Speaker 1: Welcome to Bedtime Stories for Everyone, in which nothing much happens,
Speaker 1: you feel good, and then you fall asleep. I'm Catherine Nikolay.
Speaker 1: I read and write all the stories you hear on
Speaker 1: nothing Much happens. Audio Engineering is by Bob Wittersheim. We
Speaker 1: give to a different charity each week, and this week
Speaker 1: we are giving to a Yeah Marina Donkey Rescue, where
Speaker 1: no donkey will ever be turned away. Each will be
Speaker 1: cared for and loved for the remainder of their lives.
Speaker 1: Learn more about them in our show notes. So often
Speaker 1: I hear from listeners who fall asleep within moments of
Speaker 1: starting an episode. Sometimes they wish they could actually hear
Speaker 1: the story. Well, those are some well trained brains, and
Speaker 1: I'm really glad that you're getting the sleep you need.
Speaker 1: But I want to let you know that Bob and
Speaker 1: I made a show just for this, for daytime listening.
Speaker 1: It's called Stories from the Village of Nothing Much, and
Speaker 1: I think of it as easy listening, but for fiction.
Speaker 1: Listen while you're on your commute, out for a walk,
Speaker 1: when you need to be centered and calm and surrounded
Speaker 1: by the ordinary magic that is commonplace in our village.
Speaker 1: It's free. It doesn't put you to sleep, and you
Speaker 1: can find it anywhere you listen. Just search stories from
Speaker 1: the Village of Nothing Much on your podcast app. Learn
Speaker 1: more and subscribe to our premium channels through the links
Speaker 1: in our show notes. Now I have a story to
Speaker 1: tell you. It is a soft place to settle your mind,
Speaker 1: and just by listening to it, it will build a
Speaker 1: reliable response in your system for sleep. I'll tell the
Speaker 1: story twice, and I'll go a little slower the second
Speaker 1: time through. If you wake again in the night, turn
Speaker 1: it back on and you'll drop right back off, usually
Speaker 1: within seconds. And if you're new to this, know that
Speaker 1: this training will improve with use, so be patient and
Speaker 1: give it time to work. Our story tonight is called
Speaker 1: New Friends at weather Vane Farm, and it's a story
Speaker 1: about a busy spring morning at the sanctuary. It's also
Speaker 1: about branches full of singing birds, fresh straw and rubber boots,
Speaker 1: new babies born in the stalls of the barn, and
Speaker 1: helping each other out along the way. Now, turn out
Speaker 1: your light, slip down into your sheets, and get us
Speaker 1: comfortable as you can. Let your muscles relax and your
Speaker 1: whole body drop heavy into the bed. You are about
Speaker 1: to fall asleep, and you will sleep deeply all night.
Speaker 1: Draw breath in through the nose, soft sigh from your
Speaker 1: mouth again, Breathe in and out. Good new friends at
Speaker 1: weather Vane Farm. We were up early today, not just
Speaker 1: because the birds were having an all comers talent show
Speaker 1: and seeing off in the branches, though certainly they were
Speaker 1: and had been at it since well before the sun rose. No,
Speaker 1: we were up early today because there were a lot
Speaker 1: of furry and feathered folks to check on. Our little
Speaker 1: farm sanctuary had been growing over the last few years,
Speaker 1: from the first goats pig had come here to relax
Speaker 1: into their retirement years, to the donkeys, cows, ducks, and geese,
Speaker 1: among others who joined us since we'd met and fallen
Speaker 1: in love with a lot of animals, and in the
Speaker 1: last few days our family had grown even more. We
Speaker 1: set out in our barn clothes and rubber boots I
Speaker 1: couldn't remember when I'd last worn anything else, and trumped
Speaker 1: across the yard. I slid open the big barn door
Speaker 1: to a chorus of calls from our residents, who were
Speaker 1: all ready for breakfast and to get out into the
Speaker 1: sun on this lovely spring day. We usually start garded
Speaker 1: with the stalls closest to the door, went in order
Speaker 1: down one side and back up the other, and our
Speaker 1: animals certainly knew that. But things had changed a few
Speaker 1: days before, and we sure heard about it as we
Speaker 1: went straight back to the farthest pen. We couldn't help it.
Speaker 1: We had baby goats, twins that had been born early
Speaker 1: in the morning three days ago. They were black with
Speaker 1: a few white and brown spots, and we told them
Speaker 1: apart because one, the little girl, had right on top
Speaker 1: of her head, a white spot that looked like a
Speaker 1: smudged thumb print. I liked thinking about her genetic blueprint,
Speaker 1: coding that special part of her while she waited to
Speaker 1: be born. We'd had volunteers watching over her mom nearly
Speaker 1: around the clock in the days before she gave birth,
Speaker 1: and since they had been the ones to go without sleep,
Speaker 1: we'd let them name the twins. The little girl was
Speaker 1: called Geraldine and her brother Topper. I don't know where
Speaker 1: those names had come from, but they seemed to fit
Speaker 1: the kids and our farm in general. We went with
Speaker 1: the flow here, rolled with whatever came, like the weather
Speaker 1: van did up on top of the barn when we
Speaker 1: peeked over the edge of the stall. We found them
Speaker 1: both huddled with their mom having breakfast. Their mom was
Speaker 1: so good and patient with them. I'd been there as
Speaker 1: they were born, and even in her exhaustion, she cleaned
Speaker 1: them and brought them close. They were thriving under her care,
Speaker 1: and I was already a bit nervous about the trouble
Speaker 1: these new kids would get into. Goats are just built different.
Speaker 1: Of all the animals here at weather Vane, the goats
Speaker 1: were the silliest, the cleverest, dare deevils. They climbed on anything,
Speaker 1: jumped off everything, tried to eat whatever fit in their
Speaker 1: mouths and some things that didn't. And they were also
Speaker 1: so sweet and loving. It's just that that comes after
Speaker 1: the chaos. Once we checked in with the goats and
Speaker 1: had filled the troughs with feed, replenished their water, and
Speaker 1: opened the door that led them out into their yard,
Speaker 1: we went back to the front of the barn and
Speaker 1: started our normal mourning chores. Geraldine and Topper weren't the
Speaker 1: only new babies here at the farm, but they were
Speaker 1: the ones with the potential to cause the most trouble,
Speaker 1: so they got first look of the day in the
Speaker 1: stall by the front. We opened the door and ushered
Speaker 1: the ducks and geese out into their yard for breakfast.
Speaker 1: At the end of the waddling line came a couple
Speaker 1: tall fawn and white runner ducks with a tiny row
Speaker 1: of ducklings behind them. They were so adorable I couldn't
Speaker 1: stand it. I wanted to scoop them up and bring
Speaker 1: their downy little bodies close to my face. I resisted.
Speaker 1: Their parents were watching closely as each little duck tottered
Speaker 1: down the ramp at the front of the barn and
Speaker 1: into the grass. They'd spend the morning pecking in the
Speaker 1: yard and then testing out the pond as the ducklets
Speaker 1: learned to swim. We had several types of ducks here,
Speaker 1: but and don't tell anyone this, the runners were my favorite.
Speaker 1: They stand upright like penguins, and they really do run
Speaker 1: a little clumsily, but still they are speedy. We kept
Speaker 1: making our way through the barn, feeding, watering, cleaning, raking
Speaker 1: out straw, and bringing in fresh, sweet smelling bales to
Speaker 1: replace it. Our cows, Winnie the Move and his mom,
Speaker 1: whom we called Frieda, went out to have a good
Speaker 1: scratch on the brushes we'd installed on the fence posts.
Speaker 1: The pigs were happy to see us and wagged their
Speaker 1: tails as we brought their breakfast. That's when the brain
Speaker 1: from our coffl of donkeys got loud. They'd been patient
Speaker 1: waiting their turn for breakfast in playtime, but they'd had
Speaker 1: enough and were he hying loudly. Even before I rounded
Speaker 1: the wall that edged their pen, I had a wide
Speaker 1: smile on my face. Our donkeys, Bumblebee and Turnip, had
Speaker 1: their first fall a month before. His name was George,
Speaker 1: and his soft gray fur reminded me of the duckling's
Speaker 1: fuzzy down. I went straight into their pen, and they
Speaker 1: all crowded around me, begging for pets with their long noses.
Speaker 1: If the goats were the silliest farm residents, the donkeys
Speaker 1: were the most affectionate. If we'd let them, they'd sleep
Speaker 1: in the house with us, curled up trying to share
Speaker 1: beds with the dogs. Baby George, still a bit shy,
Speaker 1: stood back behind Bumblebee, and only after I'd been in
Speaker 1: with them for a few minutes, slowly trotted forward to
Speaker 1: have his own head scratched out. We went into the
Speaker 1: yard and George ran into the sun since he'd figured
Speaker 1: out running. He'd been showing it off, speeding up and
Speaker 1: down the length of the barnyard, braying and kicking up dirt.
Speaker 1: His anti Muriel, a small donkey whose coloring was for
Speaker 1: some reason called roan and broken, meaning brown and white,
Speaker 1: trotted after him. She tended to babysit George when they
Speaker 1: were out in the yard together, and I was glad
Speaker 1: for that. Muriel's eyesight was not very good, and donkeys
Speaker 1: often helped their friends at times like those. I guessed
Speaker 1: in a year or so, when George was a little
Speaker 1: more grown, and when Muriel's sight was a little dimmer,
Speaker 1: he'd be leading her out to the pasture, guiding her
Speaker 1: to the trough and water barrels. I paused with the
Speaker 1: rake in my hands, and stood tall, sting my spine
Speaker 1: and looking out at our animal family, the goats jumping
Speaker 1: on the picnic table, the ducks floating in the pond,
Speaker 1: Frida and Winnie, George and Aunt Muriel. We would have
Speaker 1: a wonderful summer this year. New friends at weather Vane Farm.
Speaker 1: We were up early this morning, not just because the
Speaker 1: birds were having an all comers talent show and sing
Speaker 1: off in the branches, though certainly they were, and they'd
Speaker 1: been at it since well before the sun rose. Now
Speaker 1: we were up early today because there were a lot
Speaker 1: of furried and feathered folks to check on. Our little
Speaker 1: farm sanctuary had been growing over the last few years,
Speaker 1: from the first goats and pig who'd come here to
Speaker 1: relax into their retirement years, to the donkeys, cows, ducks,
Speaker 1: and geese, among others, who joined us since we'd met
Speaker 1: and fallen in love with a lot of animals, and
Speaker 1: in the last few days our family had grown even more.
Speaker 1: We set out in our barn clothes and rubber boots
Speaker 1: I couldn't remember when I'd last worn anything else, and
Speaker 1: tromped across the yard. I slid open the big barn
Speaker 1: door to a chorus of calls from our residents, who
Speaker 1: were all ready for breakfast and to get out into
Speaker 1: the sun on this lovely spring day. We usually started
Speaker 1: with the stalls closest to the door, went in order
Speaker 1: down one side and back up the other, and our
Speaker 1: animals certainly knew that. But things had changed a few
Speaker 1: days before, and we sure heard about it. As we
Speaker 1: went straight back to the farthest pen. We couldn't help it.
Speaker 1: We had baby goats, twins that had been born early
Speaker 1: in the morning three days ago. They were black with
Speaker 1: a few white and brown spots, and we told them
Speaker 1: apart because one, the little girl, had right on top
Speaker 1: of her head, a white spot that looked like a
Speaker 1: smudged thumbprint. I liked thinking about her genetic blueprint, coding
Speaker 1: that special part of her while she waited to be born.
Speaker 1: We'd had volunteers watching over her mom nearly around the
Speaker 1: clock in the days before she gave birth, and since
Speaker 1: they had been the ones to go without sleep, we'd
Speaker 1: let them name the twins. The little girl was called
Speaker 1: Geraldine and her brother Topper. I don't know where those
Speaker 1: names had come from, but they seemed to fit the
Speaker 1: kids and our farm in general. We went with the
Speaker 1: flow here, rolled with whatever came, like the weather vein
Speaker 1: did on top of the barn. When we peeked over
Speaker 1: the edge of the stall, we found them both huddled
Speaker 1: with their mom having breakfast. Their mom was so good
Speaker 1: and patient with them. I'd been there as they were born,
Speaker 1: and even in her exhaustion, she cleaned them and brought
Speaker 1: them close. They were thriving under her care, and I
Speaker 1: was already a bit nervous about the trouble these new
Speaker 1: kids would get into. Goats are just built different. Of
Speaker 1: all the animals here at weather Vane, the goats were
Speaker 1: the silliest, the cleverest, daredevil. They climbed on anything, jumped
Speaker 1: off everything, tried to eat whatever fit in their mouths,
Speaker 1: and some things that didn't. They were also sweet and loving,
Speaker 1: It's just that that comes after the chaos. Once we'd
Speaker 1: checked in with the goats and had filled troughs with feed,
Speaker 1: replenished their water, and opened the door that led them
Speaker 1: out into their yard, we went back to the front
Speaker 1: of the barn and started our normal morning chores. Geraldine
Speaker 1: and Topper weren't the only new babies here at the farm,
Speaker 1: but they were the ones with the potential to cause
Speaker 1: the most trouble, so they got first look of the
Speaker 1: day in the stall by the front. We opened the
Speaker 1: door and ushered the ducks and geese out to their
Speaker 1: yard for breakfast. At the end of the waddling line
Speaker 1: came a couple tall fawn and white runner ducks with
Speaker 1: a tiny row of ducklings behind them. They were so
Speaker 1: adorable I couldn't stand it. I wanted to scoop them
Speaker 1: up and bring their downy little bodies close to my face.
Speaker 1: I resisted there. Parents were watching closely as each little
Speaker 1: duck tottered down the ramp at the front of the
Speaker 1: barn and into the grass. They'd spend the morning pecking
Speaker 1: in the yard and then testing out the pond as
Speaker 1: the ducklets learned to swim. We had several different types
Speaker 1: of ducks here, but and don't tell anyone this, the
Speaker 1: runners were my favorite. They stand upright like penguins, and
Speaker 1: they really do run a little clumsily, but still they
Speaker 1: are speedy. We kept making our way through the barn, feeding, watering, cleaning,
Speaker 1: raking out straw, and bringing in fresh, sweet smelling bales
Speaker 1: to replace it. Our cows, Winnie the Moon and his mom,
Speaker 1: whom we called Frieda, went out to have a good
Speaker 1: scratch on the brushes we'd installed on the fence posts.
Speaker 1: The pigs were happy to see us and wagged their
Speaker 1: tails as we brought their breakfast. That's when the brain
Speaker 1: from our little coffle of donkeys got loud. They had
Speaker 1: been patient waiting their turn for breakfast and playtime, that
Speaker 1: they'd had enough and were he hawing loudly. Even before
Speaker 1: I rounded the wall that edged their pen, I had
Speaker 1: a wide smile on my face. Our donkeys, Bumblebee and Turnip,
Speaker 1: had had their first foal a month before. His name
Speaker 1: was George, and his soft gray fur reminded me of
Speaker 1: the duckling's fuzzy down. I went straight into their pen,
Speaker 1: and they all crowded around me, begging for pets on
Speaker 1: their long noses. If the goats were the silliest farm residents,
Speaker 1: the donkeys were the most affectionate. If we let them,
Speaker 1: they'd sleep in the house with us, curled up trying
Speaker 1: to share beds with the dogs. Baby George, still a
Speaker 1: bit shy, stood back behind Bumblebee, but only after I'd
Speaker 1: been in with them for a few minutes, slowly trotted
Speaker 1: forward to have his own head scratched out. We went
Speaker 1: into the yard and George ran out into the sun.
Speaker 1: Since he'd figured out running, he'd penned showing it off,
Speaker 1: speeding up and down the length of the barn yard,
Speaker 1: braying and kicking up dirt. His anti Muriel, a small
Speaker 1: donkey whose coloring was for some reason called roan and
Speaker 1: broken meaning brown and white, trotted after him. She tended
Speaker 1: to babysit George when they were out in the yard together.
Speaker 1: But I was glad for that. Muriel's eyesight was not
Speaker 1: very good, and donkeys often help their friends at times
Speaker 1: like those. My guest in a year or so, when
Speaker 1: George was a little more grown up, and when Muriel's
Speaker 1: sight was a little dimmer, he'd be leading her out
Speaker 1: to the pasture, guiding her to the trough and water barrels.
Speaker 1: I paused with the rake in my hands, and stood tall,
Speaker 1: stretching my spine and looking out at our animal family,
Speaker 1: the goats jumping on the picnic table, the ducks floating
Speaker 1: in the pond, Frida and Winnie, George and Aunt Muriel.
Speaker 1: We would have a busy, wonderful summer this year. Sweet Dreams,