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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.