3.05.2013

a familiarity with dying


It has been awhile since I have had to deal with death on the farm. Nobody died today. Nothing to worry about. But while we were in North Carolina last month I walked into the presence of death immediately. Such a presence is unavoidable on such a big farm as the one down there. When we first arrived and were going pen to pen to say hi to all our old (animal) friends we came across a dead Pickle. Pickle had been one of the sows we worked with for many a litter of piglets during our tenure. Her death had been natural and by the looks of it, quite peaceful. We found her cold, lying amongst a bed of leaves, her big pigged brethren nearby. It was sad, but it wasn't shocking. I have found too many dead livestock in my days to count. And when you are raising several hundred hogs and several hundred cows as they do at Cane Creek, its going to happen...often.

Dead I can do well. Dying, I can't handle as gracefully. I cannot do anything for the dead animal, but with the dying animal there is hope, there is opportunity to save and to love.

The above calf was found, dying, in the pasture, on one of our recent mornings in North Carolina. He looked to have been abandoned by his mom. Elizabeth called Nick and I to say that she was going to intubate a calf and if we wanted to learn how, now was our chance. We scuttled to the far side of the farm where Elizabeth was with the calf, milk replacement and tube. We lay his wondrously heavy body down on my lap and Elizabeth showed Nick how to slide the tube down gently through his throat so we could get some milk replacer into his dying body in hopes of reviving him.

Milk replacer isn't realistically going to do squat if the calf hasn't had any colostrum. Elizabeth told me not to get attached (she knows me very very well). But I sat there in the sun and massaged his throat and kissed his head and tried to cure him with sheer will. I had Elizabeth's warning floating somewhere in the back of my brain but nonetheless logistics buzzed quickly through...We were headed to New York the next day and I wondered if Ayana could have cows in her apartment building even if dogs weren't allowed. I thought about the 10 hour drive ahead and how many times we'd need to stop to let him out for pee breaks. I wondered if calves were as good driving companions as piglets. I wondered if they could be house broken and if we would keep him in the living room or bedroom when we got home and that maybe Rudy would give him one of his dog beds.

He died quickly.  Before I had the chance to name him and cancel our city plans and convince Nick that we needed to put all this love into an animal we would then need to slaughter for beef a couple years later.

I still haven't found a comfortable place on the farm between loving the animals and distancing myself with their deaths. Our farm will grow bigger this year when our cows calve this spring. It will grow bigger still the following year with more calves and then lambs. It is not sustainable for our farm or my well being that I allow myself to be so attached. I do think it is vital that farmers shepherd their flock with a conscience and with love but we can't be stop-and-drop-everything-animal lovers for every being. There isn't enough time in the working day. I need to pick my favorites and my battles and distance myself from emotionality of it before it consumes me and I can no longer farm.  I am working on it, even if by appearances of this blog you would doubt it.

20 comments:

  1. I'm almost in tears just looking at that sweet baby in your lap- there is no way I could be a farmer and have to deal with that on a regular basis. I would be a basket case constantly! Bless you and your husband for what you do!

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  2. Your kind, sweet, caring, compassionate heart makes you all the more beautiful! :)

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  3. oh i don't know if i could do it. in college, one of my professors was also a sheep farmer (i was in vermont, you know) and part of the course each year was to spend a night in the barn during lambing season. we had an unseasonably warm early spring that year and the sheep were all confused, giving birth during the day. so i didn't witness any actual births during my shift as two sheep had lambed earlier that day. what i did witness was one mama stomp (we're pretty sure) on the smallest of her four lambs. and another lamb not be able to nurse. i remember so vividly running into the house in the middle of night, with an hours-old lamb tucked into my jacket to get a bottle to try to nurse it to health under the warmth of the heat lamps in my professor's living room. that one, luckily did survive. i imagine it's quite a process, and difficult task, to train yourself to not get too attached. but self awareness is always a good place to start, right?

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  4. I am also almost in tears. Wow, what an honest and beautiful piece. Thank you for sharing that experience.

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  5. It's hard farming animals (and birds), and each death brings sadness, after all we have them so our lives are enriched, whether it be by the companionship, for a product they produce or as nourishment in the form of them as food (if you are a meat eater, not that I am).

    I struggle with this all the time, but I will never stop naming my favourites, cuddling the poorly or young, or trying to win round those that seem determined to dislike me for reasons of their own.

    And all through their lives and in their final days I will always treat them with kindness and respect and feed them their favourite foods.

    I do everything I can find the time for to give their lives with us meaning and happiness.

    Happy farming is good for the soul, the animals, birds and ours.

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  6. I can only imagine how difficult that would be, but how wonderful to hold that calf's head in your lap (and future animals when time and presence allows)to say goodbye or hang on or wish you well...

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  7. thank you for such a beautiful and moving post. -jess

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  8. You are a wise and compassionate young farmer (my children's generation) and I treasure your blog. - Sam in Texas

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  9. Despite the sad outcome, he passed away warm and loved=(

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  10. Like other readers have said, the fact that you are so giving and provide your animals with so much love and support undoubtably helps them along in this journey more than you know. I once heard a quote that said, "In the midst of life we are in death". Ok, so it might have been said on Downton Abbey (judgments welcome), but it still resonated strongly with me. I guess what I'm trying to say is that you and your compassion for your animals is allowing them (when it happens) to have a beautiful death, and that is a very comforting thought.

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  11. This has made me a little teary. I really don't think I could do it. And you're right, death is a little easier than dying sometimes.

    Jen | sunny sweet pea xx

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  12. I find this post very moving. I really believe the energy you give these animals is felt and makes a difference. I remember trying so desperately to energetically save one of our dear cats. He was dying but I hadn't wrapped my head around it. I was so disappointed that my work didn't help him, but a friend gently reminded me that it had an impact and purpose to help this animal feel less distressd, feel less pain & pass on while being comforted. It's heartbreaking, yet completely real and raw.

    I shared this post on my blog yesterday along with another tear jerker post about animals and death.

    Www.fate-filledtimes.blogspot.ca


    <3 Amy

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  13. It is hard to balance. I have to work on it too!

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  14. Beautiful thoughts. I grew up on a farm and I remember many animals dying but we rarely got attached to many of them besides our barn cats and our working dogs. We did have a calf whose mother died of cancer one spring though and we raised him all summer, him just living in our farmyard, not fenced with the other cows in the pasture but sleeping next to our dogs and next to our motorbikes (we had motorbikes instead of horses). And that winter my mother couldn't bear to sell him for meat after bottle feeding and then weaning him and him living so close to us for so long so we kept him as a bull and he lived a happy life. He was the nicest bull you ever saw too! (Most of our bulls tended to be pretty persnickety). So even as a meat eater, who has eaten plenty of cows that we raised I understand this sentiment. :-)

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  15. I have spent the majority of my 44 years on working family farms- just a query.. how's that detachment working for you?I still fall head over heels, love without regard and feel the full brunt of pain when I find yet another kitten drowned in a water trough or have to put a beloved horse down due to colic. We just can't help but being who we are and experiencing all the emotions that living brings with it. As a doula I can tell you your son will be a lucky little boy to have a momma so full of openess to what the world has to offer!

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  16. On July 2nd, I found my Suzy (a 12-13yr old mixed breed cow)with her head stuck in the manger. She had died. Whether from heat/exhaustion or the actual trauma of being stuck,I don't know.I just prayed that it was quick and she'd not suffered long.
    She wasn't the most valuable animal on the farm, money wise. She had horns and was bony and scrawny. Of some sort of cross bred, dairy decent. But she was a fierce mother. Raising more often, than not, the most gentle and healthiest calves. But what I learned from that old cow helped me raise my own family. She'd nurse a calf that wasn't hers, chase stray dogs and occasionally neighbors away from where they didn't belong. And in her attitude, we were all part of her herd. From farm cats, to disappointed little boys, and the occasional neglected farm wife. A moo and a nuzzle is what she gave, but what we got was unconditional love.
    I was told our first fall of farming by an elderly neighbor, Honey don't get attached to them. And don't name the ones you'll eat. My then 4yr old son, has never eaten beef since.
    Suzy is buried at the edge of my yard. Just beyond the fence that seperates us from the pasture. She was as much like a faithful old dog as a cow. All you had to do was yell SUZY! And if she could hear you on this 44 acres, she'd moo and come trotting to that favorite spot at the edge of the yard. Where if you didn't produce the treats, she'd moo till you couldn't hear yourself think. We laughed, she was part goat...pizza crust, stale birthday cake, even pineapple tops. Everything was slobbered on and gobbled up. With the exception to my failed attempt at eggplant parmesan...even she wouldn't eat that.
    It was a good friendship. She taught me more about life than I ever imagined. You know? Make hay when the sun shines, keep your kids close at all times, and sometimes when you take the Bull by the horn...you step in his shit.
    The hard part now is moving on, as with any death, including our own.
    I have spent the last few days trying to make Suzy's 3mo old, heifer calf eat milk supplement and calf developer grain. She will only nibble grass and wander around the pasture. As with most of us girls, if we don't want to do it, it ain't gonna happen. I have tried to turn off the emotions. It's just a cow. It's just a calf. But the more I try to turn it off, the worse it seems to be for us all. We need to show compassion, patience, and love to one another... It keeps coming to my mind...we are ALL God's creatures. If anyone reads this and has any ideas that might help Little Suzy, yes, we named her, please respond and keep her in your prayers.

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    1. What a beautifully sad story about Suzy. I just read it aloud to Nick and my father who are sitting with me on the porch. From your words it sounds like she was a very special cow and I can't imagine how hard it must have been to find her there. I was, naturally, in tears at the end of your story. Nick though, ever the optimist, said "isn't it so great, though, that they get the change to raise her heifer calf just like they raised Suzy?". It is. You have a wonderful opportunity to give all your love to Little Suzy in Suzy's memory.

      Are you trying to feed her milk replacer by bottle? I would recommend doing that, about a gallon a day (1/2 gal x twice a day) until she gets too big or you get too busy. If you can find raw milk though, that of course is best...We raised Bella on milk replacer and it took her a while to grow and catch up to the rest of the calves her age.

      Sending good thought and love to Little Suzy.

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  17. I guess I should properly introduce myself. My name is Tonda, I live in small, WV community called Valley Furnace. Our community claim to fame, a stone furnace (now a roadside park) used during the civil war to melt ore for ammunition. Lots of small, generational family farms, mostly beef but a couple of struggling dairies. Big gas companies are moving in here and drilling Marcellus wells, big money will ruin a lot of these farms.
    But back to Little Suzy. She is still refusing the milk replacement, by bottle and by bucket. We separated her from the others again last night and she grazed in the yard. I just sat in the grass and talked to her. She has a fascination with the farm cats. Actually, followed two of them around the yard, and eventually into the garden last night. She is still spooky in her nature and doesn't want to be touched. We had a halter on her, and my husband took it off and put a large dog collar on. She did eat a few handfuls of the grain out of a container left in the yard, and half of a fresh peach that I tossed to her, and of course, she had to try the corn growing in the garden, also pulled up some of the green onions. That oddly made me smile...very much like her mommy. If I could just find something to tempt her, food wise. Someway to gain her trust and hand feed her without having to restrain her. What do you think about the cat fascination? Perhaps feeding them in the yard and putting her grain or a bucket of milk nearby? Maybe someone would befriend her? She is eating grass and drinking. The other cows and calves seem to be pushing her around a little, except the bull. Which is her Daddy. He will occasionally go to her and nuzzle her back and lick her eyes. A nurturing bull. Go figure? Ours is a strange bunch. thank you and yours for the kind ear. rain is finally stopping now, going out to check on my girl.

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    1. It is Tonda in WV. I had told my sister about your blog and since then, she has told me of your pregnancy. I have had you on my mind since reading of your long awaited son...I have two myself. I miss being needed by them now. As with your farming and animals, what you need to do for the little one will come naturally. Common sense will also play a role. And some of it will just make you scratch your head...you know? As far as home births, you will probably hear from my sister, Jody. She chose home birth with her youngest daughter,she said she felt empowered by what her body could do. I had horrible complications with all my pregnancies, and deliveries, but was BLESSED to have my boys. I never knew the love that my heart could hold until them...I will keep you and yours in my thoughts and prayers.

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