Yesterday afternoon we lost the tiny runt gilt who was born with a very weak hind end and quite thin. A litter of ten is big, so there was bound to be a runt or two. She latched on to the teat well, so I kept my eye on her and she seemed aggressive enough at the milk bar. Yesterday morning I decided to start her a bottle too because I felt she was getting more stumble in the hind end. I got some mil in her and she was strong fighting it, and was not near death at that point. Mid day she also did not seem in dire straights-she just needed time and milk. But at 4 pm when I checked on her, she was gone. In my previous check on her, she had been napping in the pig pile, and i wondered if she had been crushed, without the strength to move out.
I don't know.
I do know I tried, and she tried, and she had a short life of three days but was with her mates and mother in a warm, safe place. And I got to hold her a lot and care for her, so we all did what we had to do.
While we lost the tiny runt yesterday, today I approached the barn and had a thought just popped into my head as I opened the doors,
Death comes in waves...will there be another?
And there was old Rosie the goat, dead, Sir Tripod and Opie happily greeting me for breakfast.
She was never healthy - I took her on last fall from a breeder who said Rosie could not keep up at the hay stand and was getting thin, and wasn't aggressive enough to get enough feed. I had found this breeder and approached her via email, explaining how I took on old goats, and she said she let me take Rosie. When we picked her up I knew this goat was not long for the Earth, although I didn't say anything. The woman wanted $100, and I paid it and brought her home and did my best. I guess I'm a knucklehead for paying $100 for what was clearly a sick old goat, but she got one on one here and didn't get pushed around.
She was so thin and weak in the rear, often stumbling. I got a bit of weigh on her and got the lice under control, and wormed her. At on point she showed signs of congestion, but no fever, so I vetted her and brought her through that but every week she seemed to struggle with one condition or another. I felt sorry that she had given so much to this breeder and arrived here full of lice and thin as a bone.
I buried her and the runt together amongst spring floral to remind Old Rosie of youth and to show the runt the flowers she never got to see. They lie near The Head Troll and Scooby Keith, and the other piglets that died in the extreme cold farrowing in January. The gardens will be planted there though and it is a beautiful spot to be returned to earth.
Sometimes I question if what I'm doing helps or not.
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