Fear of Failure, a Lifelong Search for Love and Fulfillment

Cowboys Ride the Iron Horse is a roller-coaster chapter taking place on a snowbound train trying to get to Reno, Nevada.

Although intelligent enough to graduate veterinary school a month after my 27th birthday, it would take me many more years before I found my true self.

In the late spring of 1996, I received a notice from the AAAV they were looking for more material for the ostrich part of their annual convention at Tampa Bay Aug 28-30. I submitted a paper on Adverse Effects of High Environmental Temperatures on Ostrich Chicks, which was accepted.

Mary agreed to come along on my trip to Tampa Bay, which was after the big shout-out at the restaurant and before she served me with divorce papers. But still, she gave the thing another try and came along, arranging to have Nanny Kerry stay through the weekend with the kids.

“When do you plan on becoming married?” the woman asked.

Susan and I looked at each other. We had been maintaining a distance and were not holding hands, surprised, but not really that others could see through the sham, our feelings for each other were so intense.

“We are business acquaintances, and we are married to different people,” Susan announced, explaining to all she was accompanying me on these trips to increase her knowledge of ostrich medicine. The woman across the table remained unconvinced of our public declarations of abstinence.

“I want to know what I could say to my husband to let me go on an extended trip with my veterinarian,” the woman wondered aloud.

Deciding to create a plant paradise at Shadowmere Farms, I enrolled in classes at Santa Barbara Botanical Gardens to figure out how to grow those plants that could thrive in our climate zone. And I encouraged my extra-marital affair by meeting up with Susan, who was taking the exact same classes. Because of the long distance between Santa Barbara and Paso Robles I stayed at a hotel on beach.

My second ostrich speaking engagement happened at the American Ostrich Association’s yearly meeting in Dallas, Texas. I was one of four well-known ostrich vets invited to speak to AOA members regarding health and veterinary issues for their million-dollar birds.

After talks finished in the early afternoon, the entire audience congregated in a large auditorium to have a doctor question and answer period. The speakers were seated on a stage, just as I had done in Reno. I felt a difference this time. I was less nervous and ready to add my opinion to various questions. Dr. Karen Hicks was sitting to my left, and Dr. Shivaprasad was on my right. We were discussing the topic of identifying an overweight condition in ostrich hens. I suggested these birds are easy to see by viewing them from the back. Their round body form reminded me of a woman wearing pantyhose too small for her.

Listen to the podcast to hear the audience’s reaction.

I was smitten by this new woman in my life. Besides being pretty, Susan was keenly interested in my veterinary lifestyle. Her magnetism pulled me into an unthinking blissful bubble.

My insecurities heightened her appeal. Susan became my new sidekick; my supercharged mind released tons of endorphins deepening my ADHD hyper-focus. My brain surged with warm and fuzzy magic molecules, thus I thought about her constantly.

During this period of fuzzy, I conveniently forgot my marriage vows. While Mary was taking care of the family and the ostriches, and managing the practice’s financial matters, she had less time for me. In my immaturity I saw this as a failure on her part. In my mind I replaced Susan for Mary as she focused on raising our kids. She was taking care of family, I felt neglected; it became much easier to follow my new rainbow.

A few years into our marriage my ADHD insecurities partnered with my immature mindset to lead me down a rabbit hole of temptation, betrayal, disloyalty, and sadness.

When notice spread I was an ostrich veterinarian, calls asking for my help arrived regularly, many of them out of our area code. One call came from a fellow with a family fleeing South Africa, eager to set up an ostrich egg importation/quarantine station to bring ostriches to the United States. Such a station is required to keep foreign diseases from coming here.

My experiences inside these quarantine stations gave me insight to write Death from Down Under and Cocaine Eggs.

My confidence in my veterinary learning had developed to the point where I was ready to teach others what I had learned. I call this the circle of knowledge. First one must learn and understand the technique. Next comes using what you’ve learned over and over again until it becomes a part of you. Finally, it’s time to teach others what you’ve mastered. This is how knowledge enhances our human experience.