On Valentine's Day, Chris noticed that another of the neighbor's goats had twin babies. They must have been a bit premature, because they didn't get to their feet at all that first day, and the mama lost interest, so we ended up with two more goats to try to bottle feed. One was an all brown girl, the other a white and brown boy. We set them up in the bath tub for the first few nights, feeding them round the clock. The little girl was really weak, and I had the feeling she wouldn't make it. And although she rallied on the second day and actually took the bottle and struggled to stand on her wobbly legs, she died Thursday morning.
I kicked Little Billy out of the house the same day, setting him up with a little box and hay for shelter under the porch, and reclaimed my bathroom. He seemed to be doing fine until he ended up with scours (diarrhea) on Saturday. Even though I didn't have diapers to change, his bawling and the middle of the night feeds (in combination with my own kids' night-time troubles) left me as exhausted as having a human newborn on my hands. Thankfully the neighbors took him back yesterday where they can keep him in their barn and he can't wake anyone but the chickens up at night.
The experience has got me thinking a bit more about the difference between pets and livestock. There is something intense and amazing about taking a living thing that would die without intervention and giving it that chance to live. But then I think about the farmer trying to make a living. Are all the hours it takes to keep a struggling animal alive worth the amount of profit in the long run? (Because, honestly, Little Billy is destined for the butcher.) And so I ponder.
Wednesday, our neighbor who had been fighting ALS died. I wasn't sure how to deal with it with the kids. Joe and Z are still young enough that death is just a fact and so they don't seem to grasp loss or feel any emotion about it at all. Finley does. She seems to handle death with the animals well. It makes her sad, but she doesn't get too upset unless Joe keeps talking about it. Chris took Joe to the visitation while I was out on an errand with the girls. Finley did NOT want to see the body and claimed the funeral was going to be boring, so in the end, since Chris was working and wasn't there to help me deal with it, I didn't force them to go to the funeral with me.
A lot of focus on death lately... I'm ready to focus on more life. Chicks are due in about four days.
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