Most people, when they see my pack of dogs, ask me why in the world do I have so many. I tell them each has his own story as to how he ended up here, for I have never seen one of them as a puppy. I've decided to blog about this unique blend of dogs, their role in my life, and the observations of the relationships between them.
It used to be just Scout. She was Danny's Australian Shepherd when we married; he used to take her everywhere. Our friends Tim and Worth used to work with Danny and along the way they acquired three dogs - Jebo, Scooter, and Bandit. Worth had Jebo for a while, as he was one of Scout's pups from her only litter years ago. Scooter came along from Worth's sister, who caught wind this little terror was heading to the pound. Of course, Worth with his sweet heart volunteered to take the dog. Tim bought Bandit, a red border collie, from a flea market. Bandit could jump better than any dog I'd ever seen. He used to showoff about it, too, by throwing his hip and legs to the side as he jumped into the truck without the tailgate down.
Tim and Worth thought their dogs, too, should go to work. The four dogs became a menace - running around jobsites as if they owned them, picking fights with other dogs, rolling in anything they found dead, etc. The guys, after riding home with these smelly dogs, decided perhaps they should leave them at home. I was working at the time so I didn't spend much time with the pack, except for Scout. She'd already become a "mama's girl" and only followed my commands. She and I went everywhere together and developed quite a bond. The bond grew stronger after I quit work and was at home all day with her. The other dogs would cross over the mountain and hang out with Scout and me all day, but they always went home when the guys returned from work.
One day we got a phone call from one of Danny's lifelong friends from Wilmington. He had a year-old bloodhound that needed a good home. Don's mother had been keeping the dog at a horsefarm. Unfortunately, she lost the farm and had no place big enough for the bloodhound. Danny told Don he appreciated the offer but one dog was enough. Little did he know he would eat those words later! Again, Worth quickly stated that he would take the bloodhound. Don's mother brought the dog on the 7 hour trip to his new home, and Worth named him Blue. Danny's mom, who was Tim and Worth's landlord at the time, was not happy about the new dog in the family. In fact, she loathed the huge dog so much she started charging extra rent!
Blue and Scooter immediately hit it off. Scooter took his seniority seriously, and although he weighed 70 pounds less than Blue, he established his dominance right away. And this little one maintains his dominance to this day! Since Blue learned his place, the two of them have been running buddies ever since. Jebo's relationship with Blue was and still is different. Neither males are fixed, so that is the first source of contention. The other source, which I observed right away, was jealousy. Jebo's jealousy of Worth's attention to Blue was obvious to all. Eventually, Jebo quit hanging out with Worth very much and stayed at our house, being a mama's boy with Scout. Danny and I always marveled at the way Scout and Jebo treated each other in comparison to the others. When all the boys came to see Scout, she ALWAYS greeted Jebo first, with a lick on his nose as he wagged his docked tail. Years after being reunited, they seemed to know that they had a special bond, and we thought that was pretty cool. Even though Jebo felt slighted, Worth was so proud of Blue. They were "Pet of the Week" in Avery County and he referred to Blue as his chick magnet. Actually, Blue is just a people magnet - gender irrelevant.
On one sunny day in November, my friend Jamie and I had been riding horses. We learned on that trip that one of Jamie's dear friends was killed in a tractor accident earlier that afternoon, so we rode even longer to talk about it and mourn. As always, the dogs were right there with us. We were on a paved road just a few hundred feet from the trail home when a few neighborhood dogs started barking. Bandit immediately turned around and darted toward them across the road. He never saw the Dodge truck coming around the curve flying toward him, never stopping as they rode over his athletic body. It happened so fast I couldn't even get Bandit's name out of my mouth. I jumped off my horse so fast and ran to the dying dog, furious at the hillbilly that never even stopped. I cradled Bandit in my arms until he took his last breath. I picked him up, laid him across my saddle, mounted up, and cried all the way home. As soon as we came through the gate, Tim was there sitting on a horse, waiting on us. I'll never forget his face as he saw me coming with his lifeless companion draped over my lap. I don't know if he'll ever forgive me because he and Danny thought it was all my fault. Scout was just a fraction of a second away from the same fate. Somehow, she got out of the way but poor Bandit didn't. The dogs were quiet and lazy for a few days, mourning the loss of their buddy. It was down to Scout, Jebo, Scooter, and Blue for the next couple years. They became great friends.
On the last Monday morning in April of last year, I was coming out of the barn and saw a yellow dog crossing our pasture. I thought he was our neighbor's dog until I called to him and saw his eyes. They were bright blue! I immediately recognized this rare looking dog as the dog that had been hanging out at the grocery store 20 minutes away. My neighbor recognized him, too, for she works at the store and had been giving him all the dented cans of dog food. I thought she had brought him home and vice versa. He stayed for a day, went away, came back, and went away again. I had told Danny about this blue-eyed beauty but he never came around when Danny was home. One day Danny and I were driving home and we met this dog headed the opposite way. I stopped to show Danny his eyes, and the dog turned around and followed us home. He would NOT get in the truck, just kept running all the way behind us. Since that evening, he has never left my side. I started calling him "Roscoe", to continue the Dukes of Hazzard naming system.
My mailman asked me where I got the dog and I explained that he was a stray. Ironically, this dog was once his wife's puppy! She had a hard time keeping the dog at home and eventually gave him to her mother, who oddly enough was named Rhonda! Roscoe's original name was Rupert. I gave the mailman my phone number so I could speak with and return the dog to his rightful owner. Rhonda had an equally hard time keeping Roscoe Rupert at home, so she said if I could keep him home then I could have him. I had all the dogs with me when I was hauling trash one day when my friend Junior, the attendant, came out to help unload. He petted all the dogs and said, "Rupert??" He is Rhonda's father-in-law! Another piece of Roscoe's history! He, too, said they could never keep him at home and for 6 years tried to get him in a truck. (It took me two days.) I'm still not sure how Roscoe ended up so far away from home. I learned that Rhonda attends the church at the bottom of my road and he walked up on a Monday so...
I feel pretty flattered that Roscoe chose me as his master. This dog adores me! Worth warned me that he would be a killing dog with his almost-white eyes, but I kept him anyway. A wild cat, a turkey, and a few rabbits later I understood what Worth saw in his eyes. Roscoe is so gentle until he is provoked, then he becomes vicious. His instincts are strong and he knows the two best places to go in for a kill. I have no doubt that of my five dogs, he would attack for me with more vigor than any other. He loves to ride in the truck and has never ran away. In fact, when we go over to the family farm, he usually crosses the mountain and arrives home before we do. It was funny when we learned of his Rupert name and started calling him that from time to time. It seemed he looked at us as if we were not supposed to know of his former life. Either way, the dog is totally happy now and a joy to have.
Worth died suddenly just a couple weeks after Roscoe arrived. His wife, Wendy, let us keep his three dogs and one of his horses, since they loved their mountain home so much. In a matter of weeks, I went from owning one dog to five. It was a huge adjustment for Scout and definitely for me. It took weeks to establish a routine and order. Blue, Scooter, and Jebo searched for Worth for weeks before accepting that he was gone and this was their new home. It took even longer for them to accept me as their master, which they now have done whole-heartedly.
Since I have the luxury of being home all day, the dogs quickly became active in my personal routine. They took on my jobs as their jobs, too. They anxiously await to hear my boots on the floor in the morning because they know I'm about to come outside. Sometimes they don't wait and wimper at the door, especially if I take longer than usual. It is like the Glorious Appearing each morning that I walk out, as if they have waited so long to see me and feel my hand on their head. It is absolutely precious! I often peek out the window after slipping on my boots to see their reactions...tails wagging, stretching, barking, and jumping around like puppies. They are so excited to go anywhere, even to the mailbox only 25 feet away.
Danny is a bit offended that the dogs only pay attention to him if he has a snack in his hand. I make Danny feed them scraps each evening so they continue to like him! We laugh because they never follow him anywhere, not even on the four-wheeler, and they never even lift their heads when he walks outside. They only get in his truck if I tell them to or they see me get in first. They are so loyal and loving, to me that is!
Each dog has his/her own quirks, but they blend together nicely. Scout and Jebo are a click, and Scooter and Blue are a click. Roscoe is happy to be with any of them, but mostly stays literally right beside me. They growl over me and food, but don't really fight. They know that's not allowed. People think I'm crazy because I talk to them so much, but who else is there to talk to in a lonely holler? I believe talking to them has made them so much easier to handle because five dogs can quickly get out of hand. They have quite a vocabulary that they recognize, including the tone of my voice. I've trained them to correlate hand and facial gestures with certain tones so I don't even have to open my mouth to correct or praise them. I even have two dogs that smile back! They hold me accountable for keeping them busy and active, and can be quite dramatic when I leave in my truck without them. Scooter usually gets the drama award.
Yes, we spend a lot in dog food, care, and time...with so many outdoor jobs, I spend hours and hours each week with the pups, in addition to engaging them in daily physical activity. Imagine loading them all to go to the vet! Five barking dogs in the back of a truck can be overwhelming...we are (in)famous in my truck. The pups even have their own featured photo in the back of my truck on the counter at the feed store! Having yelping dogs pull on your horses' tails and threaten fights with other dogs as we ride can be nerve-racking. A kind-hearted husband who lets all five in on a cold, snowy day can be quite aggravating, especially on clean floors. But I wouldn't trade anything for it! I feel blessed that I have five dogs to love and love me back, eagerly and sweetly greeting me each time I go outside. I feel safe anywhere I go because I know any or all of my five would give their life in a heartbeat for me. They think I'm the greatest person alive and I try not to disappoint them. They observe me and I observe them, and together we have learned from each other. I wish we could all have more similarities with dogs...friendships would not be broken, loyalty would never be doubted, love would be undying, and joy would abound.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Goodbye Kitty
There has been yet another sad day at Arnold Acres, even in the midst of the brighter ones I have discussed. My sweet little Bo had to be put to sleep on March 17, exactly three months ago today. He was only 6 years old, about the equivalency of a 40 year old man.
I had noticed over the past three weeks that Little Bo wasn't acting right. He didn't want to play and hunt outside as usual, and his appetite was decreasing. Bo Bo was always one to suffer from hairballs, and I recalled returning from Georgia on February 24 and cleaning one up. That was the last hairball I remembered, so I was thinking Bo had one he could not cough up. Two weeks later, he never wanted to get out of his chair, was barely eating, and cried immensely when I picked him up. I fed him canned food and tuna, rare favorites of the kitty, and he eventually stopped eating that. Danny and I decided I should take him to the vet to determine what was causing him the pain and loss of appetite. Additionally, my 15-lb kitty felt as if he'd lost five pounds. On Sunday, the day before his scheduled appointment, he began hiding in Danny's closet. I told Danny I had a very ominous feeling about the situation.
The Monday morning of his appointment, I fed him his favorite treats, the only thing he would eat. I picked him up and put him on the dresser he loved to lay on and watch birds at the bird feeder. This particular morning there was a goose below the feeder and boy did Bo's eyes widen at the size of this bird! He made little meow noises and watched intently. I helped him down and took him to the bed, where his brother and lifelong companion was lying. I sat him by Luke and made them say goodbye. This trip would be the first time the boys were ever separated. Luke watched as I put Bo in the carrier and took him to the truck. It was the last time he got to see his best friend.
Dr. Sluss, our usual doctor, was unavailable. We had to see the Nazi vet we'd seen once before, the one that chastised me for having fat cats, letting dogs ride in the back of the truck, etc.
I described his demise to the vet and asked for an xray to determine if a lodged hairball was the culprit. Dr. Sluss is the one who does xrays so Dr. Lane transferred the case to her. Dr. Sluss noticed his wheezy breathing right away and ordered a full body scan. Bo had suffered from feline asthma since I had him, so I thought the wheeze was no big deal. Guess that's why I'm not a vet. My hairball theory was proven wrong as well.
So it was that Little Bo had a huge tumor, "lymphosarcoma", about the size of the palm of my hand, that had grown inward and pushed all of his organs up. Both lungs were filled with fluid- the right one completely, and all but 1/3 of his left. His diagnosis was poor, only a few days left at most. The kindest thing I could do for my little buddy was to put him out of his misery, which I opted to do just an hour after bringing him in to fix his hairball.
I called Danny to tell him about my decision. Dr. Sluss allowed me some time with Little Bo before I gave the okay to end his life. I spent ten PRECIOUS minutes with my sweet friend, hugging and kissing him and stroking his silky fur. I requested Dr. Sluss to come in after ten minutes, because if I waited any longer, I would have probably sat in that chair with him for the three to four days left of his life. I took a picture of Bo Bo with my phone prior to the killer shot and kissed him one more time, right below the ear in his fuzzy little spot I'd kissed for over 6 years. I just kept petting him like nothing was wrong. Dr. Sluss gave him the shot and it took his life so fast that he didn't even have time to close his eyes. As many times as my heart has been broken in the past couple years, the tears flowed so freely...as if I hadn't cried in years. Dr. Sluss was so kind and compassionate, a friend in my time of need...offering the hug I so needed. She took him out the exam room and minutes later brought him back in his little coffin. She helped me out to the truck and hugged me one more time as I left on my journey home with my dead kitty.
I cried the whole way of the 40-minute trip, and pretty much the rest of the day. After work, Danny helped me bury him in the pasture, in a special spot that I could see from the bedroom window. Jamie happened to come by during the burial and we all cried over the loss of this fun kitty. Little Bo was always the sociable one, out hunting in the yard or the barn, or begging guests to play with him with his favorite toy. He was the one that woke me up every morning, biting me on my nose or chin until I gave in to feeding him. Life would be so different now.
Luke took the loss pretty hard. He continually looked for Bo Bo all day and night and the next day. He went to all of Bo's favorite spots to no avail. He couldn't understand where Bo was. Danny decided with the way Luke was acting the best thing to do was to get him another companion. So I went to the humane society the next day to see the available kittens.
I used much discretion in choosing a companion. I watched the cats for two hours and decided to think about it over night, having narrowed my selection down to two. I described them to Danny and showed him pictures on the humane society website. The next day, I returned to the pound and pulled out my two selections, a boy and a girl, to observe one more time. The boy cat was very timid and not very playful that morning, so I decided Scout and I needed some more girls around and got Luke a little girl cat for his companion.
She is a 2-yr old brown tabby and was the fattest one in the pound! She, a stray from Elk Park, had been there since November 3, the longest of any of the cats available for adoption. She was good with dogs and loved to play with the other cats. I thought she would be the perfect match. I changed her name from Cora to Peanut and took her to her new home in Hicks Hollow.
Luke hated Peanut for the first three days. He hissed at her and ignored her; I'd never seen Luke be so hateful. His curiosity in her made him come around; she was always trying to get him to play and get into mischief. Since I've waited so long to blog about my Wittle Bo, Luke and Peanut have become good friends and wrestlers. I felt like I was betraying Bo when I brought her home, just less than two days after he passed. But Little Bo was so sweet and loving I think he would've been happy that I got his brother another buddy. He would've loved to play with this girl kitty! She's got a lot of quirks similar to Bo...she's quite sociable and loves to hunt and play. Little Bo's death may have spared her from a similar one, since she had been overlooked for four months at the pound.
While she has added much joy to our lives, I still miss my boy and get angry that he died so young. He broke our contract of staying with me until I am 40, but I am thankful for the six years of companionship he provided me. I have many fond and funny memories about things Bo Bo did and the idiosyncrasies of his personality.
So we've suffered another loss here at Arnold Acres. But with each loss, we seem to gain something...whether it be another animal, or just the understanding that life is fragile and never to be taken for granted.
I had noticed over the past three weeks that Little Bo wasn't acting right. He didn't want to play and hunt outside as usual, and his appetite was decreasing. Bo Bo was always one to suffer from hairballs, and I recalled returning from Georgia on February 24 and cleaning one up. That was the last hairball I remembered, so I was thinking Bo had one he could not cough up. Two weeks later, he never wanted to get out of his chair, was barely eating, and cried immensely when I picked him up. I fed him canned food and tuna, rare favorites of the kitty, and he eventually stopped eating that. Danny and I decided I should take him to the vet to determine what was causing him the pain and loss of appetite. Additionally, my 15-lb kitty felt as if he'd lost five pounds. On Sunday, the day before his scheduled appointment, he began hiding in Danny's closet. I told Danny I had a very ominous feeling about the situation.
The Monday morning of his appointment, I fed him his favorite treats, the only thing he would eat. I picked him up and put him on the dresser he loved to lay on and watch birds at the bird feeder. This particular morning there was a goose below the feeder and boy did Bo's eyes widen at the size of this bird! He made little meow noises and watched intently. I helped him down and took him to the bed, where his brother and lifelong companion was lying. I sat him by Luke and made them say goodbye. This trip would be the first time the boys were ever separated. Luke watched as I put Bo in the carrier and took him to the truck. It was the last time he got to see his best friend.
Dr. Sluss, our usual doctor, was unavailable. We had to see the Nazi vet we'd seen once before, the one that chastised me for having fat cats, letting dogs ride in the back of the truck, etc.
I described his demise to the vet and asked for an xray to determine if a lodged hairball was the culprit. Dr. Sluss is the one who does xrays so Dr. Lane transferred the case to her. Dr. Sluss noticed his wheezy breathing right away and ordered a full body scan. Bo had suffered from feline asthma since I had him, so I thought the wheeze was no big deal. Guess that's why I'm not a vet. My hairball theory was proven wrong as well.
So it was that Little Bo had a huge tumor, "lymphosarcoma", about the size of the palm of my hand, that had grown inward and pushed all of his organs up. Both lungs were filled with fluid- the right one completely, and all but 1/3 of his left. His diagnosis was poor, only a few days left at most. The kindest thing I could do for my little buddy was to put him out of his misery, which I opted to do just an hour after bringing him in to fix his hairball.
I called Danny to tell him about my decision. Dr. Sluss allowed me some time with Little Bo before I gave the okay to end his life. I spent ten PRECIOUS minutes with my sweet friend, hugging and kissing him and stroking his silky fur. I requested Dr. Sluss to come in after ten minutes, because if I waited any longer, I would have probably sat in that chair with him for the three to four days left of his life. I took a picture of Bo Bo with my phone prior to the killer shot and kissed him one more time, right below the ear in his fuzzy little spot I'd kissed for over 6 years. I just kept petting him like nothing was wrong. Dr. Sluss gave him the shot and it took his life so fast that he didn't even have time to close his eyes. As many times as my heart has been broken in the past couple years, the tears flowed so freely...as if I hadn't cried in years. Dr. Sluss was so kind and compassionate, a friend in my time of need...offering the hug I so needed. She took him out the exam room and minutes later brought him back in his little coffin. She helped me out to the truck and hugged me one more time as I left on my journey home with my dead kitty.
I cried the whole way of the 40-minute trip, and pretty much the rest of the day. After work, Danny helped me bury him in the pasture, in a special spot that I could see from the bedroom window. Jamie happened to come by during the burial and we all cried over the loss of this fun kitty. Little Bo was always the sociable one, out hunting in the yard or the barn, or begging guests to play with him with his favorite toy. He was the one that woke me up every morning, biting me on my nose or chin until I gave in to feeding him. Life would be so different now.
Luke took the loss pretty hard. He continually looked for Bo Bo all day and night and the next day. He went to all of Bo's favorite spots to no avail. He couldn't understand where Bo was. Danny decided with the way Luke was acting the best thing to do was to get him another companion. So I went to the humane society the next day to see the available kittens.
I used much discretion in choosing a companion. I watched the cats for two hours and decided to think about it over night, having narrowed my selection down to two. I described them to Danny and showed him pictures on the humane society website. The next day, I returned to the pound and pulled out my two selections, a boy and a girl, to observe one more time. The boy cat was very timid and not very playful that morning, so I decided Scout and I needed some more girls around and got Luke a little girl cat for his companion.
She is a 2-yr old brown tabby and was the fattest one in the pound! She, a stray from Elk Park, had been there since November 3, the longest of any of the cats available for adoption. She was good with dogs and loved to play with the other cats. I thought she would be the perfect match. I changed her name from Cora to Peanut and took her to her new home in Hicks Hollow.
Luke hated Peanut for the first three days. He hissed at her and ignored her; I'd never seen Luke be so hateful. His curiosity in her made him come around; she was always trying to get him to play and get into mischief. Since I've waited so long to blog about my Wittle Bo, Luke and Peanut have become good friends and wrestlers. I felt like I was betraying Bo when I brought her home, just less than two days after he passed. But Little Bo was so sweet and loving I think he would've been happy that I got his brother another buddy. He would've loved to play with this girl kitty! She's got a lot of quirks similar to Bo...she's quite sociable and loves to hunt and play. Little Bo's death may have spared her from a similar one, since she had been overlooked for four months at the pound.
While she has added much joy to our lives, I still miss my boy and get angry that he died so young. He broke our contract of staying with me until I am 40, but I am thankful for the six years of companionship he provided me. I have many fond and funny memories about things Bo Bo did and the idiosyncrasies of his personality.
So we've suffered another loss here at Arnold Acres. But with each loss, we seem to gain something...whether it be another animal, or just the understanding that life is fragile and never to be taken for granted.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
A Million Miles from Nowhere
Danny and I shared a fabulous weekend together, and I feel it supercedes the sad blog I have been procrastinating on posting about losing my Little Bo, my six-year old cat, on St. Patrick's Day. The wound is still too fresh to write about without stirring emotion.
While the weather is still chilly and blustery on days, we are finally thawing out and transitioning into warmer weather. We decided to go camping on Saturday to our favorite spot on Elk River, the "Splashdowns". Saturday marked the one-year anniversary of when our dear friend Worth passed away. We can't believe we've lived one year without him by our side. The Splashdowns was one of his favorite spots as well, so we felt it was the right place to celebrate his life and rejuvenate our own. The weather on Saturday was picture perfect, a blinding Carolina blue sky during the day with an almost full, very bright moon during the night. The horses were very well-behaved and a pleasure to ride. The campsite was vacant and we had this little piece of heaven all to ourselves.
After a restful night under our canopy of stars, we awoke to a clear morning, full of fresh air and the smell of spring...which is almost intoxicating. Each time I smell the fragrance that comes with this time of year, I am taken back to the times when I would come to visit and try to breathe in as much of this mountain air that my lungs could hold. After getting the fire going again, Danny and I walked out onto the big rock that overlooks the waterfall and the river full of huge boulders and prime fishing waters. The dogs, who actually slept all around us in our tarp keeping watchful eyes and providing more warmth, had a blast following their noses and tracing hints of wildlife. While sitting on the rock and listening to our bloodhound on the trail, I was mesmerized at the solitude with which Danny and I were blessed.
We can travel just a couple miles from our home and end up a million miles from nowhere, and everyone! While many people know about this haven beyond the Elk River Falls, I felt like we were in our own secret, special world, away from reality, away from problems. It was just us...and the dogs and horses, of course...but what a wonderful addition to our sweet time together. To sit out in this realm of nature with the love of my life by my side is almost indescribable, but worth the effort of trying to put it into words. I am so thankful for the opportunity to have such an experience and the chance to create so many awesome memories. Sometimes when I see elderly people, I wonder what stories they have to tell, and if they had times like this in their youth. If that little old lady behind her walker used to love to ride her horse and sit by a campfire. If that little old man shuffling with his steps used to wade in the river catching "the big one". I hope Danny and I can live to tell of all the wonderful memories we share!
On a final note of this amazing weekend, our ride home was another piece of the trip to share. We decided to take the long way home to ensure the horses don't automatically think they get to go straight home. Since we did so, we gave time for rain to set in on us on the ride. Danny kept apologizing for us getting wet, although with our dusters on we didn't feel much rain. I felt it was the perfect ending to the perfect trip. I LOVED watching my cowboy ahead of me on his beautiful horse walking in the rain. It was so peaceful, and another image I tried to memorize and store into my photographic memory. Thank you Lord for such a wonderful time!
While the weather is still chilly and blustery on days, we are finally thawing out and transitioning into warmer weather. We decided to go camping on Saturday to our favorite spot on Elk River, the "Splashdowns". Saturday marked the one-year anniversary of when our dear friend Worth passed away. We can't believe we've lived one year without him by our side. The Splashdowns was one of his favorite spots as well, so we felt it was the right place to celebrate his life and rejuvenate our own. The weather on Saturday was picture perfect, a blinding Carolina blue sky during the day with an almost full, very bright moon during the night. The horses were very well-behaved and a pleasure to ride. The campsite was vacant and we had this little piece of heaven all to ourselves.
After a restful night under our canopy of stars, we awoke to a clear morning, full of fresh air and the smell of spring...which is almost intoxicating. Each time I smell the fragrance that comes with this time of year, I am taken back to the times when I would come to visit and try to breathe in as much of this mountain air that my lungs could hold. After getting the fire going again, Danny and I walked out onto the big rock that overlooks the waterfall and the river full of huge boulders and prime fishing waters. The dogs, who actually slept all around us in our tarp keeping watchful eyes and providing more warmth, had a blast following their noses and tracing hints of wildlife. While sitting on the rock and listening to our bloodhound on the trail, I was mesmerized at the solitude with which Danny and I were blessed.
We can travel just a couple miles from our home and end up a million miles from nowhere, and everyone! While many people know about this haven beyond the Elk River Falls, I felt like we were in our own secret, special world, away from reality, away from problems. It was just us...and the dogs and horses, of course...but what a wonderful addition to our sweet time together. To sit out in this realm of nature with the love of my life by my side is almost indescribable, but worth the effort of trying to put it into words. I am so thankful for the opportunity to have such an experience and the chance to create so many awesome memories. Sometimes when I see elderly people, I wonder what stories they have to tell, and if they had times like this in their youth. If that little old lady behind her walker used to love to ride her horse and sit by a campfire. If that little old man shuffling with his steps used to wade in the river catching "the big one". I hope Danny and I can live to tell of all the wonderful memories we share!
On a final note of this amazing weekend, our ride home was another piece of the trip to share. We decided to take the long way home to ensure the horses don't automatically think they get to go straight home. Since we did so, we gave time for rain to set in on us on the ride. Danny kept apologizing for us getting wet, although with our dusters on we didn't feel much rain. I felt it was the perfect ending to the perfect trip. I LOVED watching my cowboy ahead of me on his beautiful horse walking in the rain. It was so peaceful, and another image I tried to memorize and store into my photographic memory. Thank you Lord for such a wonderful time!
Thursday, April 10, 2008
My first pull
Danny and I went to Georgia the first time since Christmas on the weekend of February 23. I was able to spend some great time with Tommy and his two kids, Brennan and Blair, whom I haven't seen since last Memorial Day. Brennan was celebrating his 9th birthday; Danny and I went with them and a friend of Brennan's to the GA National Rodeo. We had a lot of fun and all dressed up in cowboy hats and attire. It was a nice weekend with my parents as well, seeing some of their recent projects. Danny and I particularly enjoyed the sunshine and warmth, after a very dreary month in the mountains.
On the following Monday morning, Danny returned to work and I returned to my chores. I went to feed the livestock around 9:00am and found our cow Daisy in labor! She was our last one to have a calf and I had been watching her signs. I tried not to fret over the weekend as we were away, and thankfully she waited until Monday!
Daisy was not in full-blown labor yet, just switching her tail from side to side, stomping her back feet, and being very aggressive with Jill. She tried to eat, but couldn't, and instead proceeded to walk up a trail to the top of the mountain. I remembered Daddy saying that it typically takes 2-3 hours for the calf to come from the first signs of labor. While we were down that weekend and checking the cows with Daddy, he had a cow showing some of the same early signs. I'm glad I was there to hear his statement! I finished feeding the animals and went back to the house to feed the dogs and myself. I had a few other things to do during my 2-3 hour wait.
At about 11:00, I coaxed the dogs into the house, locked them in, grabbed my camera, and hiked up the trail Daisy had taken. I found Daisy in the same stage as before. Within just ten minutes though, the sack started to come out, and then one foot. I began taking pictures of the process. Daisy stood up and laid down often, only able to get the one foot out. I sensed that this was not right but did not want to intervene too early. I decided to test Daisy's comfort level with me and tugged on the leg of the calf. She did not have a problem with me around her, but Caroline did! Caroline charged me each time I tried to approach Daisy. Not good! I decided this would be the time to go back to the house and make a few calls. Danny had sweetly gotten my cell phone out the truck the night before, but forgot to give it back to me Monday morning. So, the one day I need my phone, I did not have it!
I hiked back down to the house and called Danny to no avail. I needed to get the vet's number out of my phone as well as let Danny know what was going on. Since I had no luck getting Danny, I called my dad to find out exactly how to pull this calf. He told me to get the foot back in and find the other one because both feet needed to be coming out, and get a rope to help pull. Daddy also suggested to call a vet, knowing we have not had the best luck with our livestock. I called a local large animal vet instead of our usual, who is about 90 minutes away. The vet was in surgery but would call me back. So, I had to wait at the house until the vet returned my call. I got the four-wheeler to move up and down the mountain more quickly, and checked on Daisy while waiting on the call-I wanted to be sure about the situation before I described it to the vet. She was foaming at the mouth, her tongue was hanging out, and her eyes were rolled back in her head. I did NOT want to lose our cow. So I returned to the house and Daddy called. He had spoken with his neighbor who owns a dairy and his advice was the same, push the one foot in and get both coming out. Just after that call, the vet returned my call with the same exact advice, which was all he could give because his truck was broken down and could not come to help! Just our luck!
Armed with expert advice and a rope, I proceeded to head back to Daisy when Danny finally called back. I debriefed him on the situation and he said that he would come home to help, but I knew there was no time to wait. Luckily, when I got back to the top, Caroline had taken her calf down the mountain to sunbathe, so I had Daisy all to myself. I pushed my sleeves up and did exactly as I was told. I fully expected the calf to be dead after it's foot hung out for over an hour, but I had to get it out to save the cow. The hard part was not pushing the foot back in, but finding the other one! I found it folded up and had to straigten it out. By the time I got back to the top, Daisy had been too tired to push any more, but any time I moved my hands (and arms!) around inside, it would make her push, which was a big help. I was able to get both feet coming out in a more natural position and could then see the calf's head, whose tongue was hanging out. Dead for sure, I thought. However, once I got the head out the little one started gasping for air! What an adrenaline rush! I then had the extra energy needed to pull calf completely out. The rope was not very handy for me, so I relied on my own hands and power, and the cooperation of my Daisy.
The whole process took about 45 minutes but was one of the most rewarding experiences I have ever had. Daisy had a healthy, large bull calf. After she came to her senses, she began licking and cleaning him like good mama cows do. The day was warm and the sunshine helped revive the weak calf. As I started to head back to the house and let the cows investigate their new family member, Danny and our friend Jamie were headed up. Danny was so proud of me! We observed the cow/calf pair for a while and after seeing Daisy consistently refuse to let the little one nurse, decided we better intervene again. We are aware that the first milk is critical to the survival of the calf. After a few attempts, we decided to get some panels from the roundpen and pen the two up. We made a nice square pen and with grain, hay, and water, soon had Daisy locked in with her calf. While Daisy was distracted with her hard-earned meal, I was able to cup her utters into the calf's mouth, until he figured out he could do it on his own. After that, nature took its course. I seemed more sore than the cow for the next few days, for she and the calf were healthy and vibrant.
We were so fortunate that this did not happen while we were in Georgia. I would have been so heartbroken to return home to a dead Daisy, especially after all the heartaches on Arnold Acres. It was so rewarding to participate in such a happy ending. I am thankful for the advice and the ability to do such an act. As I said before, perhaps brighter days are ahead for us!
On the following Monday morning, Danny returned to work and I returned to my chores. I went to feed the livestock around 9:00am and found our cow Daisy in labor! She was our last one to have a calf and I had been watching her signs. I tried not to fret over the weekend as we were away, and thankfully she waited until Monday!
Daisy was not in full-blown labor yet, just switching her tail from side to side, stomping her back feet, and being very aggressive with Jill. She tried to eat, but couldn't, and instead proceeded to walk up a trail to the top of the mountain. I remembered Daddy saying that it typically takes 2-3 hours for the calf to come from the first signs of labor. While we were down that weekend and checking the cows with Daddy, he had a cow showing some of the same early signs. I'm glad I was there to hear his statement! I finished feeding the animals and went back to the house to feed the dogs and myself. I had a few other things to do during my 2-3 hour wait.
At about 11:00, I coaxed the dogs into the house, locked them in, grabbed my camera, and hiked up the trail Daisy had taken. I found Daisy in the same stage as before. Within just ten minutes though, the sack started to come out, and then one foot. I began taking pictures of the process. Daisy stood up and laid down often, only able to get the one foot out. I sensed that this was not right but did not want to intervene too early. I decided to test Daisy's comfort level with me and tugged on the leg of the calf. She did not have a problem with me around her, but Caroline did! Caroline charged me each time I tried to approach Daisy. Not good! I decided this would be the time to go back to the house and make a few calls. Danny had sweetly gotten my cell phone out the truck the night before, but forgot to give it back to me Monday morning. So, the one day I need my phone, I did not have it!
I hiked back down to the house and called Danny to no avail. I needed to get the vet's number out of my phone as well as let Danny know what was going on. Since I had no luck getting Danny, I called my dad to find out exactly how to pull this calf. He told me to get the foot back in and find the other one because both feet needed to be coming out, and get a rope to help pull. Daddy also suggested to call a vet, knowing we have not had the best luck with our livestock. I called a local large animal vet instead of our usual, who is about 90 minutes away. The vet was in surgery but would call me back. So, I had to wait at the house until the vet returned my call. I got the four-wheeler to move up and down the mountain more quickly, and checked on Daisy while waiting on the call-I wanted to be sure about the situation before I described it to the vet. She was foaming at the mouth, her tongue was hanging out, and her eyes were rolled back in her head. I did NOT want to lose our cow. So I returned to the house and Daddy called. He had spoken with his neighbor who owns a dairy and his advice was the same, push the one foot in and get both coming out. Just after that call, the vet returned my call with the same exact advice, which was all he could give because his truck was broken down and could not come to help! Just our luck!
Armed with expert advice and a rope, I proceeded to head back to Daisy when Danny finally called back. I debriefed him on the situation and he said that he would come home to help, but I knew there was no time to wait. Luckily, when I got back to the top, Caroline had taken her calf down the mountain to sunbathe, so I had Daisy all to myself. I pushed my sleeves up and did exactly as I was told. I fully expected the calf to be dead after it's foot hung out for over an hour, but I had to get it out to save the cow. The hard part was not pushing the foot back in, but finding the other one! I found it folded up and had to straigten it out. By the time I got back to the top, Daisy had been too tired to push any more, but any time I moved my hands (and arms!) around inside, it would make her push, which was a big help. I was able to get both feet coming out in a more natural position and could then see the calf's head, whose tongue was hanging out. Dead for sure, I thought. However, once I got the head out the little one started gasping for air! What an adrenaline rush! I then had the extra energy needed to pull calf completely out. The rope was not very handy for me, so I relied on my own hands and power, and the cooperation of my Daisy.
The whole process took about 45 minutes but was one of the most rewarding experiences I have ever had. Daisy had a healthy, large bull calf. After she came to her senses, she began licking and cleaning him like good mama cows do. The day was warm and the sunshine helped revive the weak calf. As I started to head back to the house and let the cows investigate their new family member, Danny and our friend Jamie were headed up. Danny was so proud of me! We observed the cow/calf pair for a while and after seeing Daisy consistently refuse to let the little one nurse, decided we better intervene again. We are aware that the first milk is critical to the survival of the calf. After a few attempts, we decided to get some panels from the roundpen and pen the two up. We made a nice square pen and with grain, hay, and water, soon had Daisy locked in with her calf. While Daisy was distracted with her hard-earned meal, I was able to cup her utters into the calf's mouth, until he figured out he could do it on his own. After that, nature took its course. I seemed more sore than the cow for the next few days, for she and the calf were healthy and vibrant.
We were so fortunate that this did not happen while we were in Georgia. I would have been so heartbroken to return home to a dead Daisy, especially after all the heartaches on Arnold Acres. It was so rewarding to participate in such a happy ending. I am thankful for the advice and the ability to do such an act. As I said before, perhaps brighter days are ahead for us!
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Brighter Days
Friday, January 11, was another sad morning on the farm. As you recall, our "midget" cow Jill has had a hard life for a cow. She fell into a spring of freezing water in 15 degree weather just hours after being born and was orphaned seven months from that day. Not only did she lose her mama, Georgia, but also was shunned by the other cows from that day forward. For some reason, the other cows have been incessant bullies to her, disallowing her to eat hay with them and of course never any grain. I took it upon myself to care for Jill in special ways. She is always allowed to dine separately in the barn, with lots of grooming and tender-loving-care while nibbling on her grain. She was so timid of Danny and me, perhaps because of the times during her fragile first week of life when we would kidnap her from the pasture and take her to the warm, cozy barnstall on the four-wheeler. However, she has come around and is like a pet to me. She is my only "mooer", and it's such a cute, weak moo. I can call and she will respond with her little bellow. Danny and I are not certain if she realizes the hard knocks of life she's been dealt, but we do, and with our soft hearts, we have a special place for our little Jilly.
I recall during the summer making the statement that Jill would bring a calf before our prize cow Daisy. Daisy is Caroline's, and has nursed for about the two years of her life. She has overgrown her mama and is so gentle, but Danny thought she would calve first with her maturity. In December, I started to notice that Jill's rearend was beginning to bulge and swell, and so was her milk bag. It took about four weeks for her to deliver from this point, with her rump swelling more each day. We had many bitter cold nights during that period of time so Danny and I locked Jill in the barn so she could have a warm place in case she went into labor. With her small size, we fretted that she would have difficulty delivering a calf.
January 10 was a warm night for us, in the 40s. We decided, unaware of the torrential downpours of rain that lied ahead, to leave her out for she was pretty restless in the barn on nights that weren't so cold. At sometime during the early morn, Jill delivered a big, healthy bull calf...with no problems! She did not go to the top of the mountain as Caroline does, but decided to have the calf in the safety of the barnyard. Her plan backfired. Somehow, her pretty newborn got through the fence and across the road in a completely different pasture! Unfortunately, Jill could not get to her little one and the rainfall took its toll on the calf. Jill was so distressed when I came to the barn that morning, knowing that she couldn't figure out how to get across the road.
I could tell things were not right while walking to the barn and hearing Jill mooing more than usual, but the main clue was our dog Jebo. Passing by a window getting dressed to feed, I had noticed Jebo in the lower pasture sitting very alert by something of which I could not discern. Once Jebo saw me and the other dogs, who were lounging on the porch, coming to the barn, he started barking and doing circles to get my attention. He would not let any other dogs come into the pasture. The closer I got, the bigger the knot in my stomach got. I suddenly realized what the brown lump was Jebo was guarding so fiercely.
I ran down to the calf and saw that he was still alive! Hope! I fell to my knees to check him over for wounds, seeing a few scratches but nothing major. Then I asked aloud, "Why does this keep happening to us?" I scooped the calf, about 70 pounds, and ran him to the barn. With the rain, the mud was horrible. I changed into my rubber boots because I had to wrangle Jill into the barn to see if the two could reunite. She was NOT wanting to go into the barn, but with much persistence, in the mud almost up to my knees, I got her in. Jebo was still in guard-mode, not letting any other dog into the barn. He was such an angel, licking the calf and cleaning him, and thus helping me get Jill interested in her calf.
Although Jill tried to revive the calf and encourage him to stand, he simply did not have the energy. I decided I should try to nurse him with a bottle and some calf starter I had on hand. I could get him to suck only a little, wary of the thought that I would have to continue this provision of nourishment if the calf survived, but still hoping Jill's baby would live. This ordeal began promptly at 8:00am. I dried the calf with towels, rubbed him continuously with my hands, positioned myself around him on the hay with Jebo cuddling on the other side, and tried to get him to take the nipple of the bottle. By 12:30, the calf took his last breath. It was amazing to see how his eyes were drawn to his mama, how he let out a big "moo" to her minutes before his passing. I felt privileged to be a witness to this act of nature while simultaneously bitter because it was yet another loss for Arnold Acres. The sting of the loss hurt worse because of my soft-spot for Jill and the longing for her to feel loved and needed.
I think I took the loss harder than Jill, perhaps because she is a cow. But I felt that I had failed her, that it was my sense of duty to protect both her and her newborn. I looked at the positive outcomes of the situation - that Jill was able to have a normal sized calf without difficulty, and that our bull produced normal cows. Remember, the last calf born by RedRock was a grossly abnormal stillborn while Jill's calf was a beautiful, normal bull. Jill hung out in the spot that she gave birth for a day or two, and eventually moved on, acting as if nothing ever happened. On the other hand, Danny and I loathed the fact that the little calf we should've seen running around the barnyard was buried up on the hill.
As usual, we regrouped from our loss and about four weeks later, on Monday, February 20, a little calf was finally born alive and well on Arnold Acres! Caroline, whom I had noticed was filling with milk and swelling in the back, gave birth to a heifer. When Caroline and Jill did not come to the barn for their morning rations, I suspected something was up. I hiked to the place where Caroline had Daisy, for I had seen Jill coming down a trail the cows usually did not travel upon. Sure enough, a little heifer was nursing away on Caroline. Remembering Caroline's protective sense of her newborns, I respectfully returned to the barn to finish feeding the horses. To Danny's dismay, I have been compelled to call the calf "Hillary"; I found it appropriate to call the little cow by that name since she was born on President's Day and we historically have our first female (heifer) vying for President in the 2008 election! Meanwhile, Danny's brother, Peter, who had visited for the weekend and unfortunately had lost his kids' yellow lab puppy that he had brought with him, was at the house making calls regarding the missing dog. I did not want to show the extreme joy I felt for finally having a success on the farm in respect of his despair, so I quietly made calls to Danny and my parents in our bedroom, but boy was I excited! Sadly Peter's dog was not found on Monday, but after alerting the neighborhood, the pup was returned to us on Tuesday morning by one of our friends. Two exciting and happy stories for Arnold Acres, a sign of brighter days!
By the way, back on July 31, the morning after a full moon, I walked into the barn a bit early to feed, around 7am. To my astonishment, there was a pig lying in the barn! I thought someone had played a practical joke, but after assessing the situation, I realized the pig was badly wounded. I concluded it had to be a mountain lion, for the right side of the pig was skinned. On his other side, he had parallel scratch marks about the depth of a 1/4 inch, leading me to believe it was a cat-like creature inflicting the wounds. I wrapped the injured animal in a towel to keep flies off. Miracously, the pig was not bleeding and drank water that I provided. The horses would not even enter the barn that morning, either smelling the pig or being spooked from its predator. I called Danny to tell him of my discovery and Big Dave overheard Danny's exclamation about a pig in the barn. Big Dave was aware that our neighbors' son on Elk River had lost a pig the day before, the same day that Danny's cousins who were visiting the family farm had casually mentioned sighting a pig swimming down the river. Somehow, this pig traveled the opposite direction, was severely attacked by a wild animal, and ended up in our barn. After learning the owners of the pig, I contacted them and the mother of the boy came to help me retrieve the pig. Five and one-half hours from the discovery, we had cornered the pig and I secured him in a bucket for his journey back home. Good riddance! I did NOT want to doctor this smelly creature. The ironic turn to this story is that Peter's puppy chose this family to come to at 4am on Tuesday morning! The father stated he heard the puppy crying on the porch early in the morning and from talking to us, identified it as the puppy we had lost. I guess "one good deed does deserve another"!
I recall during the summer making the statement that Jill would bring a calf before our prize cow Daisy. Daisy is Caroline's, and has nursed for about the two years of her life. She has overgrown her mama and is so gentle, but Danny thought she would calve first with her maturity. In December, I started to notice that Jill's rearend was beginning to bulge and swell, and so was her milk bag. It took about four weeks for her to deliver from this point, with her rump swelling more each day. We had many bitter cold nights during that period of time so Danny and I locked Jill in the barn so she could have a warm place in case she went into labor. With her small size, we fretted that she would have difficulty delivering a calf.
January 10 was a warm night for us, in the 40s. We decided, unaware of the torrential downpours of rain that lied ahead, to leave her out for she was pretty restless in the barn on nights that weren't so cold. At sometime during the early morn, Jill delivered a big, healthy bull calf...with no problems! She did not go to the top of the mountain as Caroline does, but decided to have the calf in the safety of the barnyard. Her plan backfired. Somehow, her pretty newborn got through the fence and across the road in a completely different pasture! Unfortunately, Jill could not get to her little one and the rainfall took its toll on the calf. Jill was so distressed when I came to the barn that morning, knowing that she couldn't figure out how to get across the road.
I could tell things were not right while walking to the barn and hearing Jill mooing more than usual, but the main clue was our dog Jebo. Passing by a window getting dressed to feed, I had noticed Jebo in the lower pasture sitting very alert by something of which I could not discern. Once Jebo saw me and the other dogs, who were lounging on the porch, coming to the barn, he started barking and doing circles to get my attention. He would not let any other dogs come into the pasture. The closer I got, the bigger the knot in my stomach got. I suddenly realized what the brown lump was Jebo was guarding so fiercely.
I ran down to the calf and saw that he was still alive! Hope! I fell to my knees to check him over for wounds, seeing a few scratches but nothing major. Then I asked aloud, "Why does this keep happening to us?" I scooped the calf, about 70 pounds, and ran him to the barn. With the rain, the mud was horrible. I changed into my rubber boots because I had to wrangle Jill into the barn to see if the two could reunite. She was NOT wanting to go into the barn, but with much persistence, in the mud almost up to my knees, I got her in. Jebo was still in guard-mode, not letting any other dog into the barn. He was such an angel, licking the calf and cleaning him, and thus helping me get Jill interested in her calf.
Although Jill tried to revive the calf and encourage him to stand, he simply did not have the energy. I decided I should try to nurse him with a bottle and some calf starter I had on hand. I could get him to suck only a little, wary of the thought that I would have to continue this provision of nourishment if the calf survived, but still hoping Jill's baby would live. This ordeal began promptly at 8:00am. I dried the calf with towels, rubbed him continuously with my hands, positioned myself around him on the hay with Jebo cuddling on the other side, and tried to get him to take the nipple of the bottle. By 12:30, the calf took his last breath. It was amazing to see how his eyes were drawn to his mama, how he let out a big "moo" to her minutes before his passing. I felt privileged to be a witness to this act of nature while simultaneously bitter because it was yet another loss for Arnold Acres. The sting of the loss hurt worse because of my soft-spot for Jill and the longing for her to feel loved and needed.
I think I took the loss harder than Jill, perhaps because she is a cow. But I felt that I had failed her, that it was my sense of duty to protect both her and her newborn. I looked at the positive outcomes of the situation - that Jill was able to have a normal sized calf without difficulty, and that our bull produced normal cows. Remember, the last calf born by RedRock was a grossly abnormal stillborn while Jill's calf was a beautiful, normal bull. Jill hung out in the spot that she gave birth for a day or two, and eventually moved on, acting as if nothing ever happened. On the other hand, Danny and I loathed the fact that the little calf we should've seen running around the barnyard was buried up on the hill.
As usual, we regrouped from our loss and about four weeks later, on Monday, February 20, a little calf was finally born alive and well on Arnold Acres! Caroline, whom I had noticed was filling with milk and swelling in the back, gave birth to a heifer. When Caroline and Jill did not come to the barn for their morning rations, I suspected something was up. I hiked to the place where Caroline had Daisy, for I had seen Jill coming down a trail the cows usually did not travel upon. Sure enough, a little heifer was nursing away on Caroline. Remembering Caroline's protective sense of her newborns, I respectfully returned to the barn to finish feeding the horses. To Danny's dismay, I have been compelled to call the calf "Hillary"; I found it appropriate to call the little cow by that name since she was born on President's Day and we historically have our first female (heifer) vying for President in the 2008 election! Meanwhile, Danny's brother, Peter, who had visited for the weekend and unfortunately had lost his kids' yellow lab puppy that he had brought with him, was at the house making calls regarding the missing dog. I did not want to show the extreme joy I felt for finally having a success on the farm in respect of his despair, so I quietly made calls to Danny and my parents in our bedroom, but boy was I excited! Sadly Peter's dog was not found on Monday, but after alerting the neighborhood, the pup was returned to us on Tuesday morning by one of our friends. Two exciting and happy stories for Arnold Acres, a sign of brighter days!
By the way, back on July 31, the morning after a full moon, I walked into the barn a bit early to feed, around 7am. To my astonishment, there was a pig lying in the barn! I thought someone had played a practical joke, but after assessing the situation, I realized the pig was badly wounded. I concluded it had to be a mountain lion, for the right side of the pig was skinned. On his other side, he had parallel scratch marks about the depth of a 1/4 inch, leading me to believe it was a cat-like creature inflicting the wounds. I wrapped the injured animal in a towel to keep flies off. Miracously, the pig was not bleeding and drank water that I provided. The horses would not even enter the barn that morning, either smelling the pig or being spooked from its predator. I called Danny to tell him of my discovery and Big Dave overheard Danny's exclamation about a pig in the barn. Big Dave was aware that our neighbors' son on Elk River had lost a pig the day before, the same day that Danny's cousins who were visiting the family farm had casually mentioned sighting a pig swimming down the river. Somehow, this pig traveled the opposite direction, was severely attacked by a wild animal, and ended up in our barn. After learning the owners of the pig, I contacted them and the mother of the boy came to help me retrieve the pig. Five and one-half hours from the discovery, we had cornered the pig and I secured him in a bucket for his journey back home. Good riddance! I did NOT want to doctor this smelly creature. The ironic turn to this story is that Peter's puppy chose this family to come to at 4am on Tuesday morning! The father stated he heard the puppy crying on the porch early in the morning and from talking to us, identified it as the puppy we had lost. I guess "one good deed does deserve another"!
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
The Geldings
We had our first ride on the new horses on March 5, 2007, allowing them a month to acclimate to their new home. Worth, of course, was with us on Crazy Alice; our friend Mike joined along on Sunday. It was a chilly day with a blustery wind and we decided to ride into Tennessee. After a frisky start in our pasture, the horses settled down as we crossed over Buck Mountain. The day was perfect to test their demeanor, which proved to be satisfactory. The trail goes along some pretty high ridges where the wind is always worse, but the horses handled themselves quite well.
After our first ride, Danny decided to call his horse “Cadillac” because he was such a smooth ride. (I can’t help but call him “Punkin” because of his over-sized head and orangish color.) It took me a while to settle on “Dooly” for mine, representing the county in Georgia from which I came.
A perk to my new job is that I am always home when Danny has a rare day off. He had been wanting to go to an equipment sale in Tennessee and decided to do so on March 8. Worth and I decided we would enjoy the blue sky and go for one of our solo rides, usually discussing some of our struggles in life. We went again on the same trail to Tennessee and had a splendid time. A few days and rides later, I decided to enjoy yet another amazing blue sky and take Dooly for a short ride. On March 13, I experienced my first horse wreck!
Mac, the horse trader, had his farmhands ride Dooly several times prior to when we picked the horses up to bring home. He reported that he liked to “kick out” when starting to lope. I asked Danny what that meant, and he said that he probably liked to buck a little and resist the run. I more clearly understood the term that day! We were on our way back from a pleasant ride when Dooly illustrated his lovely habit. I was trying to make him walk up the road to his barn mates, but he had another idea in mind. We were rounding the first uphill curve when he simultaneously kicked out his back legs, therefore tossing me into the ditch. I thought I fell off because the saddle was loose, so I tightened it and remounted. Four more steps uphill and he started to run again, and kick out again. I jerked the left rein hard, trying to cut him to the left. His response to that maneuver was not to stop but to twist his body as he kicked his back legs. The twisting motion in conjunction with the kicking resulted in a catapult toss of me over his head onto our freshly scraped gravel road. My fall was broken by my face and right forearm. When I came to my senses, I realized Dooly had fled uphill to the barn, leaving me a nice walk home. It was one of the first times I walked our road without having to stop for breath. I was furious, stomping most of the way, arriving to see him standing at the barn gate. I gave him a few slaps of the reins, but not many for I was uncertain if he realized why I was punishing him. I tied him to a tree with his saddle still on as I cleaned myself up and tended to my scratches.
The soreness and bruises set in within hours. After work, Worth came by to check on me after hearing the news of my first crash. With a giggle, he said I’d be okay. My ribs were very bruised for a couple weeks, diminishing a few of my chores with my limited mobility. Luckily, I happened to have purple eyeshadow to make my eyes match making my bruise less noticeable. The road rash on my face faded quickly but the pain in my right hand took time to subside.
I confessed to one person, my brother, about my accident, trying to keep it from my mother who tends to worry more than necessary about me. She discovered my secret on Easter Sunday. While eating a fine brotherhood breakfast at the sunrise service, a friend of the family who has horses came up to me exclaiming that my face sure did heal well after she’d heard it took the brunt of my horse wreck! My mom was not very pleased with her little girl. News apparently travels through cotton fields as quickly as it does down Elk River!
A couple weeks after the wreck, I felt up to riding again. We were going back on the same trail yet again, when Dooly kicked me all the way up our pasture. All the guys got a good laugh as I held on with all my might. After a few more kicks, I traded horses with Danny so he could teach Dooly some manners. I started riding him again a couple months later, so far so good. I still see his legs kick out when he’s sprinting across the pasture, but I am determined to break him of the habit one day.
After our first ride, Danny decided to call his horse “Cadillac” because he was such a smooth ride. (I can’t help but call him “Punkin” because of his over-sized head and orangish color.) It took me a while to settle on “Dooly” for mine, representing the county in Georgia from which I came.
A perk to my new job is that I am always home when Danny has a rare day off. He had been wanting to go to an equipment sale in Tennessee and decided to do so on March 8. Worth and I decided we would enjoy the blue sky and go for one of our solo rides, usually discussing some of our struggles in life. We went again on the same trail to Tennessee and had a splendid time. A few days and rides later, I decided to enjoy yet another amazing blue sky and take Dooly for a short ride. On March 13, I experienced my first horse wreck!
Mac, the horse trader, had his farmhands ride Dooly several times prior to when we picked the horses up to bring home. He reported that he liked to “kick out” when starting to lope. I asked Danny what that meant, and he said that he probably liked to buck a little and resist the run. I more clearly understood the term that day! We were on our way back from a pleasant ride when Dooly illustrated his lovely habit. I was trying to make him walk up the road to his barn mates, but he had another idea in mind. We were rounding the first uphill curve when he simultaneously kicked out his back legs, therefore tossing me into the ditch. I thought I fell off because the saddle was loose, so I tightened it and remounted. Four more steps uphill and he started to run again, and kick out again. I jerked the left rein hard, trying to cut him to the left. His response to that maneuver was not to stop but to twist his body as he kicked his back legs. The twisting motion in conjunction with the kicking resulted in a catapult toss of me over his head onto our freshly scraped gravel road. My fall was broken by my face and right forearm. When I came to my senses, I realized Dooly had fled uphill to the barn, leaving me a nice walk home. It was one of the first times I walked our road without having to stop for breath. I was furious, stomping most of the way, arriving to see him standing at the barn gate. I gave him a few slaps of the reins, but not many for I was uncertain if he realized why I was punishing him. I tied him to a tree with his saddle still on as I cleaned myself up and tended to my scratches.
The soreness and bruises set in within hours. After work, Worth came by to check on me after hearing the news of my first crash. With a giggle, he said I’d be okay. My ribs were very bruised for a couple weeks, diminishing a few of my chores with my limited mobility. Luckily, I happened to have purple eyeshadow to make my eyes match making my bruise less noticeable. The road rash on my face faded quickly but the pain in my right hand took time to subside.
I confessed to one person, my brother, about my accident, trying to keep it from my mother who tends to worry more than necessary about me. She discovered my secret on Easter Sunday. While eating a fine brotherhood breakfast at the sunrise service, a friend of the family who has horses came up to me exclaiming that my face sure did heal well after she’d heard it took the brunt of my horse wreck! My mom was not very pleased with her little girl. News apparently travels through cotton fields as quickly as it does down Elk River!
A couple weeks after the wreck, I felt up to riding again. We were going back on the same trail yet again, when Dooly kicked me all the way up our pasture. All the guys got a good laugh as I held on with all my might. After a few more kicks, I traded horses with Danny so he could teach Dooly some manners. I started riding him again a couple months later, so far so good. I still see his legs kick out when he’s sprinting across the pasture, but I am determined to break him of the habit one day.
Transitions
It has been close to a year since my last entry regarding the progress, or lack thereof, of our livestock. In February 2007, I left my job as Case Manager to stay at home and tend to the farm. While I was nervous about the financial adjustment we would have to make without my small yet consistent income, I was so excited for my new and more fitting role in life. I would have the opportunity to tend to our home, our marriage, and our farm. I felt a sense of pride to help ease some of the chores Danny was sharing with me and make his life easier.
Another milestone in February was the arrival of our two new horses! Sunday stayed in the barn for most of the months of December and January. She was lonely and had no desire to graze about, even in the sunshine. While it was sad to see her constant grief, it was good for her physically because she gained much needed weight. In late January, Danny and I went to a horse barn in Tennessee, recommended by our friend Jamie, to see what was for sale. The price of horses was down so we felt we should take advantage of it and purchase a new horse. We decided to get a gelding to have temperament nicer than the mares to which we were accustomed. I wanted a young horse with lots of physical stamina, for I love to run while riding.
After looking at each horse, I came across a 4-year old, registered quarter horse gelding. The farmhands would get the horses of interest out and ride each in the round pen, as well as allowing Danny and me to have a test ride. The stalls at this barn were tall and dark and the horse had been in his stall for a couple weeks, so we were quite impressed at the calmness when he was brought out and saddled. He never budged! Shadow would have been crazy coming out of a dark stall! He was dark red, never my favorite color, with two white stockings on his hind legs. He was muscular and built much like Shadow; his mane even fell to the left side, just as hers did. I rode him in the round pen and realized that this was the first time I had ridden a horse that Danny did not know the history of prior to my mounting. We decided he would be a good choice, for he fit all the criteria I had listed, although it didn’t matter to me whether the horse was registered or not.
Meanwhile, Danny was attracted to a big bay gelding, with a body build similar to Sunday’s. He had high withers and a long body, but a big head. His mane and forelocks had been clipped implying that he was a pretty calm horse. We never even got him out for the test ride! About ten years old, we decided perhaps having two younger horses would be a good idea so we could save Sunday for special rides. The horse trader, Mac, cut us a deal on buying two horses and we arranged to pick them up in the following week or two.
On February 4, 2007, we brought home the two new members of the family, much to Sunday’s joy! It snowed that day and with our two-wheel drive truck, we were forced to walk the horses up our road to their new home. Seeing my new horse against the white snow made me realize how beautiful of a red color he was, actually matching the color of our barn and fence. Sunday seemed to enjoy her own transition from living with mares to having a couple guys she could boss around. Soon after their arrival, she was grazing again and running through the pasture, full of life. It was exciting to see her spirit rejuvenated and to imagine all the rides that we had before us.
The timing of my conversion from case manager to farm girl was perfect, for Caroline was due to have her second calf in early spring. As usual, in addition to the morning and evening feedings, I had been hiking each day to the top corner of the property to check on Caroline during the day and ensure that she was not having any calving problems. On Wednesday morning, March 28, 2007, the cows were not at the barn, an absolute sign that something was going on. I quickly fed the horses and then headed up the trail to check on my mean mama. Of course, Caroline had chosen one of the highest points on the property. It was around 8:30am when I arrived at the top to see Caroline going into labor. She was sitting down and standing up repeatedly. In order to keep her attention off me, I hid, with Scout, in a thicket of briars to watch the birth. I whispered to Scout that we would finally have something exciting and happy to write about in my livestock story! A bonus to my story would be that in the stillness of the morn, we saw a big buck run through the trees and over the fence, an oddity since we rarely see wildlife. After 45 minutes of shivering in the briar patch and anticipating the arrival of the new little one, Caroline gave birth.
I immediately realized something was peculiar about the calf. Even from a distance, I could tell it was unusually small. Caroline licked and cleaned this calf, constantly nudging it and trying to make it stand up. I watched in reverence of Caroline’s basic instincts with her newborn. My stubborn mind would not allow my heart to succumb to the feeling that she would not be able to rouse this little one. Following the course of nature, Caroline expelled and cleaned her afterbirth. Once the placenta and birth site was cleaned, Caroline tried once more, but unsuccessfully, to revive her calf. After her last attempt, she turned her back on her dead calf and headed to the barn, never again looking back.
I joined the herd on their journey down to the barn, feeding them grain and hay as usual. When Caroline was occupied with her food, I got an empty feed sack from the barn and hiked back up to the stillborn calf. I didn’t want any dogs or other creatures, especially the cows, associating with this dead animal.
I was amazed at what I saw when I went to collect the calf. It was a creature like I had never seen, severely deformed and underdeveloped. I could determine that the calf would have been a heifer, but what a bovine disaster this was! She had legs only eight inches long, a nose that never developed, and a protruding lower jaw that enabled her underdeveloped snout to collapse into, making the calf look similar to a pit-bull puppy. I was so angry that this could happen. How could it happen, after Caroline had a first-born as beautiful as Daisy? We were finally supposed to have a happy story! I cried and screamed and stomped around, then conceded to placing the tiny calf into the feed sack for Danny to see when he arrived home.
Caroline coped just fine, showing confusion for only one day and quickly returning to her mean self! There was no transitioning for the cows, remaining a herd of four. Danny and I took the loss sadly, wondering if we could have done something to prevent the deformity, if our bull was not the stud we thought him to be, etc. I had the theory that Caroline’s fast dashes down the mountain to come eat played a significant part in the calf’s development; Danny had the theory that Daisy’s incessant, and RedRock’s at times, nursing contributed to the immaturity. Another incident to draw Danny and me closer, we leaned on each other and grew together from the experience, crediting occasional bad luck in the cow business and the cruel act of nature as the reasoning for the incident.
Another milestone in February was the arrival of our two new horses! Sunday stayed in the barn for most of the months of December and January. She was lonely and had no desire to graze about, even in the sunshine. While it was sad to see her constant grief, it was good for her physically because she gained much needed weight. In late January, Danny and I went to a horse barn in Tennessee, recommended by our friend Jamie, to see what was for sale. The price of horses was down so we felt we should take advantage of it and purchase a new horse. We decided to get a gelding to have temperament nicer than the mares to which we were accustomed. I wanted a young horse with lots of physical stamina, for I love to run while riding.
After looking at each horse, I came across a 4-year old, registered quarter horse gelding. The farmhands would get the horses of interest out and ride each in the round pen, as well as allowing Danny and me to have a test ride. The stalls at this barn were tall and dark and the horse had been in his stall for a couple weeks, so we were quite impressed at the calmness when he was brought out and saddled. He never budged! Shadow would have been crazy coming out of a dark stall! He was dark red, never my favorite color, with two white stockings on his hind legs. He was muscular and built much like Shadow; his mane even fell to the left side, just as hers did. I rode him in the round pen and realized that this was the first time I had ridden a horse that Danny did not know the history of prior to my mounting. We decided he would be a good choice, for he fit all the criteria I had listed, although it didn’t matter to me whether the horse was registered or not.
Meanwhile, Danny was attracted to a big bay gelding, with a body build similar to Sunday’s. He had high withers and a long body, but a big head. His mane and forelocks had been clipped implying that he was a pretty calm horse. We never even got him out for the test ride! About ten years old, we decided perhaps having two younger horses would be a good idea so we could save Sunday for special rides. The horse trader, Mac, cut us a deal on buying two horses and we arranged to pick them up in the following week or two.
On February 4, 2007, we brought home the two new members of the family, much to Sunday’s joy! It snowed that day and with our two-wheel drive truck, we were forced to walk the horses up our road to their new home. Seeing my new horse against the white snow made me realize how beautiful of a red color he was, actually matching the color of our barn and fence. Sunday seemed to enjoy her own transition from living with mares to having a couple guys she could boss around. Soon after their arrival, she was grazing again and running through the pasture, full of life. It was exciting to see her spirit rejuvenated and to imagine all the rides that we had before us.
The timing of my conversion from case manager to farm girl was perfect, for Caroline was due to have her second calf in early spring. As usual, in addition to the morning and evening feedings, I had been hiking each day to the top corner of the property to check on Caroline during the day and ensure that she was not having any calving problems. On Wednesday morning, March 28, 2007, the cows were not at the barn, an absolute sign that something was going on. I quickly fed the horses and then headed up the trail to check on my mean mama. Of course, Caroline had chosen one of the highest points on the property. It was around 8:30am when I arrived at the top to see Caroline going into labor. She was sitting down and standing up repeatedly. In order to keep her attention off me, I hid, with Scout, in a thicket of briars to watch the birth. I whispered to Scout that we would finally have something exciting and happy to write about in my livestock story! A bonus to my story would be that in the stillness of the morn, we saw a big buck run through the trees and over the fence, an oddity since we rarely see wildlife. After 45 minutes of shivering in the briar patch and anticipating the arrival of the new little one, Caroline gave birth.
I immediately realized something was peculiar about the calf. Even from a distance, I could tell it was unusually small. Caroline licked and cleaned this calf, constantly nudging it and trying to make it stand up. I watched in reverence of Caroline’s basic instincts with her newborn. My stubborn mind would not allow my heart to succumb to the feeling that she would not be able to rouse this little one. Following the course of nature, Caroline expelled and cleaned her afterbirth. Once the placenta and birth site was cleaned, Caroline tried once more, but unsuccessfully, to revive her calf. After her last attempt, she turned her back on her dead calf and headed to the barn, never again looking back.
I joined the herd on their journey down to the barn, feeding them grain and hay as usual. When Caroline was occupied with her food, I got an empty feed sack from the barn and hiked back up to the stillborn calf. I didn’t want any dogs or other creatures, especially the cows, associating with this dead animal.
I was amazed at what I saw when I went to collect the calf. It was a creature like I had never seen, severely deformed and underdeveloped. I could determine that the calf would have been a heifer, but what a bovine disaster this was! She had legs only eight inches long, a nose that never developed, and a protruding lower jaw that enabled her underdeveloped snout to collapse into, making the calf look similar to a pit-bull puppy. I was so angry that this could happen. How could it happen, after Caroline had a first-born as beautiful as Daisy? We were finally supposed to have a happy story! I cried and screamed and stomped around, then conceded to placing the tiny calf into the feed sack for Danny to see when he arrived home.
Caroline coped just fine, showing confusion for only one day and quickly returning to her mean self! There was no transitioning for the cows, remaining a herd of four. Danny and I took the loss sadly, wondering if we could have done something to prevent the deformity, if our bull was not the stud we thought him to be, etc. I had the theory that Caroline’s fast dashes down the mountain to come eat played a significant part in the calf’s development; Danny had the theory that Daisy’s incessant, and RedRock’s at times, nursing contributed to the immaturity. Another incident to draw Danny and me closer, we leaned on each other and grew together from the experience, crediting occasional bad luck in the cow business and the cruel act of nature as the reasoning for the incident.
Adaptation
A lot of water has passed under the bridge since Georgia’s demise and Shadow’s tragic death. I hope these are the last stories I’m compelled to write for a while over the loss of my precious animals. But I’ve grown and learned from the experience with each animal, and each time the frailty of life has slapped me in my face.
I pass over Elk River every day to come home and I often think of how life is so much like a river. Some days the river is crystal clear and peacefully moving toward it’s destination; other days the river is raging, muddy, and out of control, yet still racing toward it’s final home. At times, the river has so much mist and fog around it that you can barely see it, yet you know it is still there and certain it is flowing to the same place as always. And again, at times, the river is so low from lack of rain that it seems to barely trickle down it’s path. The force of the water can make the course of the river change, moving rocks and trees to new locations. While we can control various aspects of our lives, it is still like a river. No one can control the velocity and ferociousness of the current when it is raging; we just have to wait for it to subside and return to normal. And no matter how long the fog or the rage lasts, we are certain that things will return to it’s homeostasis, the normal balance needed to survive. The norm may have been altered a bit because of the change in the course of direction, but the final destination is always the same. People and animals have come and gone throughout the span of the Earth, just as water continually flows over the same rocks that have been here for ages. Sometimes we just drift through life with things crystal clear and peaceful; sometimes we can’t see where we are going or handle how fast things seem to be moving, feeling battered by the rocks or the trees that are being moved from their comfortable spots. Other times we feel like we have suffered a drought and barely have enough energy to keep going, but we all know that the rain will come and make us normal again. We may have to deal with a new rock or tree in our space, but we adapt, just as the river keeps flowing.
So, my river has raged and trickled since September 7, and many times I have let the fog make me lose sight of it because of various reasons. I’ve had two big rocks in my basin quickly forced to their final destination, with holes remaining in the spaces they used to occupy. But I will adapt and continue flowing in my own existence, taking the memories of how quickly my comfortable and clear river raged and changed course at this time in my life, and anxious to see the future paths my river may take, certain it will always take me home.
I pass over Elk River every day to come home and I often think of how life is so much like a river. Some days the river is crystal clear and peacefully moving toward it’s destination; other days the river is raging, muddy, and out of control, yet still racing toward it’s final home. At times, the river has so much mist and fog around it that you can barely see it, yet you know it is still there and certain it is flowing to the same place as always. And again, at times, the river is so low from lack of rain that it seems to barely trickle down it’s path. The force of the water can make the course of the river change, moving rocks and trees to new locations. While we can control various aspects of our lives, it is still like a river. No one can control the velocity and ferociousness of the current when it is raging; we just have to wait for it to subside and return to normal. And no matter how long the fog or the rage lasts, we are certain that things will return to it’s homeostasis, the normal balance needed to survive. The norm may have been altered a bit because of the change in the course of direction, but the final destination is always the same. People and animals have come and gone throughout the span of the Earth, just as water continually flows over the same rocks that have been here for ages. Sometimes we just drift through life with things crystal clear and peaceful; sometimes we can’t see where we are going or handle how fast things seem to be moving, feeling battered by the rocks or the trees that are being moved from their comfortable spots. Other times we feel like we have suffered a drought and barely have enough energy to keep going, but we all know that the rain will come and make us normal again. We may have to deal with a new rock or tree in our space, but we adapt, just as the river keeps flowing.
So, my river has raged and trickled since September 7, and many times I have let the fog make me lose sight of it because of various reasons. I’ve had two big rocks in my basin quickly forced to their final destination, with holes remaining in the spaces they used to occupy. But I will adapt and continue flowing in my own existence, taking the memories of how quickly my comfortable and clear river raged and changed course at this time in my life, and anxious to see the future paths my river may take, certain it will always take me home.
The Mourning After
There was a sense of mourning by the other horses, especially Sunday, who hung her head low and now barely comes out of the barn. The barnyard is so quiet. There is no horse hanging her head out the window as I return home from work; there is no horse whinnying as my boots click up the road. Even Jebo, Worth’s dog that came from Scout’s one and only litter, seemed to mourn after my girl. When we brought her home to bury her, Jebo jumped up on the trailer and stayed by her side until we lowered her into her grave. Even after the last scoop of dirt, Jebo remained on her grave for over an hour. He had a unique sense and appreciation of the horse’s death that the other dogs did not demonstrate, and I thought that was pretty cool.
Shadow. If you look up the definition in a dictionary, you’ll find “inseparable companion”, along with “protection” as well as “foreshadowing”. Each term is fitting to the personality of this precious horse. She was her mother’s inseparable companion and protector. I’ve heard people say that perhaps she was killed to prevent a future accident with me or someone else, indicating the foreshadowing aspect of her name. Only the Lord knows why she was taken so harshly from me. I just thank Him for the opportunity to have a few hours alone with her a few days before her death, and the urge He gave to me to kiss her and love her one more time the last night I saw her. He knew eight years ago when Danny said that “she may be a good little horse for Rhonda one day” that she would inevitably break my heart. I don’t know what makes one a cowgirl…staying on during a ride like the last one she gave me, or just having your heart broken over a horse. I wonder if I’m worthy of that white cowgirl suit with white leather boots now.
It’s the bright, blue-skied days that make me miss her the most. The days where I long to be on her back exploring the beauty of the area in which I live. The days where I look out to the pasture to see her grazing, keeping an eye on me at the house. The void of her absence fills my heart and it is so hard to shake. We plan to get other horses, but she was my first love and can never be matched or replaced. I will cherish my time and memories with her, for that is all I have left. And although the pain of losing her is still immense, I know time will make it better. I would rather deal with this heartache than to never have had the chance to love and be loved by her. We were friends, dependent upon each other for many reasons. She was a gift to me I am so very thankful for, a precious part of my life that I will carry through my journey to the end.
Shadow. If you look up the definition in a dictionary, you’ll find “inseparable companion”, along with “protection” as well as “foreshadowing”. Each term is fitting to the personality of this precious horse. She was her mother’s inseparable companion and protector. I’ve heard people say that perhaps she was killed to prevent a future accident with me or someone else, indicating the foreshadowing aspect of her name. Only the Lord knows why she was taken so harshly from me. I just thank Him for the opportunity to have a few hours alone with her a few days before her death, and the urge He gave to me to kiss her and love her one more time the last night I saw her. He knew eight years ago when Danny said that “she may be a good little horse for Rhonda one day” that she would inevitably break my heart. I don’t know what makes one a cowgirl…staying on during a ride like the last one she gave me, or just having your heart broken over a horse. I wonder if I’m worthy of that white cowgirl suit with white leather boots now.
It’s the bright, blue-skied days that make me miss her the most. The days where I long to be on her back exploring the beauty of the area in which I live. The days where I look out to the pasture to see her grazing, keeping an eye on me at the house. The void of her absence fills my heart and it is so hard to shake. We plan to get other horses, but she was my first love and can never be matched or replaced. I will cherish my time and memories with her, for that is all I have left. And although the pain of losing her is still immense, I know time will make it better. I would rather deal with this heartache than to never have had the chance to love and be loved by her. We were friends, dependent upon each other for many reasons. She was a gift to me I am so very thankful for, a precious part of my life that I will carry through my journey to the end.
The Moon
I was quite sore on Monday from my expedition with Shadow, telling people at work about my exciting ride. I always felt like a little girl when I talked about my horse, perhaps because the little girl who asked for a white cowgirl suit with white leather boots each Christmas is still inside. That evening, as I was feeding, I stood with Shadow for a while in the barn. I stroked her mane and kissed her nose as usual, and told her how pretty she was, especially her strong legs. As I was walking out, I turned back to look at all the animals and Shadow was looking at me. I walked back in and climbed over the gate to give her one more kiss and hug, and to tell her once again how much I loved her. Then I walked home with the joy and comfort in my heart that she and the other animals bring me.
When I came in the house, I added a few logs to the fire because it was one of the most frigid weeks we’d had since spring. I noticed the moon rising over the trees along the ridge behind the barn. I was pulled to the presence of the moon, feeling a sense of awe at the size and brightness of the object. When Danny came in from work, I asked him if he’d seen the moon. Of course he had, it was hard to notice that evening. We discussed how weird things happen on full moons, with both people and animals. The next morning, as I followed my routine in feeding the cats and stoking the fire, I commented to Bo and Luke how bright the moon was shining into the kitchen. Quickly after, the eerie feeling the moon had brought me the night before began to make sense to me.
The phone rang around 6:45am. We assumed it was one of Danny’s guys calling about work. How I wish it was, but instead it was the dispatcher’s office calling to tell us that one of our horses had been killed on Buck Mountain Road. No, that couldn’t be right, not our horses. Our horses are in the barn, as usual, waiting on their grain. I ran half-dressed, as I was getting ready for work, to the barn only to find that it was empty, and my stomach immediately tied itself into a knot. Danny could tell by the look on my face that they were not in their usual spots. We decided that I would go on to identify the horse while he finished feeding the other animals. On the way, our friend Dave called me to let me know that it was Shadow that was killed, although I knew in my heart and gut all along that it would be my dear horse. I started imagining the worst possible scenario so the reality wouldn’t shock me as bad. It didn’t help, because I physically felt my heart break when I saw my horse lying on the side of the road, lifeless and broken.
It was the first time I’d ever seen her lie down because she was always so alert and frisky. She was full of life and spirit, and a Chevrolet truck had taken it away in just a matter of seconds. All the dreams I had with this horse quickly vanished, as I ran to the ditch to do nothing other than just sit next to her and pet her nose and cry over the loss of my first horse. Friends quickly arrived to help us handle the situation, leading the other horses home and providing the necessary equipment to load her on a trailer and take my baby home. Apparently, all four horses had gone up to the corner ridge of the property, a place they only traveled to if we were on their backs. Whomever went through the gate last, probably on a four-wheeler, had left it open. The horses made their way down the mountain out on the road, where the accident occurred. Why they were there will remain a mystery, although I speculate something wild spooked the horses and made them run up the mountain and off our property. The horses had not been out in over two years, so I see no reason as to why they were that morning, unless something forced them to do so.
Regardless of the reason, Shadow was hit by a young man we hear was late for work and didn’t bother to allow his windshield to thaw. Danny and I had talked the next day after my ride about putting Shadow and the little colt we had off another mare in the lower pasture across the road. Shadow took up time with this little guy, “showing him the ropes”. He adored her, so we felt they’d be good in a separate pasture while he was weaned off his mother. We decided we would do it the upcoming weekend when we had more time. Just two days after deciding to put Shadow in the lower pasture, we did just that, except it was without her little buddy, the colt that had grown to adore her. We laid her to rest in the lower pasture on December 5 around noon. Ironically, it was the same hole we had dug for our cow, Georgia, which mysteriously died in September. We did not bury her because we opted to have an autopsy done to determine her cause of death. But, in my heart, both of my precious animals will always be remembered in that spot.
When I came in the house, I added a few logs to the fire because it was one of the most frigid weeks we’d had since spring. I noticed the moon rising over the trees along the ridge behind the barn. I was pulled to the presence of the moon, feeling a sense of awe at the size and brightness of the object. When Danny came in from work, I asked him if he’d seen the moon. Of course he had, it was hard to notice that evening. We discussed how weird things happen on full moons, with both people and animals. The next morning, as I followed my routine in feeding the cats and stoking the fire, I commented to Bo and Luke how bright the moon was shining into the kitchen. Quickly after, the eerie feeling the moon had brought me the night before began to make sense to me.
The phone rang around 6:45am. We assumed it was one of Danny’s guys calling about work. How I wish it was, but instead it was the dispatcher’s office calling to tell us that one of our horses had been killed on Buck Mountain Road. No, that couldn’t be right, not our horses. Our horses are in the barn, as usual, waiting on their grain. I ran half-dressed, as I was getting ready for work, to the barn only to find that it was empty, and my stomach immediately tied itself into a knot. Danny could tell by the look on my face that they were not in their usual spots. We decided that I would go on to identify the horse while he finished feeding the other animals. On the way, our friend Dave called me to let me know that it was Shadow that was killed, although I knew in my heart and gut all along that it would be my dear horse. I started imagining the worst possible scenario so the reality wouldn’t shock me as bad. It didn’t help, because I physically felt my heart break when I saw my horse lying on the side of the road, lifeless and broken.
It was the first time I’d ever seen her lie down because she was always so alert and frisky. She was full of life and spirit, and a Chevrolet truck had taken it away in just a matter of seconds. All the dreams I had with this horse quickly vanished, as I ran to the ditch to do nothing other than just sit next to her and pet her nose and cry over the loss of my first horse. Friends quickly arrived to help us handle the situation, leading the other horses home and providing the necessary equipment to load her on a trailer and take my baby home. Apparently, all four horses had gone up to the corner ridge of the property, a place they only traveled to if we were on their backs. Whomever went through the gate last, probably on a four-wheeler, had left it open. The horses made their way down the mountain out on the road, where the accident occurred. Why they were there will remain a mystery, although I speculate something wild spooked the horses and made them run up the mountain and off our property. The horses had not been out in over two years, so I see no reason as to why they were that morning, unless something forced them to do so.
Regardless of the reason, Shadow was hit by a young man we hear was late for work and didn’t bother to allow his windshield to thaw. Danny and I had talked the next day after my ride about putting Shadow and the little colt we had off another mare in the lower pasture across the road. Shadow took up time with this little guy, “showing him the ropes”. He adored her, so we felt they’d be good in a separate pasture while he was weaned off his mother. We decided we would do it the upcoming weekend when we had more time. Just two days after deciding to put Shadow in the lower pasture, we did just that, except it was without her little buddy, the colt that had grown to adore her. We laid her to rest in the lower pasture on December 5 around noon. Ironically, it was the same hole we had dug for our cow, Georgia, which mysteriously died in September. We did not bury her because we opted to have an autopsy done to determine her cause of death. But, in my heart, both of my precious animals will always be remembered in that spot.
Our Last Ride
I have several pictures and lots of memories of various rides with Shadow. However, I took my first ride alone with her on a warm December day in 2006. It was a Saturday that Danny had things he needed to do that didn’t require my help. The sky was an intense blue and I was itching to ride. Danny and I felt it was time that I take Shadow out alone, since she and I seemed to do okay together. I liked the idea, because I hated having to rely on others joining me to ride. Shadow seemed content with the idea as well, and the two of us went off on our first, and last, ride together.
She was a bit stubborn at times, but no more than I was. We rode the trails around our and the Fowler property. I talked her ears off during the entire ride. We talked about trusting each other and the future we had ahead of us. I told her how I couldn’t believe that I finally had a horse and was riding her so frequently. She was everything I’d ever dreamt of having and I loved her dearly. I loved stroking her mane and kissing her nose in the evening when I fed. She was full of life and spirit, and she was a sparkle in my eye.
I am probably to blame for getting her excited, but we began running toward the end of our trip on that last ride. We were going to go, I thought, down by the river below the cabin. When Shadow recognized the power lines that passed through her pasture, she had different plans. Shadow had this habit of raring up and doing a half-circle spin to direct you the way she wanted to go. After three times of that, I’d had enough. Plus, she’s a lot stronger than I am, and I didn’t think I could overpower her. I’ve never claimed to be a tough cowgirl, I just love horses. I dismounted just before I punched her in her nose and walked her to the cabin, tying her up while we discussed a few things. I immensely apologized several times for the punch, and I believe she forgave me quickly. After speaking with Danny on my cell phone, Worth rode his little Filly, Alice, over to the cabin to ride with me home. Shadow showed off on the steep upward trail home…pushing and driving up the hill with no problem, while Alice stumbled behind. I was amazed at the strength and stamina of this horse, bragging on her the next day to Danny. Worth eventually made it to the top and decided to take one of the steeper trails home. Alice began trotting down the path, gradually increasing speed. Shadow took off after. Remember, she was not fond of going down steep hills, and showed her disgust by bucking down the hill. I’m not so sure how I held on; I thought most of the way down that I was going to get tossed, preparing myself for the fall. My feet came out of the stirrups near the beginning, never to return. Shadow, bucking and jumping down the trail, sped after Alice, who kept gaining speed. I kept yelling to Shadow to slow down, but she was frenzied and paid no attention to me. During my fretting and preparation to break my fall, I saw Worth fly through the air with his head landing next to a boulder. I commented that his amazing guardian angel had spared him yet again. When we arrived next to Worth, I came to my senses and realized that I had lost my left contact, my right
glove, and my cell phone clip had been broken, while in the front upper pocket of my jacket. What a ride it was…one I will never forget.
She was a bit stubborn at times, but no more than I was. We rode the trails around our and the Fowler property. I talked her ears off during the entire ride. We talked about trusting each other and the future we had ahead of us. I told her how I couldn’t believe that I finally had a horse and was riding her so frequently. She was everything I’d ever dreamt of having and I loved her dearly. I loved stroking her mane and kissing her nose in the evening when I fed. She was full of life and spirit, and she was a sparkle in my eye.
I am probably to blame for getting her excited, but we began running toward the end of our trip on that last ride. We were going to go, I thought, down by the river below the cabin. When Shadow recognized the power lines that passed through her pasture, she had different plans. Shadow had this habit of raring up and doing a half-circle spin to direct you the way she wanted to go. After three times of that, I’d had enough. Plus, she’s a lot stronger than I am, and I didn’t think I could overpower her. I’ve never claimed to be a tough cowgirl, I just love horses. I dismounted just before I punched her in her nose and walked her to the cabin, tying her up while we discussed a few things. I immensely apologized several times for the punch, and I believe she forgave me quickly. After speaking with Danny on my cell phone, Worth rode his little Filly, Alice, over to the cabin to ride with me home. Shadow showed off on the steep upward trail home…pushing and driving up the hill with no problem, while Alice stumbled behind. I was amazed at the strength and stamina of this horse, bragging on her the next day to Danny. Worth eventually made it to the top and decided to take one of the steeper trails home. Alice began trotting down the path, gradually increasing speed. Shadow took off after. Remember, she was not fond of going down steep hills, and showed her disgust by bucking down the hill. I’m not so sure how I held on; I thought most of the way down that I was going to get tossed, preparing myself for the fall. My feet came out of the stirrups near the beginning, never to return. Shadow, bucking and jumping down the trail, sped after Alice, who kept gaining speed. I kept yelling to Shadow to slow down, but she was frenzied and paid no attention to me. During my fretting and preparation to break my fall, I saw Worth fly through the air with his head landing next to a boulder. I commented that his amazing guardian angel had spared him yet again. When we arrived next to Worth, I came to my senses and realized that I had lost my left contact, my right
glove, and my cell phone clip had been broken, while in the front upper pocket of my jacket. What a ride it was…one I will never forget.
Bonding
I don’t recall when I felt the bond occur between Shadow and me. With my inexperience around horses, I remember being quite skeptical of this horse after seeing her behavior with Danny. However, after feeding and spending time daily with Shadow, we became fast friends. Her routine began to depend on mine; she learned my behaviors as cautiously as I learned hers. Our relationship was reciprocal in many ways. She depended on me for sustenance and I even believe affection. I loved to hug her neck and kiss her soft nose, and she didn’t seem to mind. She had trust that I would be there each day, as I had trust that she would not kill me when I rode her.
Shadow developed into a beauty. She was sleek, shiny, and built like a rock; no hill proved too tough for her to climb, although those who rode her knew that she preferred going up much better than down. Her chest bulged and her rump was perfectly round. I used to tell her in the barn that she was so beautiful she could be a model on a horse calendar!
Her personality developed as well. She was the horse that would pick her head up upon hearing my voice…the horse waiting with her head out of the barn as I returned home from work in the evening. Shadow always heard my boots clicking down the road, often accompanying the noise with an anticipatory whinny of being fed the much-loved sweet feed. If her mother was not with her, since she was older and took longer to come to the barn after being called for supper, Shadow exemplified the sense of protection from her name. She would refuse to eat until she went to get her mother and bring her to the barn. Shadow would come to my call to let me know she was aware, but would run off to escort her mother in for the meal.
At times, Danny and I would get really frustrated with Shadow and the way she would ride. She was unpredictable and moody, but for the most part, she didn’t mind me riding her. She seemed to prefer me over others, probably because I was so gentle and submissive with her, or maybe I imagined that she preferred me. I don’t think Shadow like to be handled roughly, and I tried to respect that. Everyone said I was too gentle with her. I studied this horse to determine her peculiarities, trying to heed to her unspoken requests, while respecting and trusting her. I learned little quirky things about her, like certain things she was skeptical of and noises or sights that would scare her. She hated to be near the road, and the sound of Velcro on my saddlebags would startle her each time, probably due to her exceptional sense of hearing. She was afraid of tire marks on the road, and she abhorred running or walking on a steep downhill grade. She preferred to follow other horses, and I learned with a nice scar on my forearm that she didn’t like blazing a trail. While not necessarily a good thing, Shadow was always concerned about other horses, having to devote her attention to them when riding or hanging out. She had a nurturing sense about her, to take care of those in her presence.
I began riding Shadow in the summer of 2005, just merely eighteen months before her death. While she made others nervous, I only felt scared on her once or twice. Her rides were thrilling, but she never did anything to hurt me. I think Shadow was a bit scared at times, too, because I recall several instances where I would feel her shake under the saddle. I always tried to comfort her and encourage her to trust me. I reminded her of how I loved her and would never let anything hurt her.
With our busy schedules, we don’t ride as often as I’d like. But just seeing this first horse of mine in the pasture was a comfort and a dream come true. I used to beg Daddy for a horse when I was little. He always told me that horses did not make money; they cost money, and tear up fences. Our horses usually cared nothing about what was on the other side of our fence, but I understood what he meant about costing money. Horses can be expensive just to look at, but she was worth every penny. Every morning, Shadow would be in the barnyard waiting on Danny’s morning feeding, and I often would open my window and say hello. Shadow always returned my hellos with a gracious whinny.
Shadow developed into a beauty. She was sleek, shiny, and built like a rock; no hill proved too tough for her to climb, although those who rode her knew that she preferred going up much better than down. Her chest bulged and her rump was perfectly round. I used to tell her in the barn that she was so beautiful she could be a model on a horse calendar!
Her personality developed as well. She was the horse that would pick her head up upon hearing my voice…the horse waiting with her head out of the barn as I returned home from work in the evening. Shadow always heard my boots clicking down the road, often accompanying the noise with an anticipatory whinny of being fed the much-loved sweet feed. If her mother was not with her, since she was older and took longer to come to the barn after being called for supper, Shadow exemplified the sense of protection from her name. She would refuse to eat until she went to get her mother and bring her to the barn. Shadow would come to my call to let me know she was aware, but would run off to escort her mother in for the meal.
At times, Danny and I would get really frustrated with Shadow and the way she would ride. She was unpredictable and moody, but for the most part, she didn’t mind me riding her. She seemed to prefer me over others, probably because I was so gentle and submissive with her, or maybe I imagined that she preferred me. I don’t think Shadow like to be handled roughly, and I tried to respect that. Everyone said I was too gentle with her. I studied this horse to determine her peculiarities, trying to heed to her unspoken requests, while respecting and trusting her. I learned little quirky things about her, like certain things she was skeptical of and noises or sights that would scare her. She hated to be near the road, and the sound of Velcro on my saddlebags would startle her each time, probably due to her exceptional sense of hearing. She was afraid of tire marks on the road, and she abhorred running or walking on a steep downhill grade. She preferred to follow other horses, and I learned with a nice scar on my forearm that she didn’t like blazing a trail. While not necessarily a good thing, Shadow was always concerned about other horses, having to devote her attention to them when riding or hanging out. She had a nurturing sense about her, to take care of those in her presence.
I began riding Shadow in the summer of 2005, just merely eighteen months before her death. While she made others nervous, I only felt scared on her once or twice. Her rides were thrilling, but she never did anything to hurt me. I think Shadow was a bit scared at times, too, because I recall several instances where I would feel her shake under the saddle. I always tried to comfort her and encourage her to trust me. I reminded her of how I loved her and would never let anything hurt her.
With our busy schedules, we don’t ride as often as I’d like. But just seeing this first horse of mine in the pasture was a comfort and a dream come true. I used to beg Daddy for a horse when I was little. He always told me that horses did not make money; they cost money, and tear up fences. Our horses usually cared nothing about what was on the other side of our fence, but I understood what he meant about costing money. Horses can be expensive just to look at, but she was worth every penny. Every morning, Shadow would be in the barnyard waiting on Danny’s morning feeding, and I often would open my window and say hello. Shadow always returned my hellos with a gracious whinny.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
SHADOW - The Little Filly
Shadow came into my life in an imperceptible way. After a trip out west during the summer, I visited the Arnold family for the Thanksgiving holiday in November 1998. Danny somewhat had “taken a liking” to me after that trip, and the tiny spark of a new romance was forming. I remember Anna Elise having the chicken pox and I being a nervous wreck that I would contract them, since I have yet to have the much-dreaded virus. I also remember that Danny kissed me for the first time in the barn at his parent’s house, just prior to watching old home videos and holding hands on the couch. The whole family was there, including Cindi, who had her beau, Jonathan, there; they married the next summer. I remember that Thursday being sunny and warm, everyone able to wear short sleeve t-shirts comfortably.
Danny had been boarding Sunday, his dear horse and friend of twelve years, and her little Filly foal in the pasture at his parents’ house. Before we had the Thanksgiving meal, Danny saddled Sunday for a few brief rides for those who had interest. I of course did not pass up the opportunity.
Sunday is a dark brown Quarter horse who accidentally was bred by a paint stud horse. Her genes must be omnipotent, for her offspring was the exact replica of herself. As we each took our turn on Sunday, the little one followed patiently in her mother’s footsteps; she insisted on being by her mother’s side at all times. Danny mentioned that he had not been able to come up with an appropriate name for the foal. He slyly said, “She might be a good little horse for Rhonda someday”. I remember thinking how far-fetched that idea sounded!
As we were riding, I exclaimed how the Filly was like Sunday’s shadow, and Danny decided that sounded like a fitting name, deciding to call her just that. Many of his friends nicknamed her Saturday, but it was understood that her real name was Shadow.
Danny had been boarding Sunday, his dear horse and friend of twelve years, and her little Filly foal in the pasture at his parents’ house. Before we had the Thanksgiving meal, Danny saddled Sunday for a few brief rides for those who had interest. I of course did not pass up the opportunity.
Sunday is a dark brown Quarter horse who accidentally was bred by a paint stud horse. Her genes must be omnipotent, for her offspring was the exact replica of herself. As we each took our turn on Sunday, the little one followed patiently in her mother’s footsteps; she insisted on being by her mother’s side at all times. Danny mentioned that he had not been able to come up with an appropriate name for the foal. He slyly said, “She might be a good little horse for Rhonda someday”. I remember thinking how far-fetched that idea sounded!
As we were riding, I exclaimed how the Filly was like Sunday’s shadow, and Danny decided that sounded like a fitting name, deciding to call her just that. Many of his friends nicknamed her Saturday, but it was understood that her real name was Shadow.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Unestablished Cause
Well, four months have now passed since I lost my Georgia. The vet reports have finally been completed, leaving the reason behind her hemorrhaging as an “unestablished cause”. I guess she will always be our medical marvel, never knowing what the root of the problem was. The other cows have been fine and perfectly healthy. Caroline is due to calve in the near future, which is exciting for us, although she is still a battleaxe and I swear she hates me more each day. She is a beautiful cow, though, and produced an equally beautiful (but MUCH nicer) heifer, Daisy. RedRock is developing into a handsome bull, with a big strong neck and nice firm muscles. I think his name is quite fitting, and it’s nice that he is so mild-mannered. Daisy has a pretty sweet disposition, too - probably because she is spoiled rotten. She is always served her dinner in the barn so you better get out of her way when you open the door! Daisy is our gypsy soul too, always climbing over the fence to the horse’s side to see what she can find. Jill – the calf Georgia left behind – has grown, just a little, and become more trusting of me. I still work with her in the barn to gain her trust, which seems to be working. I like to style her hair and she doesn’t seem to mind. Jill’s going to look like Georgia one day, if she ever starts to grow. I constantly scold Danny for calling her names like “runt” and “midget”. I always tell him she may be our prize cow one day. I often look at her and see Georgia in her, wondering what Georgia would look and be like today. I’d imagine she’d be all fat and pregnant, and turning darker now, which she did in the winter. I would joke during the summer that she’d had her hide highlighted while I was at work.
Georgia left a definite void in my barnyard. I miss her big ears and head turning to me when she heard my voice, seeing her run to the barn to eat - afraid that she might miss a pellet of grain, and the occasional moo I would get when I talked to her while she was in the pasture. The way Caroline treats me reminds me of how sweet Georgia was – maybe I shouldn’t have had a favorite. Danny and I have gone with Daddy to look at his cows and pick out another bred one to add to our herd, since we lost an integral part of it. I of course cannot choose one because there are just too many to consider! I rest assured my father will select the best. He says he’ll bring one up after the winter subsides, so we don’t have another mouth to feed. I look forward to the adventure…just like waiting for Georgia and Caroline to arrive. It reminds me of the circle of life – how things just keep going with time, lives interacting with each other until their time is up and it happens all again.
Georgia left a definite void in my barnyard. I miss her big ears and head turning to me when she heard my voice, seeing her run to the barn to eat - afraid that she might miss a pellet of grain, and the occasional moo I would get when I talked to her while she was in the pasture. The way Caroline treats me reminds me of how sweet Georgia was – maybe I shouldn’t have had a favorite. Danny and I have gone with Daddy to look at his cows and pick out another bred one to add to our herd, since we lost an integral part of it. I of course cannot choose one because there are just too many to consider! I rest assured my father will select the best. He says he’ll bring one up after the winter subsides, so we don’t have another mouth to feed. I look forward to the adventure…just like waiting for Georgia and Caroline to arrive. It reminds me of the circle of life – how things just keep going with time, lives interacting with each other until their time is up and it happens all again.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Symbolism
For thirteen months, I've seen this cow just about everyday I was at home. Danny and I rarely go to bed without seeing all of our animals. For half a year, we feed them twice a day. I've hiked many acres on many frigid mornings checking on her when she was ready to calve last winter. I've talked to her so much and was such a proud farmer when she had her first born. I've taken so many pictures and videos. Everybody who knows me knows about my Georgia and the herd...they're my wallpaper on my cell phone! I invite people to come see my cows, and insist how they know their names! She was such a huge part of my life and a constant reminder of home...all I had to do was call "GEORGIA" and all the animals would arrive at the barn. What a sweet reminder of my daddy and mama...who claims he already has another Georgia picked out. I told him there could never be another...but I'm thinking "Georgeanne" might be okay. ??? Besides, we would like to wait and see if the incident was specific to Georgia before bringing another cow into a life-threatening environment. Danny and I have decided to hang a couple pictures of Georgia in our barn where we still can see her everyday...like an Arnold Acres wall of fame.
So, yes, she was a cow, but not just any cow. She was symbolic of my family's farm and my home, the foundation of the farm Danny and I are trying to start, and just 1500 pounds of sweetness. I think I could've ridden her. We are still communicating with the vets, and will have to wait a while for the report from the big lab in Raleigh that handles bacterial and viral cultures. We are scared to death that the incident is not isolated to Georgia, leaving our other four susceptible. Caroline, the battleaxe that she is, is pregnant too, so any treatment we would have to give would cause her to abort. The vet takes a while to get to our house, so we have to catch it early on if it starts to manifest in one of the others. Georgia's organs and fluid levels and everything else inside of her was absolutely perfect. Any typical solution to the cause of death is disputed by her perfect health...no dehydration, full bag of milk, no large amounts of suspicious fluids or leaves. Most reasons of this type of death take a 1 - 2 week onset of symptoms, but the autopsy shows she went down in 12 - 20 hours, probably with no hope of help from me or any vet. I would have noticed any weird signs during 2 weeks. In fact, I just took a video of Georgia and RedRock running to the barn for their grain on Monday night...3 days before she died! UGH...I hate not knowing. I've looked at more cow manure in the past 5 days than some have in a lifetime. This one has really ripped my heart out because she was such a big part of my daily routine. I spend at least 30 minutes with the animals each day. I've wished and daydreamed many times that they and a small farm could be my occupation up here...but I'd get so bored at home by myself. She was supposed to supply us with cows for the next 15 or so years.
But my plan isn't the divine one, so I'm stuck dealing with her being gone and wondering why, but completely thankful for the time I had with her...I'd do it all over again if I knew this was how it would end. It's funny, how many cows I've cried over in my life (not many girls can say that one)...but none ever felt like this. I need to get all my tears out and just move on with her precious memories. Writing helps, but they're still flowing. I'm afraid it'll take having some closure on the cause before my grieving can fade away...it's hard to stop it when I'm in fear of the others going down just as quickly. Maybe I'm too tenderhearted to farm cattle or something. I don't know. I just know when I love something, I love it with my whole heart. I’m just thankful for the opportunity to love her, her offspring, her companions, and any other cows or animals that come our way…always remembering how this special one left my life as quickly as she entered it.
So, yes, she was a cow, but not just any cow. She was symbolic of my family's farm and my home, the foundation of the farm Danny and I are trying to start, and just 1500 pounds of sweetness. I think I could've ridden her. We are still communicating with the vets, and will have to wait a while for the report from the big lab in Raleigh that handles bacterial and viral cultures. We are scared to death that the incident is not isolated to Georgia, leaving our other four susceptible. Caroline, the battleaxe that she is, is pregnant too, so any treatment we would have to give would cause her to abort. The vet takes a while to get to our house, so we have to catch it early on if it starts to manifest in one of the others. Georgia's organs and fluid levels and everything else inside of her was absolutely perfect. Any typical solution to the cause of death is disputed by her perfect health...no dehydration, full bag of milk, no large amounts of suspicious fluids or leaves. Most reasons of this type of death take a 1 - 2 week onset of symptoms, but the autopsy shows she went down in 12 - 20 hours, probably with no hope of help from me or any vet. I would have noticed any weird signs during 2 weeks. In fact, I just took a video of Georgia and RedRock running to the barn for their grain on Monday night...3 days before she died! UGH...I hate not knowing. I've looked at more cow manure in the past 5 days than some have in a lifetime. This one has really ripped my heart out because she was such a big part of my daily routine. I spend at least 30 minutes with the animals each day. I've wished and daydreamed many times that they and a small farm could be my occupation up here...but I'd get so bored at home by myself. She was supposed to supply us with cows for the next 15 or so years.
But my plan isn't the divine one, so I'm stuck dealing with her being gone and wondering why, but completely thankful for the time I had with her...I'd do it all over again if I knew this was how it would end. It's funny, how many cows I've cried over in my life (not many girls can say that one)...but none ever felt like this. I need to get all my tears out and just move on with her precious memories. Writing helps, but they're still flowing. I'm afraid it'll take having some closure on the cause before my grieving can fade away...it's hard to stop it when I'm in fear of the others going down just as quickly. Maybe I'm too tenderhearted to farm cattle or something. I don't know. I just know when I love something, I love it with my whole heart. I’m just thankful for the opportunity to love her, her offspring, her companions, and any other cows or animals that come our way…always remembering how this special one left my life as quickly as she entered it.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Mystery of Demise
It all happened so suddenly, and the results are still unknown...baffling the state vets. I arrived home from work around 5:00 on Wednesday; we had arranged for our farrier to come shoe our horses at 6:00. He arrived early, and I just parked and hung out at the barn with everybody until he finished. I had seen the herd grazing on the hillside in one of their favorite spots, so nothing abnormal there. However, I was watching the farrier and the cows came over the ridge toward the barn. They're pretty nosy, and always ready for grain, so when we're near the barn, they come, too. I noticed right away that something seemed odd about Georgia...I asked our friend Jamie if her milk bag looked larger than normal, b/c something seemed different about her, she was walking slower than usual, or something. But what am I supposed to do, call the vet and say, our cow walked slower than usual to the barn? She was always curious and watched us from afar...especially from the top of the mountain when she could see us in the yard. Since I had not changed from my work clothes, Danny said he would feed, so I didn't help. I asked him when he walked in the house if they all ate their grain and if they seemed okay, and he said everybody ate as normal.
The next morning, Danny and his crew were working at our house in the lower pasture across from the barn. He had to get four of the cows out of the barn...they had busted in and were eating hay, but Georgia was standing just outside the barnyard watching. Weird, he thought, because Georgia was our bully who ate everything. He thought, maybe they just broke in and Georgia hadn't made it in there yet. Later, we had a lunch guest and did some shooting afterward, so I recall specifically that at 3:15 when I walked up to the house and made a special effort to see and speak to all the cows, Georgia was grazing with the herd, standing there looking normal and as gorgeous as ever. :)
Danny and I had to leave at about 6:00 to take care of some things, and when we were leaving, we noticed Georgia lying in the pasture with the other four around her. I rolled the window down and called for her, and she picked her head up and whipped her big ears around to look at me just as she would always do. So, another incident of something not right but she responded kind of normally to it.
We returned about 45 minutes later, and she was still lying, but this time, it was VERY different. Her legs were folded in a way that was not right. I jumped out of my truck and ran to her...seeing her labored breathing and blood in her nostrils. But she looked so peaceful, and in no discomfort whatsoever. I'm so thankful that I was able to rub her face and tell her I loved her just moments before she passed. She looked at me and then just laid her head down on her front legs, like she was so tired. I ran out of the pasture, peeled out in my truck to get to the house to call the mobile vet, telling our dear buddy Worth I thought it was too late. Danny was moments behind on a backhoe he was moving across the mountain. He came in to hear me talking to the vet, and realized the seriousness of what was happening. He and I ran to the pasture together after I completed the call, only to find that Georgia had died during those 30 brief minutes. She had died and rolled over, making Danny think she was still alive. I knew the instant I saw her she was no longer alive, telling Danny she was dead. We rolled her back into a more pleasant position and just cried, astonished that our prize-winning cow and sweet baby just died, for no apparent reason. We inspected her and could not find anything, only a pile of suspicious looking manure, with "red seeds". The red seeds were actually blood-coated grain, indicating hemorrhage. The vet came out anyway, and from what he could tell, confirmed that the death was very quick and baffling. During this, my heart just broke into smaller pieces because Jill stood at the gate and just mooed...
We loaded Georgia into the back of my truck and respectfully covered her in a tarp, and headed, with Worth, early the next morning to the NC Department of Agriculture diagnostics lab for an autopsy. A very somber trip, and quite sad to see Danny walk around her and pet her one more time, even the tip of her tail, as we left her on the steel table to be examined. By the way, we actually lost two cows. As we suspected, she was pregnant...with about a 4 month old heifer, in perfect health. And, Georgia still had her baby teeth. :( Danny has been so supportive to me and all my crying...he's just as heartbroken and misses her too. He's told everybody how special Georgia was, how trusting she was of us, how sentimental it was for Mama and Daddy to hand pick her to start our herd here, etc. I guess Danny and I have bonded more, we've gone through the stages of death together...sadness, disbelief, anger, etc. I can't bare the thought of us losing a human.
The next morning, Danny and his crew were working at our house in the lower pasture across from the barn. He had to get four of the cows out of the barn...they had busted in and were eating hay, but Georgia was standing just outside the barnyard watching. Weird, he thought, because Georgia was our bully who ate everything. He thought, maybe they just broke in and Georgia hadn't made it in there yet. Later, we had a lunch guest and did some shooting afterward, so I recall specifically that at 3:15 when I walked up to the house and made a special effort to see and speak to all the cows, Georgia was grazing with the herd, standing there looking normal and as gorgeous as ever. :)
Danny and I had to leave at about 6:00 to take care of some things, and when we were leaving, we noticed Georgia lying in the pasture with the other four around her. I rolled the window down and called for her, and she picked her head up and whipped her big ears around to look at me just as she would always do. So, another incident of something not right but she responded kind of normally to it.
We returned about 45 minutes later, and she was still lying, but this time, it was VERY different. Her legs were folded in a way that was not right. I jumped out of my truck and ran to her...seeing her labored breathing and blood in her nostrils. But she looked so peaceful, and in no discomfort whatsoever. I'm so thankful that I was able to rub her face and tell her I loved her just moments before she passed. She looked at me and then just laid her head down on her front legs, like she was so tired. I ran out of the pasture, peeled out in my truck to get to the house to call the mobile vet, telling our dear buddy Worth I thought it was too late. Danny was moments behind on a backhoe he was moving across the mountain. He came in to hear me talking to the vet, and realized the seriousness of what was happening. He and I ran to the pasture together after I completed the call, only to find that Georgia had died during those 30 brief minutes. She had died and rolled over, making Danny think she was still alive. I knew the instant I saw her she was no longer alive, telling Danny she was dead. We rolled her back into a more pleasant position and just cried, astonished that our prize-winning cow and sweet baby just died, for no apparent reason. We inspected her and could not find anything, only a pile of suspicious looking manure, with "red seeds". The red seeds were actually blood-coated grain, indicating hemorrhage. The vet came out anyway, and from what he could tell, confirmed that the death was very quick and baffling. During this, my heart just broke into smaller pieces because Jill stood at the gate and just mooed...
We loaded Georgia into the back of my truck and respectfully covered her in a tarp, and headed, with Worth, early the next morning to the NC Department of Agriculture diagnostics lab for an autopsy. A very somber trip, and quite sad to see Danny walk around her and pet her one more time, even the tip of her tail, as we left her on the steel table to be examined. By the way, we actually lost two cows. As we suspected, she was pregnant...with about a 4 month old heifer, in perfect health. And, Georgia still had her baby teeth. :( Danny has been so supportive to me and all my crying...he's just as heartbroken and misses her too. He's told everybody how special Georgia was, how trusting she was of us, how sentimental it was for Mama and Daddy to hand pick her to start our herd here, etc. I guess Danny and I have bonded more, we've gone through the stages of death together...sadness, disbelief, anger, etc. I can't bare the thought of us losing a human.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Georgia - They're Here!
Georgia and Caroline arrived on a warm late-summer day in August, 2005. Mama and Daddy brought them up after hand-picking two of the healthiest-looking bred heifers in their herd. Danny and I were filled with excitement of their arrival…wondering what they would look like, how they would adjust to the “hills”, etc. We’d been wanting to start our own herd, and I was so excited that I would have a piece of home in our pasture! I had told everyone how we were getting cows on that Friday. I thought it was only fitting to name them Georgia and Caroline to represent our home states. We kept them closed up in the barnyard to help them acclimate to their new surroundings, which they seemed to do just fine. It’s amazing how a little sweet feed can train an animal so quickly! I immediately knew which one should be Georgia, and we’ve laughed often at how appropriate the name fit her. She was so sweet and gentle, always trustworthy of us, but she was quite bossy with the other cows. Sometimes she’d get so excited in the barnyard she’d double-barrel kick and run around.
We had a lot of fun watching her grow during the fall and winter. Caroline calved first, having a heifer named Daisy on January 28, so I knew Georgia would not be far behind. Georgia was a great friend to Caroline, never leaving her side and possessing a sense of protection over Caroline and her newborn. Not that Caroline needed protection…any movement within 25 feet of her calf or eye contact for more than three seconds represented a huge threat to her with the result of her charging at me or whomever she could bulldog! Georgia wouldn’t even come eat for a couple days, not until she felt satisfied leaving Caroline. One night after I had to hike up to coax her to come down to eat, I remember watching in amazement when once she finished eating, how fast this fat, pregnant cow sprinted back up the mountain to check on her comrade. I hated Danny didn’t get to see that performance, because I’ve never seen a cow bolt straight out of a barn out of sight over a mountaintop! I thought for sure she’d go into labor. After many cold morning hikes to ensure Georgia was not calving with any difficulties, she had a little heifer on the evening of February 7, right as I was returning home from work. I was thrilled I was able to witness both Caroline and Georgia giving birth. It was about 20 degrees that night, and Danny and I took some hay out to Georgia for her to have and to check on the little one. When we approached, we immediately knew something was wrong. Georgia was panicking around the spring where the cows get water, and Caroline seemed a bit on edge as well. The baby heifer, less than three hours old, had rolled down into the spring of icy water, hence the name Jill, and was unable to get up. Georgia kept nudging at her, but had no success in retrieving her from the spring. Danny was able to pull Jill out and we took her to the barn stall for a warmer environment. I was so nervous about the health of this little one, who seemed so weak and fragile, I didn’t even go to work the next day. Georgia would cover her with hay while she went to eat and drink, and was a very caring mother. I was excited about Caroline and Georgia’s calves…like I was a mother or something. I don’t have children, and anyone who’s ever known me realizes that my heart is tender when it comes to loving animals. Jill has definitely been a “mama’s girl”, always by Georgia’s side. She’s a runt though, never as large as Miss Daisy.
It’s been fun watching all the girls, especially when their new boyfriend, RedRock joined them in March of the following year. Caroline and RedRock pal around together, because Georgia was such a bully, especially when the grain appeared! Even though he seemed so fond of Caroline, we suspected that RedRock bred Georgia along with Caroline sometime in late spring. So I’ve been wondering what and when they would have, anticipating more hikes up the steep trails before heading to work in the morning. It’s sad to say that this plan of mine was apparently not that of the Lord’s. Georgia died exactly seven months after she brought little Jill into our lives, on Thursday evening, September 7, 2006.
We had a lot of fun watching her grow during the fall and winter. Caroline calved first, having a heifer named Daisy on January 28, so I knew Georgia would not be far behind. Georgia was a great friend to Caroline, never leaving her side and possessing a sense of protection over Caroline and her newborn. Not that Caroline needed protection…any movement within 25 feet of her calf or eye contact for more than three seconds represented a huge threat to her with the result of her charging at me or whomever she could bulldog! Georgia wouldn’t even come eat for a couple days, not until she felt satisfied leaving Caroline. One night after I had to hike up to coax her to come down to eat, I remember watching in amazement when once she finished eating, how fast this fat, pregnant cow sprinted back up the mountain to check on her comrade. I hated Danny didn’t get to see that performance, because I’ve never seen a cow bolt straight out of a barn out of sight over a mountaintop! I thought for sure she’d go into labor. After many cold morning hikes to ensure Georgia was not calving with any difficulties, she had a little heifer on the evening of February 7, right as I was returning home from work. I was thrilled I was able to witness both Caroline and Georgia giving birth. It was about 20 degrees that night, and Danny and I took some hay out to Georgia for her to have and to check on the little one. When we approached, we immediately knew something was wrong. Georgia was panicking around the spring where the cows get water, and Caroline seemed a bit on edge as well. The baby heifer, less than three hours old, had rolled down into the spring of icy water, hence the name Jill, and was unable to get up. Georgia kept nudging at her, but had no success in retrieving her from the spring. Danny was able to pull Jill out and we took her to the barn stall for a warmer environment. I was so nervous about the health of this little one, who seemed so weak and fragile, I didn’t even go to work the next day. Georgia would cover her with hay while she went to eat and drink, and was a very caring mother. I was excited about Caroline and Georgia’s calves…like I was a mother or something. I don’t have children, and anyone who’s ever known me realizes that my heart is tender when it comes to loving animals. Jill has definitely been a “mama’s girl”, always by Georgia’s side. She’s a runt though, never as large as Miss Daisy.
It’s been fun watching all the girls, especially when their new boyfriend, RedRock joined them in March of the following year. Caroline and RedRock pal around together, because Georgia was such a bully, especially when the grain appeared! Even though he seemed so fond of Caroline, we suspected that RedRock bred Georgia along with Caroline sometime in late spring. So I’ve been wondering what and when they would have, anticipating more hikes up the steep trails before heading to work in the morning. It’s sad to say that this plan of mine was apparently not that of the Lord’s. Georgia died exactly seven months after she brought little Jill into our lives, on Thursday evening, September 7, 2006.
Another loss at Arnold Acres
To those of you who were aware that I've been anxiously awaiting the arrival of a new calf, we lost it last Friday. My little Jill had a healthy bull that somehow got separated from her, all the way across the road into a completely different pasture. So what, a lot of people think, we lost a calf. My sorrow in this livestock business goes deeper than most people realize! Therefore, I'm adding this recent ordeal to my story (that I never could figure out how to link), and I've decided to blog my story from the beginning in sections; it is the foundation of the whole "barntales" idea. I apologize to those who have read the story, although I've done some minor editing since I last printed it. I hope the story creates a better understanding of how serious I take my job here in tending to the farm.
Friday, December 7, 2007
My boys
Bo and Luke are the two precious kitties of the family. Very fat, special kitties are they! At age 25, I got the boys on December 15, 2001 from Jacksonville, Florida, where I was living at the time. Here's their story:
I lived on a golf course in Jacksonville. One day while walking about the course, I heard a faint cry in a bush and knew immediately that it was a kitten. He was a fuzzy little white and gray kitty that somehow lost his mother. Being who I am, I scooped the little one up and happily went home with "Links". Links was a very athletic and energetic kitty, thereby ripping the furniture and carpet to shreds in bouts of boredom and restlessness. My roommate and I decided to have him declawed while he was anesthesized for neutering. Well, Mr. Linksy never woke up. Prior to his one-way trip to the vet for his murder/procedure, I even took Links to my office for all the girls to meet, since they had heard so much of my little feline. It was a very sad time for me...which actually was about this time of year. I was striken with guilt for requesting the declaw; declawing requires a higher dosage of anesthesia than neutering alone. After a while, I realized that the anesthesiologist was an idiot and perhaps I should not carry around so much guilt.
Since I had become so accustomed to the life and entertainment from the little kitten, I decided to get another one. I went to the humane society but all the kittens were claimed. I searched for rescue organizations and discovered "Purrfect Love", an organization that rescues animals from euthanasia at the humane society. In October, Bo and Luke were scheduled to be put to sleep because of a bad respiratory infection. However, Purrfect Love realized the potential health of the kittens, adopted them, and began nursing them back to good health. Choosing my new kitten was difficult for I wanted each one that had been rescued! Some of the older cats were pitiful; one had been doused with kerosene and set afire on Halloween. The next dilemma I faced was splitting up litter mates. That's when the thought occurred that two kittens may be better than one because each would keep the other company. With proper justification, I selected Bo and Luke.
Sick since birth, they were not very pretty kittens. They had pot bellies, runny eyes, and drippy noses. Their illnesses progressed even though they were on a pretty high dose of antibiotics. (For those of you who don't know what antibiotics make a kitty's rump smell like, be thankful!) The respiratory infection was accompanied by a gastrointestinal infection and a good case of ringworm. I could handle the projectile sneezes and stinky side effects, but the GI infection had me considering purchasing newborn diapers and cutting holes in them so the cats could wear them with their tails hanging out. Luckily, it never came to that point. But I unfortunately did not discover their ringworm until I identified it on myself! It was the easiest cure of all...and no harm to me!
After thorough background checks and verifying multiple references, I decided on my new vet. With proper nutrition, medication, and about $800, Bo and Luke were on their way to optimal health! When it came time for neutering, I selected the gas method of anesthesia over the injection form; the vets could remove the gas at any sign of distress in the kitten. For thirty minutes Bo and Luke were put to sleep and neutered, and this is the only time in their lives that they were separated.
These kitties have lived in many places before calling the mountains their home. They lived in three different apartments in Jacksonville, in Athens, Georgia, at Nana and Papa's, our first house in Kernersville, and home. My sickly, city kitties have come a long way in six years. And they haven't had the first cold, only injuries from the farm since they have free choice to go in and out.
In Kernersville, the house had neither screens nor air conditioning. I asked Danny to please put up the screens he had for the windows so we could have some fresh air. With the boys solely accustomed to apartment living, the outdoors was a scary and unfamiliar place to them. While the house was situated in the middle of tobacco fields, a busy road was in the front of the house. Danny assured me it would all work out just fine. Our first evening away from home while dining with his parents, Luke discovered a window I did not lower enough and decided to explore the great outdoors. I hysterically and immediately realized he was gone when we returned. After an hour of searching, calling, and rattling treats, I found Luke crouching and crying under a tobacco plant. Danny was so scared, moreso for himself than for Luke!
The boys love the mountains. They have caught moles, birds, rabbits, and field mice, which they usually bring in their front door with much pride and as gifts for us. These city slickers have even killed a possum! Danny, who was against the kitties living in the house, has taught them that they are kitty cats, not just boys. They don't hunt as much as they have in the first few years here. In fact, they are pretty lazy in their routines. They expect to be fed precisely at 6:15am and promptly at 5:00pm. Little Bo has morning "beg" duty, pouncing on my chest at the first sound of my voice; Luke has evening duty, which starts at about 3:00, following me everywhere I go. Luke enjoys bird hunting after his morning feeding while Bo is more interested in a walk to the barn or mole hunting after the evening feeding. We think something spooked BoBo at the barn because he goes there significantly less often these days. If I procrastinate at 5:00, which I often do to make them keep walking around, they'll get so mad that they fight with each other. Sometimes before bedtime we have kitty wrestling, more physical activity that I encourage. Our vet, Dr. Sluss (again with references), happens to have the boys labeled as severely obese in their files. Bo weighs in at 15lbs with Luke tipping the scales at 17lbs. We have a song we've composed and sing, "Dr. Sluss Is Gonna Fuss"; most of the songs we make up and sing are to old hymn tunes.
These two kitties destined for euthanasia have given me such sweet companionship for six years. I may have lost one kitty, but I gained two. Although they sleep about 20 hours a day, I enjoy feeling the life in their presence and think how they almost didn't have a chance. I never have to worry about oversleeping, either! Their part of the contract during the adoption process was to stay with me until I'm at the age of 40 for housecats typically live about 15 years, much to Danny's chagrin! We have 8 years remaining in the contract, if obesity complications or that "hard mountain living" doesn't expedite the process.
I lived on a golf course in Jacksonville. One day while walking about the course, I heard a faint cry in a bush and knew immediately that it was a kitten. He was a fuzzy little white and gray kitty that somehow lost his mother. Being who I am, I scooped the little one up and happily went home with "Links". Links was a very athletic and energetic kitty, thereby ripping the furniture and carpet to shreds in bouts of boredom and restlessness. My roommate and I decided to have him declawed while he was anesthesized for neutering. Well, Mr. Linksy never woke up. Prior to his one-way trip to the vet for his murder/procedure, I even took Links to my office for all the girls to meet, since they had heard so much of my little feline. It was a very sad time for me...which actually was about this time of year. I was striken with guilt for requesting the declaw; declawing requires a higher dosage of anesthesia than neutering alone. After a while, I realized that the anesthesiologist was an idiot and perhaps I should not carry around so much guilt.
Since I had become so accustomed to the life and entertainment from the little kitten, I decided to get another one. I went to the humane society but all the kittens were claimed. I searched for rescue organizations and discovered "Purrfect Love", an organization that rescues animals from euthanasia at the humane society. In October, Bo and Luke were scheduled to be put to sleep because of a bad respiratory infection. However, Purrfect Love realized the potential health of the kittens, adopted them, and began nursing them back to good health. Choosing my new kitten was difficult for I wanted each one that had been rescued! Some of the older cats were pitiful; one had been doused with kerosene and set afire on Halloween. The next dilemma I faced was splitting up litter mates. That's when the thought occurred that two kittens may be better than one because each would keep the other company. With proper justification, I selected Bo and Luke.
Sick since birth, they were not very pretty kittens. They had pot bellies, runny eyes, and drippy noses. Their illnesses progressed even though they were on a pretty high dose of antibiotics. (For those of you who don't know what antibiotics make a kitty's rump smell like, be thankful!) The respiratory infection was accompanied by a gastrointestinal infection and a good case of ringworm. I could handle the projectile sneezes and stinky side effects, but the GI infection had me considering purchasing newborn diapers and cutting holes in them so the cats could wear them with their tails hanging out. Luckily, it never came to that point. But I unfortunately did not discover their ringworm until I identified it on myself! It was the easiest cure of all...and no harm to me!
After thorough background checks and verifying multiple references, I decided on my new vet. With proper nutrition, medication, and about $800, Bo and Luke were on their way to optimal health! When it came time for neutering, I selected the gas method of anesthesia over the injection form; the vets could remove the gas at any sign of distress in the kitten. For thirty minutes Bo and Luke were put to sleep and neutered, and this is the only time in their lives that they were separated.
These kitties have lived in many places before calling the mountains their home. They lived in three different apartments in Jacksonville, in Athens, Georgia, at Nana and Papa's, our first house in Kernersville, and home. My sickly, city kitties have come a long way in six years. And they haven't had the first cold, only injuries from the farm since they have free choice to go in and out.
In Kernersville, the house had neither screens nor air conditioning. I asked Danny to please put up the screens he had for the windows so we could have some fresh air. With the boys solely accustomed to apartment living, the outdoors was a scary and unfamiliar place to them. While the house was situated in the middle of tobacco fields, a busy road was in the front of the house. Danny assured me it would all work out just fine. Our first evening away from home while dining with his parents, Luke discovered a window I did not lower enough and decided to explore the great outdoors. I hysterically and immediately realized he was gone when we returned. After an hour of searching, calling, and rattling treats, I found Luke crouching and crying under a tobacco plant. Danny was so scared, moreso for himself than for Luke!
The boys love the mountains. They have caught moles, birds, rabbits, and field mice, which they usually bring in their front door with much pride and as gifts for us. These city slickers have even killed a possum! Danny, who was against the kitties living in the house, has taught them that they are kitty cats, not just boys. They don't hunt as much as they have in the first few years here. In fact, they are pretty lazy in their routines. They expect to be fed precisely at 6:15am and promptly at 5:00pm. Little Bo has morning "beg" duty, pouncing on my chest at the first sound of my voice; Luke has evening duty, which starts at about 3:00, following me everywhere I go. Luke enjoys bird hunting after his morning feeding while Bo is more interested in a walk to the barn or mole hunting after the evening feeding. We think something spooked BoBo at the barn because he goes there significantly less often these days. If I procrastinate at 5:00, which I often do to make them keep walking around, they'll get so mad that they fight with each other. Sometimes before bedtime we have kitty wrestling, more physical activity that I encourage. Our vet, Dr. Sluss (again with references), happens to have the boys labeled as severely obese in their files. Bo weighs in at 15lbs with Luke tipping the scales at 17lbs. We have a song we've composed and sing, "Dr. Sluss Is Gonna Fuss"; most of the songs we make up and sing are to old hymn tunes.
These two kitties destined for euthanasia have given me such sweet companionship for six years. I may have lost one kitty, but I gained two. Although they sleep about 20 hours a day, I enjoy feeling the life in their presence and think how they almost didn't have a chance. I never have to worry about oversleeping, either! Their part of the contract during the adoption process was to stay with me until I'm at the age of 40 for housecats typically live about 15 years, much to Danny's chagrin! We have 8 years remaining in the contract, if obesity complications or that "hard mountain living" doesn't expedite the process.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Elly Mae
When I was at UGA pursuing my doctoral degree, my favorite class was a qualitative research course. Qualitative research involves subjective observation of the themes and patterns of behaviors in a set of people; quantitative research involves measurements and calculations of specific and concrete actions in a set of people. I'm not sure if it was the content matter or the professor, Dr. Elizabeth Payne, that intrigued me. At first, I was certain that the professor was going to live up to her last name! I remember my sister, Wendy, telling me when I was beginning college to not be fooled by my first impression of my professors on "syllabus day", the first day of class. She was absolutely correct because on the first day, professors put up a front to weed out potential problem students and show that he/she has the authority and power over your grade. I know firsthand after teaching courses through my three years of graduate school.
Anyway, Dr. Payne was an intense teacher. She loved her job and it showed. In addition to the four textbooks we had for the course, we had various other book assignments to read about every other week, each about a various culture and the roots of its behaviors. Dr. Payne challenged each of us at a new level. For her dissertation, she moved to an Indian reservation for over a year. She moved in with a family and adopted the culture of the tribe to immerse herself into her research. Dr. Payne believed in the theoretical construct that to truly understand the behaviors and customs of a population, the researcher must "walk in their shoes" to grasp the true foundations of behaviors. She was a cool teacher.
Qualitative research is more time consuming than quantitative, so it is not often the method chosen to collect data. Constant observation and memorization collects qualitative data; the researcher must continually treat every encounter as a collection point. The key to successful qualitative data collection is to blend in with the environment so behaviors of the population are not altered. You know how we each feel knowing a camera is aimed at us or a microphone is near our mouth; we tend to behave just a bit differently. It takes a while to be accepted into another's environment, but after a while, a level of comfort and normalcy is established and true behaviors emerge.
So...why am I babbling about qualitative research? I have had several people ask me if I regret my choice to become a homemaker over completing something as prestigious as a doctorate of philosophy. My dad's joke, which I have used quite often, is that I decided to get my "MRS" instead of my "PHD". I've battled the thoughts that I am wasting my education but recently I have felt true peace about my decision. Ironically, I have had about the same number of people joke with me about all of our animals and my interactions with each. I have even had multiple people, mostly family, call me Elly Mae from the Beverly Hillbillies.
I feel like each day is a collection point of qualitative research because I truly enjoy observing the animals' behaviors and routines. Since we have a variety, boredom is not an issue for me. Research has always been a strong point for me because of my keen perception and memory. If you just watch an animal, you can learn to predict it's behavior and train it easily. Now I'm no horse whisperer, but I am good with animals. They are fun to watch and since most of you don't have 2 fat cats, 5 dogs, 4 horses, and 4 cows plus 3 cows and 3 chickens at the Fowler Farm, I plan to utilize my blogspot to record and share with you some of the interesting observations and encounters that I have.
Some people think I am wasting my time and compassion on animals and should be raising a family instead, for animals have no soul and short lifespans. Some people think I'm just a little crazy. But I feel the Lord has His hand in our lives right now. I feel that He is pleased that I am tending to His creatures, in some way preparing me for the hopeful family ahead.
I am content being called Elly Mae instead of "doctor". I love the companionship of the animals and the labor they require while I am making our home. I believe that my educational training has helped me to adapt to my new home in the mountains and care for the animals that I have acquired. (When Danny and I married, it was just the cats, Bo and Luke, our dog, Scout, and two horses, Sunday and Shadow.) I have immersed myself into mountain living, the job of tending to our home and small farm and the animals that come with it. I wrote in my last blog that I would write about the animals, but I felt it was necessary to explain or perhaps justify my interest of their routines and behaviors before sharing our "barntales". I am also trying to figure out a way to link a story I wrote about the loss of some of our animals in the past year; from what I've heard, it's a good story, but it is too long for a blog. It is the spark flaming my desire to write more...but not right now. :)
Anyway, Dr. Payne was an intense teacher. She loved her job and it showed. In addition to the four textbooks we had for the course, we had various other book assignments to read about every other week, each about a various culture and the roots of its behaviors. Dr. Payne challenged each of us at a new level. For her dissertation, she moved to an Indian reservation for over a year. She moved in with a family and adopted the culture of the tribe to immerse herself into her research. Dr. Payne believed in the theoretical construct that to truly understand the behaviors and customs of a population, the researcher must "walk in their shoes" to grasp the true foundations of behaviors. She was a cool teacher.
Qualitative research is more time consuming than quantitative, so it is not often the method chosen to collect data. Constant observation and memorization collects qualitative data; the researcher must continually treat every encounter as a collection point. The key to successful qualitative data collection is to blend in with the environment so behaviors of the population are not altered. You know how we each feel knowing a camera is aimed at us or a microphone is near our mouth; we tend to behave just a bit differently. It takes a while to be accepted into another's environment, but after a while, a level of comfort and normalcy is established and true behaviors emerge.
So...why am I babbling about qualitative research? I have had several people ask me if I regret my choice to become a homemaker over completing something as prestigious as a doctorate of philosophy. My dad's joke, which I have used quite often, is that I decided to get my "MRS" instead of my "PHD". I've battled the thoughts that I am wasting my education but recently I have felt true peace about my decision. Ironically, I have had about the same number of people joke with me about all of our animals and my interactions with each. I have even had multiple people, mostly family, call me Elly Mae from the Beverly Hillbillies.
I feel like each day is a collection point of qualitative research because I truly enjoy observing the animals' behaviors and routines. Since we have a variety, boredom is not an issue for me. Research has always been a strong point for me because of my keen perception and memory. If you just watch an animal, you can learn to predict it's behavior and train it easily. Now I'm no horse whisperer, but I am good with animals. They are fun to watch and since most of you don't have 2 fat cats, 5 dogs, 4 horses, and 4 cows plus 3 cows and 3 chickens at the Fowler Farm, I plan to utilize my blogspot to record and share with you some of the interesting observations and encounters that I have.
Some people think I am wasting my time and compassion on animals and should be raising a family instead, for animals have no soul and short lifespans. Some people think I'm just a little crazy. But I feel the Lord has His hand in our lives right now. I feel that He is pleased that I am tending to His creatures, in some way preparing me for the hopeful family ahead.
I am content being called Elly Mae instead of "doctor". I love the companionship of the animals and the labor they require while I am making our home. I believe that my educational training has helped me to adapt to my new home in the mountains and care for the animals that I have acquired. (When Danny and I married, it was just the cats, Bo and Luke, our dog, Scout, and two horses, Sunday and Shadow.) I have immersed myself into mountain living, the job of tending to our home and small farm and the animals that come with it. I wrote in my last blog that I would write about the animals, but I felt it was necessary to explain or perhaps justify my interest of their routines and behaviors before sharing our "barntales". I am also trying to figure out a way to link a story I wrote about the loss of some of our animals in the past year; from what I've heard, it's a good story, but it is too long for a blog. It is the spark flaming my desire to write more...but not right now. :)
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The Bledsoe Family
(without Brennan and Blair)
Mama and Daddy
Father's Day 2006
Daddy and me
GA Cotton!
Mama and me
Bull delivery, March 2006 (COLD!!)
Beth, Tommy, and me
Easter 2004
Tommy and me
In his office
Wendy and Alan
First Christmas as the Woodrum's
Beth, Mama, Rachel, and me
Rachel's first snow!
Brennan, Blair, and me
Woodrum Wedding November 2005
The Arnold Family
Christmas 2003
Arnold's and Bledsoe's
Mom and Dad A., Mama and Daddy
Mom A. and me
Softball champs!
Danny, Rosie, Gordy, Sheri, Peter, Cindi, and Steve
Danny's siblings
Bledsoe Farms
"The Land of Milk and Honey!"
Picking peanuts
"Straight-row Bledsoe"
