Tag: animal

The Spiders Rise pt. 1

indigoshell

Sunday
11pm (on Saturday) and I’m piling wet clothes into the drying machine. A few socks fall to the ground and I feel an ominous tingle touch my spine while reaching for them. In the gap between two machines is one of the largest spiders I’ve ever seen in my life, about an inch long with legs. Now, I’m not afraid of spiders, but I could’ve sworn that this one was looking right at me.

Photo cred – Spiders.us

That night (or morning), all was well until 3am. Alarms blared and the whole dorm seemed to shake as 40 girls fell out of bed. The fire alarm had been triggered, and the standard protocol was to all file outside into our circular driveway.

I was in such a rush that I forgot my shoes and glasses, which normally wouldn’t be a problem. It was dark out and the little moonlight we had were shadowed by the bodies of stumbling girls. Twice I nearly fell down the stairs.

The real kicker? There was no fire. And we all knew it.

Monday
While making tea that morning, a (rather normal sized) spider scuttled across my feet and made its way out the door. Spiders are very normal occurrences around the girl’s dorm, but most of them actively avoid humans. So this was a very, very odd thing to experience early in the morning.

Everybody went to bed that night as usual, not suspecting a repeat of the night before.

5am came around and the same shrill sirens went off, startling the dorm and ejecting the girls into the cold. I remembered my shoes this time, but it was still cold, dark, and disorienting. 5am was an odd time for us to wake up, as most girls wake at 6:30 anyways. I considered staying up, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open long enough to decide.

I knew that this was just the beginning.

ASITs, Attention! ASITs, Begin! Junior Missing, Junior Missing!

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The buddy system – it’s a common thing among younger children, for safety, you know, for safety. With 240 acres of land and forest and potentially dangerous animals at every corner, campers must walk in groups of two or more at all times. Even Seniors and ASITs have to do it. Counselors are the only ones that don’t need to follow the buddy system, though I think they’re the ones that have the most potential to get injured.

The buddy system is fairly complicated. The ground rule is that you must have a same-gender buddy at all times. You know, so nothing happens. Last year, my female friend and I would have a male friend with us, and that was allowed. This year though, it wasn’t allowed, so the only way we could hang out with our guy friend was if he had another male buddy. It wasn’t a huge deal, really. The only complaints we had were “freedom” complaints, but most of us were too tired to really care.

When Juniors have their Free Time, us ASITs have to sit in an area and make sure that they have their buddies, water bottles, and name tags. We also have to make sure that all the animals aren’t too perturbed (a favorite word of one of my counselors) to be handled, nobody leaves their buddies to go to a different Animal Area, they take with them everything that they brought into the room, and above all that, we have to make sure that everyone’s handling their animal correctly.

My (specialty) favourite room is the Reptile Room, and let me tell you, having 10 juniors with 10 different snakes and lizards out can be a little stressful. Not only do we have to make sure that snakes and lizards are on opposite sides of the room, our Kingsnakes have to be five feet away from any other snakes, we have to make sure none of them touches the ground, snakes aren’t allowed around necks or shoulders, and we have to watch each animal for irritation.

For different Animal Areas, different rules apply, and different amounts of stress follows each area. But the same idea remains: keep the animals safe, keep the Juniors safe, and hope that the Seniors are smart and listen to their Counselors – because Counselors are the ones that work during Senior Free Time.

ASITs, attention! ASITs, begin! Work more, work more!

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Sometimes, our classes and courses get cancelled. Sometimes, we have 28 ASITs and not enough relevant classes to stick them into. The ASITs without a job, or wanting to do something different, can do Chores.

Chores are basically what they sound like; they’re chores. Some Chores are easy, like refilling Turtle Pond (the size of a very large kiddie-pool), or difficult, like deep-cleaning an enclosure (taking out all the shavings, scrubbing down the walls, then bringing in 2-4 more bags of heavy shavings and emptying them).

Some ASITs (me) request to do Chores because they don’t have to deal with numerous amounts of people. Some people are just put into chores simply because there really isn’t anything else to do.

Chores were then renamed “Projects” because, for some reason, the word “chore” seemed to have some sort of negative sound to it. None of us agreed, but of course it’s not any of us changed it anyways.

The three Golden Rules of being an ASIT are:

1. Always ask for more work
2. Always be enthusiastic
3. Always follow the rules

ASITs are always working, so if you ever take a rest, you better be sure to either hop back to work in a minute or two, or that everything is done. Then, when you’re finished – you’re not really finished until you ask someone for more work and they say that everything is done.

Ever tried to be helpful and enthusiastic for every second you’re with campers? Neither have I, because it’s utterly exhausting. Unless you’re naturally an extrovert, there’s no way to always be enthusiastic. I wasn’t known for my enthusiasm. In fact, I was known for how stoic I was, but nobody gave me grief about it because it was my “thing.” Believe it or not, we can be punished for not being enthusiastic enough. One or two bummers could ruin the whole ASIT crew’s night.

Take a Look at Me, an ASIT You Will See

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You don’t just pay to be an ASIT, you have to work to be an ASIT. You have to work to work. (Many of us ASIT’s have talked about the logic, but nobody has bothered to rebel yet.)

To be an ASIT, you have to have been a camper for at least one year beforehand. Not many ASIT’s are second years, so a few veteran ASIT’s were surprised that I was an ASIT on my second year.

I didn’t look like an ASIT. ASIT’s are like the equivalent to a high school senior, and as I am 5’2 and quite petite, many people assumed I was anywhere between 12 to 15 years old. I’m 17.

ASIT’s don’t only take care of a camel and emus — we get assigned to Junior Cabins (aged 7-11) and help with classes and courses throughout the day (equivalent to a TA in school). So not only did I get incredible hands-on experience with animals of all shapes and sizes, I was also (almost unwillingly) working with children (aged 7-17 but they’re all children to me) for hours and hours of the day.

Although we had ASIT training, new ASIT’s really have no idea what to do, and as most stay for only two weeks, they leave with a feeling of hesitant accomplishment. I (and just a few others) stayed for a solid 6 weeks, from the beginning of the two-week sessions to the end of camp.

I knew I was walking differently and I was talking differently. The way I looked at the (ordinary) campers was different than the way I’d look at a fellow ASIT or a Counselor. Six weeks was just not enough time to be an ASIT.

Jack the Cat

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I just finished my favorite story this year, which was about a cool little thing – oh no, the coolest little animal – Jack the Cat.

Before I did this story, Jack was just a friendly cat to me. Whenever I see him, he just meows to me as if he is telling me he is happy.

This time, I got chance to really get a closer look to this small thing. Finally it came to my conclusion that Jack IS the coolest cat ever!

Jack is a cool student.
As soon as school starts, Jack will come out and choose his class. He enters the classroom, lies on the ground and pays full attention. However, he is really hardworking because according to our math teacher Mr.Queen, Jack does not turn in his homework on time and he never takes any tests.

Jack also frequently comes to the library. He will get up on the tables, he will use somebody’s computer and he will sniff books. Does he really read or understand the contents? Who knows.

Jack is a cooler friend.
He shares his happiness with people by meowing to them. He is confident and even more comfortable of being a member of the community. He walks to people and request their attentions. Then he looks at you and you can feel his feelings pretty much. He is always there to cheer people up and inspire the community.

Jack is the coolest cat.
He wears his shiny golden fur and patrols around the campus.
Jack has embraced nearly all the qualities not only as an animal, but moreover, he builds up the special bond with humans and becomes an essential member of the school.


Jack is like a student at the school and he makes our community feel like home.
I’ll miss this special “classmate” a lot after I leave the school.

Nightmare

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It’s a horse. Can you guess what colors plague their minds the most? It’s black. The dark color that overpowers all, that can swallow up anything lighter that dares to power through.

This horse is all black, smoking, shimmering, not hidden like Conscience but not sharp like Shadow. Her socks are grey, her hooves pulse, she plods along, following me, aiding me. Her name is Nightmare but she is Hope. She is Beauty. She is Power.

She, in her huge Gypsy form, is difficult to see. Hope shows up the least and they can see no Beauty in this world. This world is destroyed. Corrupted. Shattered. Gods know what plans the world has for lowly humans.

Nightmare lives on. She, in her huge Gypsy form, fights Shadow and Conscience and will never let Hope and Beauty die. Her Power is immense, never weakening, but one day she will die.

She feeds on Hope and Beauty, and they are on their way to extinction. The good powers of this world, the bright sunlight, the clear winds, are being swallowed by the seething black haze that eats all.

Nightmare has left me and begins to die.

Shadow

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It’s a snake. She’s black too, but the kind of black the night sky is. She’s dark. She’s vivid. She’s powerful.

She’s real. She can never leave you, and sometimes, you want her to leave you. She can be your strength, and she can be your weakness.

She speaks your mind when you lose it, she’s there when your sibling’s a bother, she’s there when you don’t understand something.

She fights. She will fight hard, and when you think she’s done fighting, she will fight even more.

Her enemy is Conscience. Conscience makes her mad, and Conscience makes her strong. She fights Conscience with all she has.

The longer she fights, the less control she possesses. She looses herself in an effort to protect, she grows stronger and out of control.

Fangs, venom, whipping tail, flared hood, she fights Conscience and eventually she fights you. Your body turns from heavy to angry.

She is Anger. Anger must be held back. She must be held back. Nothing can hold back Anger.

She rises, hissing, spitting, glowing, menacing, fighting Conscience and fighting you. She’ll fight you and everyone and everything around you.

DESTROY

Her Anger will infect you.

ATTACK

You will be a danger to be around.

KILL

You can’t fight fire with fire. You must drown it with water.

Imagine never finding water.

Conscience

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It’s a butterfly. It’s black, all black, with misty, soft, glowy, fuzzy edges, like the edges of a shadow.

You can’t really hear it, it’s there. You begin to let your guard down, it’s there. You let your mind wander, it’s there.

It speaks to you. Stop trying, it says, you don’t need to be with others. Just go, it says, just go alone, sit alone, eat alone.

So you go alone. You sit alone, You eat alone. Then you leave alone.

It flies next to you. You don’t need to look up, it’s just there. It grows. It always grows. It lands on your shoulder, your head, your chest. It’s heavy, too heavy. Don’t fall, you tell yourself, don’t fall. Just fall, it replies, just fall.

It’s a heavy load, it is. In class it keeps your head down. In walking it keeps your shoulders hunched. In sleep it keeps your body curled.

The others, they try to keep it away. They fight, claws, fangs, hooves, venom, they fight hard. It keeps coming back. It keeps speaking.

You’re not good at this, it says, you’re not good at that. You’re good at being bad, it says, that’s a better way to think about it.

It still grows, it’s still there. It covers you with it’s wings, it pushes you down. You can get back up but it pushes you down harder. Stay down, just stay down, it says, stay down, stay low, then you can’t get any lower.

You can still get lower, but man, it doesn’t know that.

Death by Bucking Horse

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There was this one horse. His name was Houdini, and he was solid, pure black. I had always wanted to ride Houdini but I was always told that my skill levels weren’t high enough, or that he was too “green.” When I got to riding Layla and a pony called Dixie my mind wandered away from Houdini.

When sophomore year came around, I had first seen Houdini during my freshman year, I saw much less of Houdini, but occasionally I would still see him around. I wasn’t sure where he went at all, but I slightly remember someone telling me that he was either out in pasture or being trained by someone else.

This year, my junior year, he’s back, and I continued to ask to ride him. For two months I got continuous no’s but with promises of “wait until we ride him for a week,” or, “once you’re able to keep your back straight.” I kinda gave up hope by the second month, really.

Winter sports started, and the current horse I was riding was needed by another rider. I remember walking into the barn and then being jumped upon by an instructor. “I have exciting news for you!” she said. For some reason I had literally no idea what she would have said. “We’re gonna put you on Houdini!”

Internally I was jumping up and down like a little girl who had finally gotten a pony for her birthday, but on the outside I just took a couple breaths and said “wwwwwoooooooowwww oh thank gods yes finally…”

Houdini was still extremely green and didn’t seem to understand how large he was. He would swing his head around and try to cuddle (I think) me but would end up knocking me into a wall or the gate. I learned how to move quickly and duck away within the first few days.

We believe that Houdini is part Friesian – Royal Friesian Horse, that is. They look like cousins of Gypsy Horses, and they’re a stunning breed. The way they walk, trot, and gallop is extremely upright and almost stiff, like every step they take is deliberate. In my mind I called them the “soldier horse” because they were so methodical with their steps.

Houdini could hardly walk in a straight line. Seriously, I’d try to keep him on the rail and he’d end up either running into it or turning away from it. He actually ran me into a jump pole once, but he’s learning, I think.

A skill that all riders must know is how to lunge a horse. The gist of it is basically to chase a horse around a little round pen while giving them instructions such as “trot” or “canter.” Houdini would trot and canter for a few circles, buck in my direction a few times, then stop completely and simply stare at me.

What I didn’t understand was what he didn’t understand. He followed my instructions perfectly, to walk, to trot, to canter, yet he would always stop a few minutes in and stand square in front of me, unmoving. Even when I tapped him with our bright, neon-orange whip he would stare at me like “what are you doing I did not sign up for this.”

Oh, and he bucks. Like, a lot. If I keep the reins a little too long at the trot he lowers his head and starts bucking. Or that’s the official term, what Houdini does is more like pronking. Usually done by antelopes, pronking is when they leap up into the air with an arched back and stiff legs.

Yeah, that’s what Houdini does. In an hour he pronks about 4 times and I have yet to fall off. There was one pronk, this one was more like a rodeo buck, where I crash-landed on the saddle and hit my knee on something hard. That was two days ago and I still have a massive yellow bruise.


(Mien gott look at that mane)

I call Houdini my Butternut Squash.

Squash because he likes to squash me against the walls of the stall.

Butter because his coat gleams like melted butter.

And nut because he’s the nuttiest horse I may ever ride.

My Princess

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The first horse I rode in OVS was Urbino. He was an old horse, mainly brown, and very tall. I constantly struggled to put his bit on, as he would always lift his head up above the reach of my arms. I’m 5’2 now. I was probably 5’1 or 5’0 two years ago, so I asked to switch horses that would either work with me better or was a tad shorter.

I switched horses maybe one or two more times before settling for Layla. I believe she was at least part Gypsy, tall, sturdy, and one of the most beautiful creatures I had ever seen. Her coat and mane was black and white while her tail was pure black. She was a massive horse, and had not been ridden a lot, so she was quite stubborn and didn’t quite like having the bit put in.

To my great dismay she would also lift her head up above arms reach, and for a while I got my taller friends to help me bit her. Being that short and weak was unbelievably frustrating.

Layla was a complete Princess, for she knew how tall and beautiful she was. The way she walked, the way she swayed when she lifted her feet up, made it seem like she was dancing down a catwalk.

Slowly she began to respect me, and after a while she seemed to understand that I was short and that I needed a little help when brushing her mane and putting her bit on. On the days where she felt good she would lower her head for me and on the days she seemed more stubborn she’d ignore me and let me struggle on my tiptoes.

She was pretty darn lazy, plodding along with her feet picked up high. A whip helped, but I had to teach her that she had to walk at a relatively quick pace and not hang her head. She learned quickly and was probably my smoothest ride ever.

I rode Layla for about a year and then moved on to different horses, but I visit her every day to brush out her mane and maybe give her a mint or a handful of grains. When I leave the barn I always look back, and she’ll always watch me leave with an inquisitive look on her face.

I always wonder what horses do all day, but maybe horses wonder what humans do all day too.