Eleanor has died

Eleanor died last night. 

 

I knew this was coming and so did Eleanor. Eleanor was nine and this is a long life for a retired sow. a few weeks ago there were physical signs she was ill. When the vet was here this week for rabies shots, we made a pallative care plan for Eleanor and unless there was positive change we would help her on her way. I much prefer my animals go on their own but that is not always what is best for them. Vets are uncomfortable with it too, I find, even though I feel my vet trusts my judgement. In this case, Eleanor was basically sleeping all day and was not showing signs of distress. Last night, I knew she was close to going due to some physical signs. This morning it appeared she went sometime last night. There was no sign of a struggle.

 

When we lived in Oregon, and first moved to the farm, we decided if we were going to eat meat [I had been a vegetarian for years, Martyn was in his 20's but it wasn't good for his health or body] we would raise what little meat we ate, or supplement from other farms. It was a  big deal for me to raise and then eat animals. It was never comfortable. But I thought a lot about it, and the food chain, and living more in Nature molded my eventual decision. Some have never forgiven me for that [I don't care, although it was painful at the time]. Some don't understand it. It was a process for me. But I'm grateful I got to live that life, and I do not regret it, nor do I need to convince anyone of anything. I'm just so grateful for all the good mothers I had on the farm, and what it taught me. I also am past the point where I feel obligated to tell anyone what it taught me. But it taught me a lot.

 

Eleanor got to die in her own hut with Little Lonely and Uno with her, on a beautiful summer night. Uno and Little Lonely have moved on and were eager for breakfast. This photo shows Little Lonely with his grandmother, Eleanor. Uno is Eleanor's son.

 

I'm relieved for her, and me. We will bury her near the pumpkin patch. 

 

Thank you for all you gave us, Eleanor.

When your hair bolts out

Little Lonely is sporting his summer haircut and wears it proudly! And please don't tell him, or me, it reminds you of a certain slob with dyed orange hair. Little's hair is natural and free and you can't pull it off his head, you see. And also, Little doesn't scream and has not a mean bone in his body.

So just to educate anyone wanting to know, pigs bolt their hair each summer, and some lose it in the funniest ways. Some lose their top hair and it looks like a crew cut and some lose most of their body hair and keep this wig like look. How can we not love Little Lonely!

The prodigal son returns in the form of a pig

Uno was born in Oregon at Apifera two weeks before we moved to Maine-one of those Earnest broke the gate events. Once here, he and his brother Wee Willi went to live with a good friend up north on the coast. For three years he had a wonderful life, in his little wood hut with his brother, being loved and adored by his human. But then Willi died this year, suddenly.

My friend felt he was depressed, and she is going through some transitions herself so felt that the best thing was to rehome Uno to the right place, a place with a pig friend and human interaction-her job schedule had also changed so Uno was alone a lot. When she first told me she thought he was depressed, I wasn't sure if that was a human putting human emotions on an animal, but when I drove up to see Uno last week, I had to agree that he seemed down. I really wasn't planning to take on another pig, and we had driven up that day just for a visit. I had not seen Uno for three years, since he was a piglet.

Well, my friend kept telling me he was big. Holy smokes! That is an understatement. He is much bigger than Eleanor and I always considered her to be big for her breed. On top of it, Uno is very overweight-my friend gave him the best of the best including fruits and breads, but fruits have a lot of sugar and he was simply overeating. Since she had never had pigs, she just didn't know, I mean, how would you know. So we will work over time to get some weight off him, I think it is clearly slowing him down and I fear a heart attack. We will work on that.

We drove the two hour trip and it was ninety degrees and humid. When we got him home, I immediately put him in the mud bath paddock and hosed him for 15 minutes. I also notice his skin reddens very easily. This makes me wonder if he has circulation issues, just like a very overweight person would. He is not very agile either. So I was so happy to get him under the hose, he was really hot.

I let Eleanor and Little Lonely come out to greet him. May as well see how it goes. Marcella stayed out of it. I'd like to tell you all, that just like one of my paintings, Uno got up on his hind legs and walked to Eleanor and held her and said, "Oh mother, I have missed you,"...but instead Eleanor, the alpha, bit him and they fought a bit. He clearly is stronger than she is, but she is the boss. I separated them even though it calmed down quickly, only because it was so hot I didn't want him running around. He spent the night with the goats and all was well. This morning, I brought Eleanor and Little, and Marcella out with him. Same thing. But within minutes, Eleanor had backed off.

For now they will stay separate so I know he is getting his naps in without being harassed by his bossy mama.

Do they know each other? I have to imagine they do, by scent. But I can't say for certain. I think every human wants to believe a son returning to his first home, and his mother [and father] would know...but three years for a pig is a long time. By the end of the first day, I watched him as he walked around, sniffing the air, in the same paddock he lived in with his mates. I felt he did sense he had been here.

So Uno who began in Oregon, and drove across America with us, and then moved to the upper mid coast is now back home. I have to tell you, as far as a pig's life goes, he has had a good one. I am grateful my friend cared and loved him, and grateful we can take him on and help both her out, and Uno.

He is full of expressions!

On his arrival on a hot day

Nosing his mother Eleanor through the fence

Pig line up

Officer: Do you two realize it is illegal to break into a grocery store and take food?

Grandmother Pig: Why, no, we did not.

This is Eleanor and her grandson, Little Lonely, aka Freddy the Dreamer. I was leaving the barn when I looked over and saw them like this. It cracked me up. I guess we know what a pig line up at the police station would look like.

Heaven just got a bit grumpier...goodbye, Rosie

"She is gone," I told them.

As I sat with the body I could here the news spreading amongst the animals,

"Rosie is dead,"

"Rosie has died,"

"It's over,"

and on and on until the last creature was informed.

I placed a drop of oil on her body,

"May you not feel any more pain, and may you never be cold, and may you find a good cloud, and may you see Stevie again," I said.

I wrapped her body in her pink blanket, made just for her, embroidered with words so carefully placed,

"The World's Grumpiest But I Am Fine As I Am Pig ~ Rosie"

We placed her in our clam sled, and began the slow march to the front garden, a place we had gathered before over the last couple of years. As the animals stood in front of the freshly dug hole in the Earth, Martyn helped me lower Rosie's body into the ground, her pink blanket covering her to keep her forever warm. I placed a shroud over her eyes, a shroud made from Assumpta's wool. Burial items had come from afar, and I placed each one, thoughtfully, and carefully around her body. I placed feathers with her for flight, a toy llama for safety, a pig for a reminder of what she once was, and on the top, a red rose.

Earnest stood of to the side, he had dressed in his formal cape and bow tie. The goose, who had slept amongst Rosie in the last two weeks, also came. White Dog watched. Pino and Paco both said their goodbyes,

"I remember when you arrived," said Pino. "I remember when you could run."

"I understand you," said Paco. He placed a slip of paper in the grave, with a special, private poem to Rosie.

Earnest said not one word.

We covered the body in ancient soil, perhaps Civil War heros who once lived here had touched it long ago.

When the final dirt was spread, Opie pointed to the sky,

"Look, it's Rosie, she has beautiful polk-a-dots now!"

The animals had paid their final respects, and as they left they all bowed to the nearby grave of The Head Troll. Martyn returned to the house.

I knelt down, and whispered one last time,

"Oh, Rosie!"

As I returned to the house, it was still, and clear, and crisp. I heard a rustling, clouds appeared over head, tree branches snapped, and a distinctive hrumf-grrr-arrrr-hrumpf sound echoed in my hear.

Heaven just got a little grumpier.

"Rosie! Rosie, where are you?!"

I had one of those heart stopping animal moments last night in the outer barn. I had done my nighttime feedings and chores with the sheep and equines and made my way over to Rosie's private suite. I always check on her even though she doesn't get any feed at night.

But there was no Rosie.

No problem, I ventured out to the new barn addition, which Rosie often meanders to for sun naps.

But still, I did not see Rosie.

This pig can not just vanish. While my other pigs could easily break out of this barn, Rosie is a delicate wildflower incapable of such normal pig behavior.

I looked under hay that had been left on the floor. No Rosie.

I turned, and there she was, a Sleeping Beauty like no other. She had ventured to another part of the barn, an area that had recently been filled with hay, but last weekend we created a semi loft to get more hay off the pallets, and better moving room for woman and animal.

It was the sweetest image-I took these photos. She did not even wake up, she slept through my three minutes of bewilderment. I sat with her for a spell, she hardly let out a grumpf.

Oh! Rosie!

The blessing of daily faces

It's a blessing to live amongst such a diversity of souls with faces that express their own peace each day, because they just get to be.

We are melting but we carry on..and the bunny gets her own AC unit

Freddy the Dream, aka Little Lonely, cools off in his mud hole

I won't write a post about how hard a month August is, I think I did that on August first. But it is very hot, and worse, humid. Out West the summers grew hotter, longer, drier and full of fires every one of my fourteen years there.. People's wells were and are drying up in Oregon, it happened to many people I knew. We had a horrible well, and were blessed with water rights from the rivers for our animals, gardens and vegetables/plants, otherwise, we could not have made it. And digging a new well is expensive, and does not always bring results. It is the risk you take buying land anywhere, but especially out west.

I'm glad to be out of that aspect of The West. It was brutal and just felt like the entire coast was burning up...and it is.

So here, the beast is humidity. Eighty five to ninety in dry air is hot, but yesterday and today the humidity is something like 80 or more percent. Kill me now. It is not as horrible as I remember the Minneapolis summers. Here we have the sea right by us, we do not own seaside land, but we see the cove, and the entire area of Mid Coast is on the sea. So when it is humid, it blows off usually by night, and we rarely have a horrible night. But when the humidity does come, it's like a slap of a huge wet blanket on my head. I can't think. My routine is simple, get up, do the chores, and get back in the house where we have one AC unit that keeps us sane in the living area. Fortunately our house is small. I finally broke down last week and bought another AC unit for the studio in the upstairs, I had too. Not only could I not get any work done, I could barely function, and...there is the bunny factor. Poor Isabelle Noir, aka Bunny, is not good in heat, no rabbit is. I was wetting down her ears about four times a day, and finally I had to bring her downstairs at night. Martyn got a kick out of this,

"Leave it to you to wait to get another AC unit for two years for the studio, but you finally did it...for a rabbit."

Yep, and Bunny and I are now very content. And I got work done.

So, we carry on. I have nothing of interest to tell you today because that is what the heat does to me, it flattens me out. Physically, I am also finding that humidity-when it is really hot and high humidity-is giving me a pressure feeling in my front head, just like I felt after the concussion. I suppose the heat makes blood different and vessels different, and from what I understand, my brain is different after that severe concussion. So, another reason to lay low inside with Bunny,

The animals are fine, they are more stoic than we humans in heat. They know to lay low. I feel sorry for my sheep, I hate to see the wool sheep in heat. Out West we had hair sheep, and it was hard on them, but these poor guys carrying around a load of wool. They do pant, since sheep don't sweat, and I will hose off their legs-not their backs or bodies because you can actually heat them up that way due to the wool. Same thing with the llama, don't wet the wool, just the legs [and she loves it].

I am working on my new book, about White Dog. I will share more about that soon.

Oh Rosie! Conversation with the waking grumpy pig

I often find Little Sylvia Pettini sleeping in the Rosie's private suite...which I guess makes it semi-private. This morning I saw this scene as I walked to the barn and it was one of those put the feed buckets down and take out camera-quickly-before the opportunity to catch this scene evaporates.

"Good morning, Rosie!" I said, in the same sing-song tone my mother used to get me up as a little girl-which now I would love to hear every morning, but in the cold of a Minnesota winter always in the dark it was the gut wrenching reality I had to get up out of my comfortable dream spot.

The expression on Rosie's face as she lay there, awakened by my footsteps, was priceless.

No matter how grumpy she can be, this past year has been my favorite of our years together, including having her on the six day journey east. I truly believe that somehow, something clicked in that pig's mind as we landed on new soil. I don't know why. Because even though she is still vocally grumpy most of the time, and is needier than ever, she has softened to me in some ways-although a visitor might not notice it. Yesterday I was out near the barn and heard her carrying on in true Rosie grumpiness-loud squeals and hrumpfs and such-and I went to see if she was okay. She was laying down but was frustrated because she couldn't get the flies off of her-due to her more arthritic body. She hates to be sprayed, but I coated her in fly spray, then I sang my old Rosie song to her...which I was pleased to see still gave her some kind of calming, and her groans of despair ceased.

What a pig.

Her Grumpiness lets the village know it's toe trimming day

I waited until the nearest neighbors pulled out in their camper for their Labor Day holiday. Then I snuck into her royal highness's stall, while she slept, where she sounded more like a lumber jack than a princess. I got one toe done before the screaming started. If you ever wondered what a prehistoric sea creature sounded like, I would expect it was something like the sound of Rosie getting her toes trimmed.

Such drama.

As she has aged, and become more arthritic, it takes less time. She doesn't have the strength to fight me so we get it done. I've tried all sorts of things to help in the past...beer-she did not like the micro brew so I gave her some cheap beer...nope. But Marcella and Earnest enjoyed a cocktail that night. Had a vet do them once to the tune of $175...yes, that's right, and we did not do that again.

So, it all got done. And I told her in hopes she would forgive me that pumpkin season is upon us. This made her stop grumping at me for seconds, until she waddled back to her favorite sleeping spot, and before I even turned around she was happily snoring like a lumber jack again.

Photobombed by a piglet and Earnest gets an edible fort

I was admiring the already growing pig pool, noticing that Eleanor had started her pool and then the piglets were creating another above it, almost creating a waterfall effect from upper to lower. In time, that pool will hold all nine piglets. I won't let you down and will get a picture of it as summer heats come on. If you don't have pigs, I will tell you that if you give them even drippings of water, by a faucet for example, they will make a wallow in no time. They use their strong snouts to dig the dirt. It is really fun to watch, and also makes you understand quickly the challenges of containing pigs due to those strong noses. They can also lift gates, or bend them if they are securely intact.

I was taking a photo of it and a flying bat came across my lens. They are like little bats right now, flying around the paddock at ease, stopping to sniff, then flying the other direction. When they get going all it once it's like a swarm of polk-a-dot flies.

There was great excitement in the barnyard yesterday morning, or was it Sunday? I came out to hear quite a bit of conversation,

"I don't know, maybe she planned it this way?" asked Goose.

"It's a fabulous gift, a tree fort over my water hole, and edible too," said Earnest.

I looked out to see a large limb had cracked off the nearby maple. Thankfully nobody was hurt. Unfortunately there is another larger limb that is dead, still upright and we will have to get help taking it down, sooner than later. I'm afraid it could easily pierce the barn, or take down the coop roof.

It's always something.

But for now, I imagine Earnest lying under his edible tree fort, sitting in his pig pool, nibbling on maple leaves as he cools his body in the heat.

Little shares his mobile milk bar

That's Little on the far right.

Little was born 15 weeks ago on the coldest night of the season, and all his litter mates died of hypothermia. He struggled a bit in his first days, but he made it. I named him Little Lonely because certain situations require a name and he was so small, and alone. Once you see a litter interact, to see only one with nobody showing him the ropes was sad. But he's a chunk now and in the past few days, the new litter of his grandmother, Eleanor, has been allowed to romp and run outside for the first time. I underestimated how happy it was to see Little with his own kind, a litter he never got to have [which is why he is now a super chunk]. This morning as Eleanor took a break in her wallow-it is very hot today-Cornelia snorted around for dropped feed, and Little graciously allowed the litter to snack on his private milk bar. I sat and imagined the conversation.

"Wow, you're a huge piglet," said one of the litter.

"I'm older than you, I think that's the reason," said Little.

"You have your very own milk bar, wow," said the largest piglet.

"It's okay to have some milk, but don't take it all," said Little.

"What are we going to do today?" asked the little red runt girl, politely.

Just then she got bashed by her bigger brothers, and Little touched her nose.

"You took a direct hit, but you're okay," he told her.

"I'm used to it, but I have gilt power," she said.

Just then Cornelia made an about face and the milk bar was once again on the run.

"It's hard eating and running, isn't it?" asked Little as they all ran by the running teats.

Faces...or should I say 'noses"?

Animal conversation of the day

"Who are you?" said Opie.

"What are you?" asked the piglet.

"Well, I'm an Opie," said the little goat.

Big bottom Littles and piglet mayhem

It's going to get wild around here very soon....I guess it already is, but even more so. The piglets are eight days old and are starting to leap and explore in the stall. They are not outside yet as I have to create a separate safety zone for them. I let Eleanor out once a day to roam a bit but she needs to feed every two hours and if she doesn't, bam, smash, she'll go right through the wood gate to get to her babies.

Meanwhile, Little Lonely has a fine butt, don't you think? You can see it waddling in the final movie below. He is still very polite, but also he and his mother Cornelia now bash each other around a bit at dinner time-normal behavior. In fact Eleanor bashes her daughter Cornelia around at dinner. Can you imagine having to bam your mama in the head to get more food at the cereal bowl? She hasn't totally weaned him, and I've always been one to let animals naturally wean-if I can. So he is a chuck!

All the nine piglets are doing well. They are available so if interested you should contact me.

A post shared by Katherine Dunn / Apifera Farm (@katherinedunnapiferafarm) on May 28, 2017 at 12:19pm PDT

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A post shared by Katherine Dunn / Apifera Farm (@katherinedunnapiferafarm) on May 31, 2017 at 6:49am PDT

Death comes in waves-we lose the runt and an old Rosie the goat

I don't know why death seems to come in waves-perhaps it helps us focus to the tasks on hand.

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.

{There are ways to support my animal efforts}

Eleanor delivers ten!

I knew when I left her last night she was ready. Eleanor is not one to lay down for belly rubs, never has been. But last night when I checked on her before calling it a night, she was laying down and didn't bother to get up. She seemed to appreciate a belly massage.

I checker her tweets and they had milk.

Well, that was a give away.

It was day 115 and she always farrows by day 116. And she had discharge. She got up and I was checking for heartbeats for fun, and she tossed her head into my leg, a clear sign she was ready for me to leave and give her the space she wanted.

I discussed the situation with her. Eleanor is stoic, calm and a very good mother. I knew she would do the job and do it well, and she did.

The weather was perfect for farrowing, unlike the night Cornelia lost all of her litter except Little due to hypothermia.

When I arrived this morning, I could not wait to open the door, and there they were, up and about, strong and healthy. There were ten of them, which is a very big litter.

"It's a basket of pigs," Martyn said as he went off to work.

There are four boys and six gilts. The more girls the better. I must say, the markings are just wonderful, lots of waddles [which really means nothing but they are fun]. I'm very happy for Eleanor that all is well, and this litter is really up and about and doing well and not even a day old.

Mother creatures are heroes. I was thinking this morning of all the animals in the wild that birth on their own, and stoically carry on to fend for their young, and keep food in their own bellies along the way. I learned way back in our first lambing seasons to give the mother space, be aware of the conditions and situation, but stay out of the way unless it is dire. I roll my eyes thinking of the first lambing, the ewes must have been talking behind my back,

"I wish she would just leave us alone, if she checks my udder one more time I will scream."

I took the afterbirth and fed it to the chickens. Our eggs will be nourished my Eleanor and the life she gave us today.

Earnest the happy wallower

A post shared by Katherine Dunn / Apifera Farm (@katherinedunnapiferafarm) on May 19, 2017 at 6:53am PDT

Just a guy and his private wallow. Every guy needs one.

Earnest and I wait, and I will make a covenant with the sea today

Earnest and I are awaiting the arrival of Eleanor's piglets. I thought she was due on Monday, but I looked at my farrowing calendar wrong and she is due early next week. She is huge and while I had her in her farrowing stall for days, I let her out yesterday so she could wallow. Her belly is low to the ground and I've felt the little buggers inside moving a bit. She is getting a puffy posterior and is holding her tail upright, another sign she is close.

It's very busy here, May always is on any small piece of land. And I'm behind. We got the veggie area tilled and fenced and this weekend I will plant. I always had my entire garden planted by 4/15 in Oregon, but things are different here. Today is 90 degrees! I need a wallow. I had planned to go get my seeds, but instead, I feel a strong pull from the sea. I have had some things I need to work on, as in self realization and goals, and today I decided it's so hot, too hot for me to be planting, and I just kept hearing the word "sea" in my head.

I will go to the sea and I will make my wishes known to her, and tell her I need help and strength...and focus, to make them come to the light. I have been wanting to begin my communing relationship with her, something I didn't get to take advantage of in Oregon. But I sense now is the time for this.

Earnest's pig love song: can Rosie share love after all these years?

A post shared by Katherine Dunn / Apifera Farm (@katherinedunnapiferafarm) on May 13, 2017 at 9:11am PDT

In which Earnest the pig tells of his attempted flirtation with The-World's-Grumpiest-But-I-Am-Fine-As-I-Am-Pig, aka Rosie.

I have been watching her all these years, since back in Oregon. She is not really a looker, as Eleanor is, I do like the looks of a red head I must say, but sometimes in a new environment a pig can get a second look.

She is grumpy. This can be problematic in pig love making. Perhaps it was my first Maine spring, after a long, dark and chilly winter, that made my loins itch for her. I waddled over to her area last week and watched her casually from across the fence-a fence that protects her from me, and every other creature. Rosie is not mean, she just doesn't quite understand the beauty of reciprocating attention with other creatures. Only Stevie seemed to be able to discuss life issues with her, or sleep without being compromised by her gruffness. He was a hell of fellow, that Stevie.

We had warm weather again. This intensified my itching loins. I made my move. I put on my best performance of a love song I heard my father sing to my mother. I hardly remember my father. He was stern, but I do remember that love song he sang. He too was across a fence, and it made me wonder why the guys always get on the other side of the fence. I was a piglet, and that was the last I remember seeing him.

I sang that song to the best of my ability. It did not phase her...at least not that day. She continued to ignore me and ate the left over dinner of White Dog.

I do understand that most often food comes before love to a pig.

The next day, I returned to give it one more shot. Rome was not built in a day, they tell me. Well, to my surprise she was there at the fence.

"What brings you to the fence line this morning, Rosie?" I asked, quietly. We have all found the best way to address the grumpy pig is to speak softly. This saves our energy in case she does a rant or head toss in one's direction.

"I am not sure, but I felt enticed by something to venture to the fence," said Rosie.

"Shall I come by again, then, in the coming days?" asked Earnest.

"I suppose that will be acceptable," said Rosie, and she returned to her private suite, to nap, all grumpy like.

But I did notice a slight lightness in her step.

{Like all Apifera stories, this is to be continued.}

A post shared by Katherine Dunn / Apifera Farm (@katherinedunnapiferafarm) on May 13, 2017 at 2:23pm PDT