Farm life. Heartwarming, fresh air, the pulse of life flowing through our days.
Farm life. Heartbreaking, horrific, inadequacy and discouragement laced with grief and despair.
The past couple of weeks have been tough. Years of animal husbandry aside, suddenly we lost one of
our little goats. I found him in distress, high temp, and he passed away within minutes despite my best
efforts. We nearly lost his twin as well.
Then a few days ago, cleaning out our old seldom-used chicken coop, I found our missing free-range red
hen, Dark Wing, who had disappeared last spring. I knew she had started roosting away from the others,
and thought maybe she fell prey to a predator. Now I found her, nestled in a corner of the old coop, her
death still a mystery. Had she gotten in and though only a few feet from the propped-open escape
hatch, not remembered how to get out? Been stung by wasps? Gotten sick?
“Why are you and Dad looking upset and mad?” Abby asked us the next morning as DJ discreetly
disposed of the body so as not to upset little Sara.
Continuing on to the barn, I found our doe Mary Marie in labor, the “birthing bubble” proclaiming that
she was close to delivery. Yay, I thought, new life to offset loss.
Always our most wary and standoffish goat, Mary Marie seemed uncomfortable for me to come close,
so I backed off and let her continue the work of childbirth on her own. She was an experienced mom
with no history of difficulty.
Big mistake. I returned shortly to find the poor baby with only the head emerged. Even then, if I had
gone ahead and pulled it out, maybe I would have been quick enough. Maybe it hadn’t yet strangled.
But, afraid of tearing up the mom, instead I disinfected my hands and reached in, trying to find the
pushed-back front legs to get the baby in proper position.
To no avail. Later, our veterinarian told me that in like circumstances, he would just loop and pull the
baby out by the head.
“You did the best you could,” my mom tried to comfort me on the phone later.
But, the baby died. The mama had issues, needing care (a sleepless night for me) and a veterinarian visit
the next morning.
I wanted to give up. Forget the farm. So what of the families who come to learn farm life and animal-
keeping? Who am I to lead anyone in anything? The voice of the accuser beat at me.
Yet in the midst of it all, God sent comfort and encouragement. Sometimes I have felt alone. DJ was out
of town when I lost our almost-three-month-old twin buckling. Having injured my shoulder recently, I
couldn’t even begin to dig a grave for little Koda. My dear friend Lisa came to help bury the little
creature—even though her husband is the one to dispose of their losses. She came, she dug, we buried,
grieving.
Then, as I realized we were in danger of losing Koda’s twin, Kinney, and wasn’t able to reach our vet,
dear Ms. Mary from up the road came to the rescue with safe aspirin/dosage charts/antibiotics.
Together, we fought for the baby’s life, taking temps (it started at 105.7; normal is no higher than 103)
and dosing with a goat-friendly aspirin concoction and syringeful of antibiotic. Ms. Mary didn’t leave
until 11 p.m. that first night, and returned the next day with prepared syringes for the next four days.
Before long, Kinney was back to bouncing around the pasture.
How blessed I am with good friends. After losing Mary Marie’s baby in the birthing process, several
weeks premature, Ms. Mary hugged me, someone who understands the grief of losing beloved animals
entrusted to our care, realizing that our confidence in our knowledge and experience is finite and easily
overset.
So God has sent comfort, and encouragement to continue. Yesterday, we had new chicks hatch out, and
today DJ found another set. Friday, a church friend donated a long-needed riding ring/round pen.
Evidently God is not through with us/our ministry yet.