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Resources — Wildfire & Disaster Preparedness

Wally the three-legged cat dozes by the hearth in his Christmas sweater, a picture of hard-won peace — and a reminder that cozy only happens because someone planned for the fire that doesn't ask permission.

resourceseducationdisaster-preparednesswildfire-preparednesswallymabelgoatscl-managementevacuation-planninglivestock-transportcldisaster-resources
A gray-muzzled pit bull mix wearing a red and white Fair Isle sweater and a small gray knit cap with a red pom-pom lies stretched out on a dark shag rug, chin resting on a tan bolster pillow and gaze tilted upward toward the camera. Behind him, a wood-burning fireplace set into a rustic red sandstone surround glows with active orange flames visible through a mesh screen, with a stack of split logs to the left and a metal ash bucket to the right. The warm firelight catches the silver tones of his muzzle and the texture of the stone wall, casting the entire scene in rich amber light.

Hey there, Mother Cluckers. Meet Wally.

Three legs, one Christmas sweater, and not a worry on him — stretched out by the fire like he owns the deed to the hearth. He came to us from a shelter, and this was his whole world for the few years we had with him; coming to us with three legs at age 12 and getting a few more years is a feat unto itself: a warm rug, a full belly, and a fire that stays exactly where it's told.

Here's the thing about a hearth fire — it's only cozy because somebody decided where it would and wouldn't go. The fire out on the ridge doesn't ask permission. And the gap between those two fires — between Wally dozing in his snowflakes and a 3 a.m. scramble with ash in your lungs — is a plan made before the wind ever picked up.

Take Mabel. She's our matriarch goat, and she didn't come alone — she arrived with a whole brood of kids living with CL, the kind of family a lot of places would have turned away. We didn't. But it means that when the horizon starts to smoke, you don't just load a herd in a trailer and roll out. Goats living with CL need careful handling, their own space, their own logistics. You can't improvise that at midnight. You plan it in daylight — or you don't get to plan it at all.

So we built the Wildfire & Disaster Preparedness resource: a 5-step, 13-question pathway for building your own animal emergency plan. Evacuation go-bags. Livestock transport logistics. Sanctuary-scale operations. All of it grounded in San Diego wildfire protocols and the kind of nights you only want to survive once. Disaster doesn't keep a calendar — fire season, winter storm, the power out at 4,200 feet — the wind never checks what month it is.

This isn't just for us. It's for anyone with an animal counting on them when the world tips sideways.

Wally earned his warm fire. Mabel's kids deserve a plan worthy of the family they are. Yours do too. Walk through the resource at www.steampunkfarms.org/resources, and let's get your plan made while the night is still quiet.

Here's to fires that stay right where we put them. 🐾🔥

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