she could have spent on a riding mule have been very well spent helping me with massage, dentistry, diagnostic imaging, medication, nutritional support, and therapeutic trimming. I am worth every penny. 

*Note: the human children, who also lived at Bent Barrow Farm, are alive and well. They reside in other places now that they are full fledged grown up people. There are six of the human children now that Farmwife has married into a blended family, and even a baby one foaled last year.