Reflection: Death on the Farmstead

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Today marks the anniversary of the first death I experienced in person, period. I've wanted to write about this so many times, but it was way to painful for so long. Even now, my heart is aching, but I am happy to say I am not crying. To me, that says that I am healing.

I realize that having animals, death is going to happen. But, I did not know how profoundly they would effect me. In the past when a pet or animal has died, I had miraculously been away and did not experience the actual tragedy.

*Note: This post will not be picture heavy - or maybe even have any images, because I did end up deleting many from my stores because of the profound sadness this event created in me. I have been avoiding FB memories for a few weeks now, just incase any images stayed around on FB... So now I am digging through FB trying to see if there's actually any images... No easy feat. - Oh good, I found a couple. ;) *

Late January 2017

The scene: We were busy painting our living room out of boredom of being snowed in for a month, and trying to make our new house a home.

farmstead farmsteadsmith painting

Husband painting our living room!

I get a call from my neighbor who raises Boar goats. He had a 4 day old bummer baby, which means his momma rejected him, and asked if I was interested in having it. I was so excited because a week earlier I had visited and met the adorable baby goats that had just been born. I got cleaned up, put on boots, talked to husband about it all and we decided that this would be a great opportunity for us to add a livestock! What luck! And boy were they cute.

Excitedly, we trudge down the snow to the neighbors across the highway. I am so gosh darn excited. I had a name picked out already, I wanted to name him Maynard. The neighbor thought this was hilarious because it was his sibling's nickname. As it turns out, the name didn't stick and we actually named this baby Monroe.

I did a ton of research on how to bottle feed a baby. There were just issues all the time. He didn't like the nipple and often just wouldn't eat at all. I thought I had it all figured out. Over the course of a few days I had purchased him all the supplies we would need. Good goat food, etc. For when he was bigger. I bought some human bottles and he seemed to take those on much better.

Then things started to get dicey. He got scours among other things like lice! We ended up taking him to the vet a few times a week and spent tons of money on this little guy. The vet helped us as much as they possibly could. Some days with little Monroe were so amazing. We built him a little "goaty area" out of cardboard boxes and he would jump all over them, knock down paper towel tubes and have a grand ol' goaty time.

We went and visited my grandparents and took him and the dog with us! They adored him, and loved having a little creature in the house with them. I was so diligent in feeding him and kept records of what he ate and how much. I made sure he had the best milk replacer because he was having such issues sometimes. But he would go to work with me to the honey shop I worked at, at the time, so I could make sure he was fed and not lonely. We were planning on getting another goat soon to keep him company. But I wasn't about to be bottle feeding another baby.

Other days, he was just sick, lethargic, and sometimes bloaty. I thought I had taken care of everything with him by getting him to the vet and getting things that he must've needed at the time. Sometimes he would collapse in place and my heart would sink. I had a feeling when I first got him that he may die, so I thought I had my wits about me. We probably took this poor thing to the vet about 10 times.

Then, today, last year in the morning, his poo was clear with blood in it. He was not interested in eating at all, and just was poorly. I took him to the vet that morning, and the vet gave me some things that should help. They said that they would take care of him that day. When I went back to the vet he was still in bad shape and they said that he had not eaten. The vet tried to tell me that he would not make it, but the vet did so well at making it sound positive that I didn't really take it to heart.

When I got home, he was even worse off. I did all the things the vet suggested. He was laying in a corner and had pooped himself and while he was trying to drink water, he mostly just nodded off into the bowl. My stomach was in knots. I had nothing else up my sleeve for him. We tried forcing him to drink his milk and taking medicine from the vet, but it did not help at all.

It came to the time where he just had to be held. The passing of creatures is the worst thing I have ever experienced. I wanted to call the vet to get him to come out and put him to sleep, but I knew he was on his way out. I think the worst thing about his passing was that when his organs were shutting down, he might yell or convulse. There really was nothing I could do to help him pass. So I sat there on the ground, with him in my lap to make sure that he knew he was loved. I was crying so hard the whole time. I felt that this was what I was supposed to do for him.

After he passed, it was very hard to accept that he had actually died. I kept asking husband if he was sure he was dead. It was surreal. I couldn't believe that it all just happened. We gingerly placed him in a box with his warm waterbottle and a blankey. It was after 9pm when he passed and thankfully the ground wasn't too frozen at the time and Husband was able to burry him that night. He is under a tree in the field.

I can't help but feel like I failed him. He loved me so much, he followed me around all the time, called for me, and the works. People have told me that I did more than most, and in my heart I know that I did. It is so hard because I had imagined him as a grown goat, being so friendly and loving, and it turned out that it didn't happen.

Some positive things about him were that he made everyone smile that he encountered. He was always so excited to see and meet people and my dog loved him. He brought a light to everyone. Some people came to my work just to see him. I only had him for a short two and a half weeks, but because he was so much work it felt like a long time. It had such an impact on my life.

After this happened, I went into a pretty deep depression. I cried so much, so often, and I was completely useless. I am crying now. I cannot believe that having something for such a short period of time, and losing them, has had such an impact on my emotional stability. A year later, I am still not stable and deal with thinking of this huge failure quite often.

Thankfully with my chickens I have not been this emotionally attached if one passes. I cannot tell you how much a relief that is. I cannot tell you if I ever will have furry livestock again, like another goat, but at the moment, I can't even fathom it. I have no idea how I will react when another one of my furry pets passes but I hope to goodness that it is not like this again.

Thank you to those of you who read this post. It is such a hard thing to deal with and this event has put such a dark spot in my life. For the longest time I avoided looking in the direction of Monroe's grave, and have avoided the spot in my kitchen where he passed on the floor in my lap.... It felt for the longest time that this life was not for me, that I would not be able to have more livestock, ever. And it still slightly feels that my home is haunted by this memory. Slowly, I have been healing, and I don't think about him every day anymore. I can walk over to his grave, and even don't think about that spot on the floor very often.

I know that this sort of thing is just a part of the homesteading life, it is probably one of the most difficult. I do apologize for the poor organization of this post. I know that every time I talk about this event, my heart heals just a tiny bit more. I just needed to get it out there, because I had been wanting to write on it for such a long time.

The vet ended up saying that he was basically a failure to thrive. He had so many parasites in his body and he may not have had enough colostrum. The neighbor said he had never had something like that happen before. Little Mo was just too good for this world, I guess. I hope is spirit is somewhere , frolicking along in a field somewhere, making someone else smile and laugh. I don't really believe in more after death, but if there is - I hope to goodness that I get to see this little guy again.

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