Little Farm

I visited a place called Little Farm at Tilden Nature Reserve, up in the hills of Berkeley, California. It’s a working farm with all kinds of animals—sheep, goats, geese, chickens, rabbits, turkeys, cows, and more. I noticed I was the only adult there who wasn’t attending as a child’s accompaniment. But then I reminded myself I was chaperoning my inner child, and I continued on my merry way to meet the animals.

Everywhere I looked, children were stuffing the animals’ faces with little pieces of lettuce they had purchased at the entrance. I decided right away that, rather than feeding them, I would spend time with the animals, pet them, and sketch them. Given the time it takes to sketch, I was only able to be with the goats and sheep before several hours had passed, and I needed to go home. It was a good tradeoff—I got to spend quality time being present with the animals, rather than checking them off as if the farm were a list. I plan on going back soon. Hopefully this post will have a part two.

I hope you enjoy the tales of these fine creatures, and my drawings that accompany them! The pencil sketches were done while at the farm, as I struggled to capture their constantly moving figures. The watercolors I did later at home, for the special characters that spoke to me.

Goats

Billy goats have a reputation of being stubborn or thorny, but they were the sweetest animals I saw. I was touched by their gentleness. My favorite was this little fellow:

I named him Charlie. I hope, when I return, he remembers me. See you soon, bud.

Charlie kept coming up to me for pets, sometimes pushing away others to secure his spot in the petting order. I did manage to pet the others, but no matter how many times I came and went, this one would always come up to me. He would lean his head against the fence, remaining utterly still as I gently stroked the back of his neck. Sufficed to say, he stole my heart.

I also enjoyed watching the goats eat out of the hands of little children. Sometimes, the goats stick their heads out through the fences to ease the feeding process. It frightens children, but in the case of any hesitation, the goats quickly yank the lettuce right out of a child’s tiny hands.

Goats do not waste time when it comes to food. They might be chewing food, peeing in place, and grasping for more food all at the same time. Remarkable.

Sheep

I didn’t get as close to the sheep. They had a much bigger area to wander in, and generally stayed in the center of it, far away from the people.

I don’t blame them. Many children would come and throw food at them, at which point their parents would drag them away. I found myself taking on a protective role at the fence, glaring at people as they came, telling them with my eyes (and sometimes my words), “Don’t you dare throw that. Don’t. You. Dare!”

A black sheep that mostly kept to itself caught my interest. There was this broken part of the fence with the pole leaning inward, and this sheep would not leave its side. It kept pushing up against the fence with all its might.

(I know this sketch makes it look like the sheep is being attacked by the fence, but I assure you it was the opposite.)

One man commented that the sheep was scratching itself. I disagree. I believe the sheep was trying to mend the fence. It was their personal mission to repair it. And I suspect the sheep was frustrated by the utter lack of effort on the part of the rest of the herd.

If upon my return, that fence is fixed, I will assume it was the black sheep’s handiwork. For its efforts, I named the sheep Boxer, after the hard-working cart-horse from Orwell’s Animal Farm.

The other sheep mostly spent their time lying around. Now you’d think that would be boring to watch, but actually… well, yes, it is. But there was one peculiar thing that caught my attention:

Sheep have a very specific way of laying down. It’s a multi-step see-saw motion with three phases. First, they tentatively lean their front half forward, bending their front legs onto the ground. Then, the rear is lowered. Finally, the head makes its way down until they resemble a cat’s loaf.

Also, before even attempting a kneel, the sheep scratch the ground in front of them for quite a while before committing to a spot. Sometimes they spend fifteen minutes poking and prodding at different spots until they are satisfied, likely to avoid past embarrassing mistakes, when they may have slipped and hurt their pride. The sheep are proud of their sitting process, it seems.

Rams

Next to the sheep’s area, there were two rams held in their own enclosure. Two brothers. The lighter one kept jumping on his brother pushing and fighting trying to get him to play, but the other brother refused.

I have decided to name this pair the Rambros.

They were both hesitant to approach. I think they were confused as to why I was there, since I was not trying to feed them. I looked at them and sat still for a while, sketching them. They still did not trust me. They wanted to pass to the other side of their enclosure, but would not go unless I moved away. I stepped back and watched them trot across. Perhaps if I come back to visit enough times, eventually they will pass even in my presence.

Just before I left, I saw a ram sitting in its own separate pen. I went up to him, and boy was he friendly! He let me pet him a lot, his floof was SO SOFT, you wouldn’t believe it. It felt software than any wool I have ever touched. Perhaps it was his warmth, or his life, running through the strands. My hand seemed to melt into him.

On my way out, I spoke to Stanley, the farmer who runs Little Farm. I learned this particular ram has a name: Gordon Ramsay.

Perfect.