We lose Roscoe

Roscoe, one of the elder goats, showed signs late yesterday of having stones, a serious situation. I gave pain meds and this morning was able to get my emergency vet here. I knew it was probably going to end like this, but he was in dire pain.The x-ray showed his bladder was 6 ml wider than what is considered a bad enlargement, and showed signs of multiple stones some large. Even if I had wanted to do surgery [I did not due to his age and chronic issues] she could not have opted to because his electrolytes were already messed up. As she put it, even with surgery many continue to have these, and the smaller goats are problematic for recovery. We talked about my feed and I wasn't really doing anything wrong, but for the boys I'm going to switch to more hay and as little pellet as needed and only if they lose weight. I'm so glad he could die here. My vet agreed, and she said the 2 hour ride to the clinic would have been horribly painful for him. I'm a firm believer in letting them die here, and am also a firm believer in not over-vetting - that is a very personal choice for every sanctuary and animal owner.

So this is one of those things that has ended in relief for animal and human. It is always hard to see them in pain, so when he went under, I was so relieved for him. His belly was way extended which she noticed right away which was from him pushing out trying to get relief.

I buried him with a polk-a-dot blankie.

It was a tiring day. We got a lot of stall pre-winter clean up done which was tiring. Ready for a fire and a glass of wine.

When he went under, he turned his sweet little ol' head towards me, and kind of curled it over, like a swan. He looked so peaceful.

Old goat's view of death...in honor of Dorphy

I heard the voice of Earnest the pig, talking to me through a cracked window in the living room.

“Mrs. Dunn, you are needed in the barn...now. Dorphy has to talk to you,” said Earnest.

When I got to the barn, I could tell something was off. It was silent, but then I heard a bleat from a goat–it was Dorphy, one of the elders.

“Mrs. Dunn, today is my day,” the old goat said.

Dorphy was lying in one of the smaller rooms of the barn, a normal gathering spot for the animals in the front barn. The Goose was close by. I had noticed The Goose was staying close to Dorphy in the last months and I knew what that usually means–an animal is ill or transitioning. I had seen it over and over-he gravitates to the needy, and watches over them if needed. He did this with Birdie the llama, the old pig, the cancer ridden dogs and many goats. I learned right away that The Goose was a very good  hospice caretaker. The night before, I noticed Dorphy walking very slowly to the barn, with The Goose walking slwoly with her.

“It’s a good die to go,” said the old goat Poetry.

“I think so,” said Dorphy.

Hannah came running over to Dorphy.

“Where are you going?” the little youngster asked.

“I am dying today,” Dorphy said.

“Mrs. Dunn, Dorphy is dying!” Hannah cried.

“Child, do not cry for me, smile for me. I have all I need here, and I will have all I need there,” said the old goat.

“You mean...you’re going to Here There Everywhere?” asked Hannah.

“That’s right,” said Dorphy.

“Well that’s different. That’s were White Dog is,” said Hannah.

“And Birdie the llama! And my mama!” said Ollie the goat.

“Are you scared?” asked Puddles the goat.

“Well, it is the unknown. But it feels more like a trip, an adventure...” said the old goat.

“I think of death thay way too, Dorphy,” I said. “I guess the only thing is I can’t share it with anyone left behind. I can’t wite a story about it, or paint a picture.”

“But isn’t that the beauty of it?” asked Earnest the pig. “It is all yours, and yours alone.”

I spent the morning in the barn, finding little chores to do so I could look in on Dorphy every so often. She was in and out of sleep, and in time, the sleep was taking over. Earnest the pig was nearby, writing in his journal, Pickles and Puddles were chasing flies, the rooster was crowing and Henneth the blind chicken was sitting on her nest attempting to lay an egg. Life was all around us.

Dorphy suddenly perked up out of sleep and said, “It’s like falling asleep while your family and friends are still laughing and talking in the living room. It’s like a lullabye. It’s like leaving the party first, that’s all.” And she lay her head down, and died.
 

Pickles' pickle and we enter busy-busy season

Yesterday we did major spring clean out of goat barn, taking out the deep bedding I use in winter to help with warmth. I take it all out in spring to help with lice. So I timed it so I'd clean it all out, about 2 hours of time, and then we could rush to feed store to get summer bedding...on arriving back at farm, there were some very familiar looking wide short bodies rushing back inside the enclosed fence...

meaning they were outside the gate.

The slider door had not latched-we've been having trouble with it. Martyn has since fixed it but I nearly died seeing them out of their protected area. Fortunately they went to the back of the barn and not 100 feet out to the busy road.

All is well.

Upon reentering the barnyard, I caught this picture. Pickles looks extremely proud of her recent pickle, don't you think?

I'm spending today getting new bedding in. It works great for the pigs and is fresher and cleaner. We put about one inch of equine bedding pellets down, which will crush over time, and then top it off with about 5 inches of cedar dust. I was never a fan of sawdust in equine stalls, seems in cleanup you lose a lot of it. But this works great and last well all winter with the three pigs. The biggest mess maker is The Goose who insists on bathing in the water and it gets all over. I've tried so many ways to aleviate it but nothing works perfect. Anything to keep The Goose happy though, right?

I'll also be doing spring shots and deworming for the goats this coming week or two. I don't do the horses but do all my own maintenance on goats. Feet trims too will be done. 

 Martyn's been splitting wood all day. Got another cord out of fallen wood from last summer.

So we enter the busy time-spring...shots, annual horse tests and vet care,  sheering of llamas and sheep, spring shots and garden and barn yard cleanup. We are still trying to get vaccinated and someone gave me an insider tip on getting into Walgreens so I will try that this week. We are pre-registered in hospital and they hope that will happen by end of month. I hope many of you have been able to get vaccinated. I am envious each time I see a friend getting it done, but happy for them too.

Goodbye Moose....

Taken last night...the last photo of Moose

I had to say goodbye to a friend today. Moose is gone. On the one hand I’m relieved for him, on the other it is sad it came to this. Once a spitfire of a little goat, he got through goat polio in March but was never quite the same even though he responded to treatment. Then two weeks ago it was like he relapsed and we treated him again but he did not improve. He was neurologically damaged somehow unable to do basic things like eat, backup, drink normal and he was constantly grinding teeth a sign of pain. He gets stuck in corners because he couldn’t figure out how to back up. My vet and I assessed it all and we had run out of realistic options.He might have had a brain tumor that was causing the symptoms. So I let him go. It was sad.

Moose came to me as a baby...my mother had died and I wanted a baby goat in the mix that would grow old with me...so I secretly found one, and at the same time Martyn found one for me. Moose was born on my bday and Goose was born on Martyn’s. Moose was such a personality that his last months were hard to watch. The herd knew he was damaged and he was getting pushed around a bit more. We put him down outside under the lilac. I sat with for awhile after he died...and I noticed that the goats were not that interested in viewing the body as is the ritual here. I really think they knew days ago Moose has already left...he was not the Moose they had known. He is pain free for that I am relieved

What should we name her? And Opie's special request.

Joliet and Auntie Bea the elders, and the baby

We brought home three more goats. Two are elders and I treated myself to one of the available babies. I like to balance out elders with youth, just like it should be in life [and I wish our elder care system in USA was more like in Europe where nursery's are housed near or within elder homes]. I am expecting some losses this year, hard losses. I don't tell you everything...that is a burdone I don't think you need. But I wanted a youngster to add to my mix....selfishly for me. So there.

But I haven't named her. It takes time sometimes, but I do need a name. She is active, pretty fearless but not a boss mare type [yet]. She is joyful. She is a delight to watch romp and twist and I'm soaking in those moments since they don't last. I hope Opie will play with her. he is surrounded by elders and I also thought a young girl would give him some fun in coming months and years. I picked her because I loved her markings. In show world-something I am not opposed to but never had any feelings towards- I am told that due to the fact her 'belly band' is not what it should be she would get marks against her. But I love it, especially now as we face, as a nation, a crucial time in understanding our black brothers and sisters and all people of color. It should be equal, like her little body of black and white, but it isn't...yet.

And then the elder two. Well, the black one came with the name Joliet and I like that. Joliet is so sweet. She had to be nursed back to health due to rotten teeth and that is why she is quite personable. In fact on arrival, she kept by my side as introduction were made, and still does. She is not a bossy girl at all. I like her already.

The buff elder came with a name I can't even remember but did not resonate [no offense to the past names, I just feel an animal takes on a new life and for me the naming is or can be symbolic of that if needed.] This old girl bred out babies her entire 10 years. That's a lot of work for a little body like that so she gets a nice retirement now. I had picked out the name June, sine it is that month.

But then Opie came to me, quietly, away from the earshot of the others.

"Mrs. Dunn," he said, " I was thinking."

This felt like another Andy of Mayberry moment [he is named after Opie in case you missed that].

"I know this is my herd family here. But I did come from a mom. And she had a sister. Since I'm the littlest one here, and the youngest, sometimes I wish I had my mom and Auntie around," he said.

"I know that feeling, Opie," I said.

"Really? I was wondering if we could call June something else...like Mom, or Auntie?" Opie asked.

I thought for seconds. Years ago we had an old goat that fell ill, I loved her a lot, and we tried in vain to save her over a month long bought,  and she fought so hard. I had named her Aunt Bea.

"How about we name her Auntie Bea?" I asked.

"Okay!" said Opie and he ran off to the barn.

I turned to go back to the house and aw the new arrivals out in the orchard, and Opie was running up to who had once been June and he said,

"Mrs. Dunn says you can be my Auntie Bea!"

The Wrong Side of the Fence {A philosophical discussion between goats}

Cheese on the right side of the fence

“Out of there, right now!” I said as I came out of the barn to find Opie and Cheese, two stout pygmy goats, with their heads squeezed into the garden fence.

“My head is stuck!” said Cheese.

“Like Pooh!” said little Opie.

I pulled Cheese with gentle force and he popped back out.

“You have all that grass and clover out there, you don’t need to eat my garden,” I said.

“I have clover for breakfast, and grass for lunch–I like daisies for an afternoon snack,” Cheese said.

“The daisies are on the wrong side of the fence,” I said as I huffed back into the barn.

I was working for the next hour in the barn loft and I kept my ears open for any suspect behavior below.

“She sure gets grumpy about her daisies,” said Cheese.

Just then Ollie bounded in and said, “DAISIES?! Where?”

“You can’t have any, they are on the wrong side of the fence. We are on this side, and the daisies are on the other side,” said Cheese.

I came down from the loft just in time to partake in this philosophical discussion.

“How do you know what side of the fence is wrong, or right?” asked Opie.

Just then Earnest the pig sauntered into the conversation.

“We are on the right side. Whatever side we are on, is right, or we would not choose to be here,” the pig said. “Therefore, the daises are actually the ones on the wrong side and can be eaten,” and he left to take his usual afternoon nap.

I rolled my eyes and said, “Let me put it another way– you are not allowed to eat anything past the fence, period. That’s my garden and my flowers.”

“You can’t own the flowers,” said Opie. “they are of Earth, they feed the bees too.”

“Which is why you should not eat them,” I said.

“I have many bee friends,” said Opie.

I walked through the garden gate to go back to the house, and cut some of the daisies closest to the fence so the goats wouldn’t eat them.

“My God, you wacked there legs off!” cried Opie.

“I am making myself a bouquet, to enjoy in the house. It brings Nature inside and makes everything better, it makes me happy,” I said. As I shut the door, I heard Cheese say,

“Cutting the flowers makes her happy, but we can’t eat them, makes no sense really.”

A few hours later, I stepped out of the house, and could hear little feet scurrying away, rapidly. It was Opie, running out of the garden. At my feet on the stoop was a haphazard little bouquet of daisies and buttercups.

“I want you to be happy!” said little Opie as he ran for the barn.

How did they get the latch open, I wondered. And then I saw Cheese pushing an old apple crate from the garden gate.

I sniffed my bouquet and was happy.

When a goose and an old goat come knocking and sometimes we fall and tinkle

The Goose and old goat come knocking

“I think you should knock,” I heard a whispering voice say as I stood near the front door getting ready to put on my coat.

“I’m crippled, you do it,” another voice said. I recognized it as Sophie’s voice, the very old goat. Which led me to think she was most likely with The Goose who tended to chaperone her, or any needy animals.

I peeked out the side window. I considered crawling on my hands and knees under the window to get back to the kitchen, but the intrigue of what they wanted got the best of me.

The Goose and the goat, and any barn animals to be clear are not supposed to be at the front door. It is the domain of the humans, and the house dogs. So when they crossed that gate line, it usually was for a reason and I learned over the years not to ignore them.

“What is going on?” I asked, as I opened the door.

“We have an issue,” said The Goose.

“Yes, we need issue advice,” said the old goat.

I sat down on the stoop and shut the door. It was chilly but I enjoyed the winter’s crisp air and I could smell the wafts from the cove.

“I’m listening,” I said.

“Do you have any crackers or perhaps toast in your pocket?” asked the old goat.

“No, is that the issue?”

“Heavens no, that is not an issue, I’m just hungry, you have not given me breakfast yet,” she said.

“I haven’t fed you because I just got up and I’m sitting here waiting to help with your issue!” I snapped.

The Goose took over.

“I have asked Sophie here to be my valentine. There is a dance on Saturday night,” he said.

A dance, I thought. I have not been invited.

“And I’ve been asked by Ollie the goat,” said Sophie. “I accepted both invitations, but I want to go with The Goose.”

Hussy, I thought.

“Why not just all go together, as friends. I used to do that in college and it was more fun than a date,” I said.

“Was that in the World War? I saw a movie on that,” said The Goose.

“No, I was not in a World War, thank you very much,” I said.

Then old Sophie leaned into The Goose and whispered to him.

And The Goose explained, first clearing his long throat. “Ahem. Sophie fell when we practiced the box step. And that made her tinkle in her dance dress. She likes the dances because they bring her warm memories of being at her grandparents’ dances, she likes the music, especially the fiddle.” Goose said.

There’s going to be a fiddle? I thought.

He went on, “She wants me to be her jealous suitor so nobody will dance with her, so she doesn’t tinkle in her pants.”

I held Sophie’s old head, and said, “Ah, lass, we all tinkle in our pants when we fall. I can be Ollie’s date.”

The Goose practices his two step

A farewell to old Else, miscalculations and a window opens

Opie views the body. Right after, he came to my side.

Yesterday I got to the front barn and Else would not eat or take water. I always give her a bucket of water so she doesn't have to walk to water bucket....at least for the past month or so, a clear sign she was getting tired. But yesterday, I chose to lift her and move her into a more draft free corner. She cried, in a pain cry. Else never talks. It was clear what she was saying. I went to house to get pain meds, and the injection made her cry out in a distress cry, not a 'hey that hurt cry'. I tried to adjust her body for her, more terrible pain cries.

I told her I would make it right.

Watching an animal suffer is a horrible position to be in, and I was so lucky that one of my vets was very close by, and she came to put her down. She went out like a bulb. She was more than ready.

I had talked to my vet last fall about putting Else down before winter, and I had that in my head as the right thing to do. But then I started really getting good weight on her [for her, she is very thin] and she seemed to be going outside and enjoying life, even though her crippling condition was getting worse, as we knew it would when we adopted her from a state neglect case. For the past months of winter, it has been okay, she was eating, and had a good demeanor. It was about a week ago though that I could tell she had more trouble getting a position that was comfortable. And then yesterday. There was no question we needed to let go.

I am relieved for her.

I told my vet that I had perhaps done her a disservice not acting sooner, but she just didn't seem ready...vets hear this all the time, knowing it is usually the person that isn't ready. But I really didn't think it was time.

So it was a misjudgment on my part. After all the years of doing this, I guess I'm entitled to some miscalculations.

I feel badly though, because she clearly had a morning of pain. But then a big beautiful sleep, and no pain.

This morning she is still in the barn, covered in blankets, with the chickens sleeping on her-it is a process to bury an animal in winter, but we will in the next day or so. It is never a feeling of closure until they are in the ground. I had Wilbur cremated last winter because it was so impossible to bury him with the heavy snow, and I wasn't going to put him out for Nature [I am not opposed to this option, it just doesn't work well in our setting]. I felt really bad about having to take his body into the clinic, put in a freezer to wait for the next cremation pickup. That is how it works. They do the same thing with dogs. And people. I was so relieved to pick his ashes up.

But I want to bury them if I can, return them to the earth in body, feed the worms and tulips.

This morning I did my chores, and I realized how tired I was. I was moving slowly. I have actually given myself permission to move more slowly during chores, and take moments to look and feel and smell it all in. I don't make morning appointments anymore if I don't have to, I just don't want to rush. I've rushed enough. As I did chores I realized how much care taking fills a space, and when the creature or person is gone there is a big space left. I do not have one moment where I think "I wish I didn't have to care for this animal', never, but there is an initial empty space and a feeling of, "now what?" and then, life steps in...another old goat will come along or crippled one...the space Else left will be taken up by another Misfit who fails, or a new comer. A window will open.

So in a way, I guess her death is one more gift-it opens a space, and leaves behind the memory of her sweet self.

The Goose gives Else one last peck...just to make sure.

How I will remember her

Leaves let go so must we

"Getting old isn't for sissies", my mother used to say. But, like my mother, Sophie puts one foot in front of the other and keeps going, keeps doing what her body wants to do even if it is limited.

A day go, I went to feed the goats in the front stall area, nine of them varying in health and age. Sophie is the oldest in that group and despite the condition she was born with and crippling effects of it, she is not a pushover. But a few days ago I noticed Sophie seemed a bit weaker than her normal state, and yesterday as I walked into the stall, and all the goats circle around and tried to position themselves, Sophie was unable to lift herself up.

I helped her and she seemed fine, but I knew this is a new stage of her elder years.

After my chores were down at the outer barn, I came back to find Sophie cast, outside her barn, laying in wait for me to help her. I got her up and held her and she seemed okay, but she also seemed tired.

I assumed that the slight incline of the terrain there, and the other goats rushing about and bumping into her, caused her fall. So I moved her out to the area where Opie lives with his few chickens, The Goose, and the very elder and frail Else the goat. I was pleased to see Sophie out in the sun this morning, The Goose escorting her around. The Goose and Sophie have a fragile relationship in that The Goose over care takes her sometimes, and then Sophie grabs at his feathers. If I find a clump of feathers, and then find The Goose hiding in the hay room, sullen, I know they have had a slight encounter. It is actually both funny and heartbreaking, as he looks like he really has hurt feelings, and I pick him up and tuck his head into my coat [geese love this swanning position]. No harm is ever done and when I put him down, he waddles off back to his happy Goose self, like a little child who cried over spilled milk but cheers up the instant Mom dries his tears.

You know we have no control of death, or much else. And you know my rule is to not ask any creature to 'not die on me', {note: I have failed at this on occasion} but I have to say I don't want her to die, not yet. But someday she will. They all will. You take the old ones on and you know this. You take the young ones on too and know this but it isn't presented to you on arrival. But you still have to talk yourself down sometimes, reminding yourself what you already know, that there are signs she is transitioning. And even though it might not be this week, or this month, I don't get to pick the date when I say, "Okay, I am prepared now, take her if you must."

Nature is not interested in us being ready for anything. Nature is Nature and allows herself to just be. She doesn't judge us but she doesn't listen to our needs, she is just Nature, there to teach us that leaves let go, and fall, and die, and feed worms and dirt.

Don't put a fear of death on my old goat

If there is one thing I have come to understand about people, or many of them, is they see death as this giant black curtain, the end, the thing to avoid, the thing to prevent at all costs. Nowhere is it more apparent than in how you see people talking about animals on social media [often other people's animals they have no clue of what they speak]. If you have a personal relationship with an animal, that is your relationship, and any covenant you have with them is yours, not mine. The decisions you make about your animals are, I assume and hope, based on experience, your knowledge of the actual animal and your feedback from your vet if needed. And such is the case with my relationships with all my animals. Just because their might be certain things you can do to keep an animal alive for another...3 months...doesn't mean you should, nor does the animal necessarily benefit from it as an animal.

An animal that's growing old, that is clearly coming to the final season, is not asking for pity, prayers or healing. He or she just wants their space and to be able to find a quiet spot if needed, or maybe change their spot if it doesn't feel right anymore. That's my job - to watch that animal as I go about my business and make sure I can accommodate it's needs as it transitions-and it is a transition. Rarely, in my experience anyway, does an animal get old, and boom, die. Just like with people there are shifts in the body and conditioning and all sorts of things before an animal dies. It can take months or years even.

I have written a bit about old Else in the past summer months. I sense it is her final summer. But we are not there yet. Since I am with her daily, sometimes I am immune to seeing some things, that my vet might see when she comes next time. So I always am open to a discussion. She has gotten thinner. I think her body just isn't absorbing the nutrients, which happens in age. She has never been a voracious eater but gets supplements and all the hay she wants. Her front leg is weakening more, her muscle what little she had when she arrived, is lessening.

What is a good life for a goat? Well, just being–A plot of grass, or sand, or shade mixed with sun, fresh water, a place that they know is theirs to go to-anytime-when they need, a human counterpart that is consistent in bringing food and water and is there for them.

Else has more and more chosen to stay in the barn, especially with the heat. Rather than always helping her out, I test her, and if she is pulling back, she seems very content in her barn with the door open to the outside world. A couple days ago, I was really pleased that while I was busy doing chores, she went out on her own to her orchard, and lay down. I've noticed though that rather than waiting all afternoon to let me know it is getting to be time to return to barn [I bring goats back in each night around 5], she might call out to me sooner. It might just be the flies, but she is sprayed well and they seem to leave her alone. At night, I put Opie with her, and The Goose, and Henneth the blind chicken.

No matter what, Else is not afraid of death. She is not thinking about that. Nor does she sit and wish for another summer, because she lives completely in the moment. Animals are often very stoic about pain,so Try to balance that in my perception of her everyday. But I do feel she is very content to separate out a little but more, which to me is a sign she is on her journey of transitioning.

Else

It is what she does. She suns, she naps, she sits looking out of whatever is in front of her. Her vista becomes what is in front of her. Like an elder woman confined to a front porch, she awaits her meals that are brought to her, and needs some help to get up each day. But all and all, I believe she is still content, for now. One day at a time.

As she fades, she is the first I look for her each morning when I open the barn door.

Of the light...Tripod is gone

He is now of the light

I knew. He knew. It was time. There was no movement that didn't look uncomfortable, there was no position he could manage to lie in [and Tripod always had issues with lying down due to his condition he was born with] that was helpful at this point. When we took the bandage of the sore, it had worsened, and was eating into the muscle and body.

The vet didn't hesitate, and I knew she wouldn't. We had done all we could and it was time to let go. And we did.

The vet went out to the truck to get her shots ready, and I sat with Tri one last time. What was so telling is he rested his head against me, something he really doesn't do. I knew he was just tired of hurting. He declined swiftly after the initial sores arrived. His body was incapable of healing them and it also causes him to avoid using the leg at all, which caused the other legs to just weaken, almost overnight. When the drug was administered, his eyes flicked immediately, he was gone. No more pain, what a relief I felt for him.

He had become my buddy ever since I moved him into the hay barn when we lived out West. He was not interested in other goats, probably due to the danger of being knocked over. But in the hay barn, he tendered up and recognized I was there as an ally. When we moved East, he had many good days left, to sit in the sun and sniff the wafts of ocean air. I am so glad he ended up with us and that he was in our lives.

I will miss his sweet little face sticking out of his special cubby. But that cubby is full of other life and we carry on. Each brings new stories and experiences. There's isn't a sun until after the dark night.

Waiting for the vet

Tripod last year helping raise The Holy Child

Tomorrow might be a sad day but we will do what is best

The vet is coming tomorrow to give equine annual shots. I always have my vet do the equine shots, I do everyone else but just don't like doing the equines.

The vet will also help me choose the next steps for Tripod. Tripod was born crippled, with a hind hip and leg that are permanently frozen making him only able to use three legs. But it also compromises his body in other ways, and we knew as he aged it would be more and more problematic. And that day has come. This winter, I was able to keep him from getting elbow sores, since he was lying down all winter. He was not getting other sores and I thought we had jumped that hurdle. But then he got a very bad sore behind the elbow, in the crease and it is not healing. Bed sores are real problem for elder, crippled animals and at some point you are fighting an battle you can't win. So we were struggling with that in the last couple weeks. But what began to happen was his 'good' legs seemed to just become unusable to him, and he can't get up anymore. When I help him up, he cries, and gets agitated, so there is pain. He can't even get up on his front elbows much to eat grass. He wants to come outside, but he tries to get up and gets off balance immediately and falls down on his nose. It's so sad to watch. For the past few days I have been putting him in the clam sled and taking him outside.

So...it might be time to let go and let this beautiful soul be pain free. If his wound is as bad tomorrow as it was last week despite meds and treatment, it might be one more reason to help him fly off.

So please send light to Tripod, and me. It is so hard because despite his crippled condition, he has always had a good life here, and this is not how I wanted him to go out, in pain with sores and such. But we will do what is right tomorrow.

People sometimes ask me how I keep saying goodbye to the animals. How do any of us keep saying goodbye to so many things on a daily basis. We say goodbye to our elders, our mothers, best friends, favorite singers...our pets....Sunday always becomes Monday and we say goodbye to our flat bellies for sinking hips and hurting muscles, we say goodbye to youth, to autumn, we are saying goodbye to Mother Earth unless everyone wakes up...we are constantly saying goodbye. There isn't a moon until the sun sets, and there isn't a goodbye unless there was a hello. If I weren't saying goodbye so much, I wouldn't be letting new things into my life. And when I'm tired of saying goodbye, I'll die.

Opie's Surprise is out!

These two retired elders came to us from the same farm as Opie is from. Opie is thrilled to have some of his great great Aunties or grannies or whatever they are in his home. He was really strutting his stuff when they came. These two old gals have been bred every year and have earned their place in the sun without the worry of childrearing.

The black one had the pedigree name of "She's The One" but the farm's little boy pronounced it Cheese. So I kind of like that. So her name is Cheese.

We've called the other girl Dorphy.

I love them. Goose immediately grabbed onto the blonde girl. So funny. he likes light colored animals!

The goose continues on as caretaker

The goose seems to be continuing her-his care taking role. After first gravitating to Rosie the pig in her final weeks, then Birdie his llama in need, he has now latched on to old Else, who is elderly and crippled and frail. She arrived that way and seems to be growing farther into that state. I do not know if she will be with us in the coming winter, or if it is right to let her go through another winter. But for now, she is able to nap in the sun and lives in contentment. It is just much harder for her to walk, and she seems more tired, taking longer to get up in the morning.

The goose still roams and grazes, but he seems to go back to Else during the day to nap with her, or sun near her side.

It's endearing. I know I have a vivid imagination but I truly feel she-he gravitates to those bodies trying to release. Perhaps it is a smell we humans are closed down to. Perhaps she-he just knows.

The goose has not laid an egg. I have taken to referring to the goose as she-he, or The Goose, or My Grace that is Goose a guy. I suppose by mid summer it will be definitive that she-he is in fact either male or female, and not much will change, since I call her-him simply, Goose.

New Misfits arrive - introducing Jim Bob and Rosco

Rosco on the left, Jim Bob on the right

They landed yesterday after a long journey from their home they had lived their entire lives. Such sweet boys! They were a bit overwhelmed with all the new sounds and chaos-since the goose immediately started honking because Marcella started barking and when Marcella barks, Goose goes on high alert. The poor chaps had not been around dogs let alone geese.

They were well taken care of. In fact, it is sort of a sad story. The family who loved them so much decided they could not care for them because there was a very difficult ongoing health situation, and they had to downsize, keeping only the oldest goat and an old pony with special needs. They were a really sweet family and I tried to reassure her that she was doing the right thing. I think she was reassured, and grateful. But it is a hard decision and I feel badly for what they are going through.

So they are very friendly and sweet –they just need time to settle in and get used to all the activity. They lived in a more remote and isolated barn. In fact they are a bit chubby which is great! Usually elders arrive to me thin and neglected but these two have been well cared for. I really think Rosco might enjoy elder visits so time will tell.

I've been taking short breaks to sit with them and talk to them. This morning Jim Bob was so startled at the barking dog he ran to me! So sweet. So Jim Bob might look like a monkey - and in time I think his real personality will emerge-but he is a softie.

We are grateful we could help this family, and we get beautiful spotted goats in return...they will be well loved.

{Do you like our work here with elder people and animals? Consider a donation to help us, thank you.}

This morning they met Ollie and gang

Photobombed by the goose!

Else is glad it is spring again

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A post shared by Katherine Dunn / Apifera Farm (@katherinedunnapiferafarm) on Mar 26, 2019 at 5:37am PDT

It is finally warm enough to get the crippled elders outside. Else came to us very crippled and old and we knew her front leg would only continue to get worse over time, but last winter was tough on her lying around so much. One of the lifts we had been using for Birdie is now used to give the old girl some help. I don't take it lightly the thread of that-it helped one animal and now it helps another. We carry on. I was pleased that even in the two days Else has been out more, she is walking better.

The queen of the manure heap

You can usually find old Sophie sitting on the manure heap, soaking up it's heat. She is as regal as ever. And look at her beard-it was accidentally sheared off in last spring's sheep sheering. I forget to tell our shearer to leave it...I am surprised at how fast it grew back.

Hail to the Queen of the Manure Pile!

Wilbur gets his wings and Ollie plays in snow

Sophie was his designated hospice nurse

"Wilbur got his wings!" 
Old Sophie told the goats as she came out of Wilbur's convalescing suite. Sophia had been designated as Wilbur's roommate as he lay in his suite, unable to rise, for the past two weeks.

"Will I get wings too?" asked little Ollie.

"Someday, Ollie, but not now, it is not your time for wings, you have to earn them in your own way," said Sophie.

After two weeks of effort, Wilbur is free of his body.

Wilbur began to show signs of his age this past summer, but nothing alarming. Right around when we learned that Birdie had suffered from the brain worm-something that was new to us- I think it was about this time I noticed Wilbur lay down more, but that in and of itself is nothing to be alarmed by with an older goat. He was not lame, he was not showing any signs of the same worm that crippled Birdie for weeks and damaged her nerves. We fortunately got to Birdie quickly, and learned from our vets the protocol and were able to treat Wilbur for the brain worm too. It could be other things. It could be a tumor or wasting disease/cancer, it could be some other diseases my vet said, or a combination, and it could be old age combined with all those things.

For a good two weeks we have fought together, and his eyes and attitude were with me, he had not given up. Until a couple days ago, I could tell he was just plain tired and uncomfortable. I kept thinking of the story of the llama who was downed for one year, and the couple kept trying, and wouldn't give up, and one day, she rose. But Wilbur could not even put weight on his feet, and they were curved now. Since he was downed, I went in morning noon and night and got him up, cleaned his bedding, sat with him, gave hm water and food. The last two days, his body could not swallow, and when the vet came today, we immediately put him down because he was in clear discomfort. I have found a vet I truly love, and I've been working with her now about a year and have learned so much. There is so much to understand about deworming, not deworming, when to deworm or not to, learning your area, etc-and I've learned this year many things that make me a better caretaker, even after 15+ years you can always learn and grow. I don't think any of it would have saved Wilbur, in fact it probably would have just prolonged his life slightly, if that.

I have spent so much time with him, and I have been putting Sophie with him too at night and during the day. While chores are being done, I let the other Misfits come by and visit, and eat together. The animals already know, except Ollie, what is to come. They say their goodbyes in such a different way. They come and sniff a dying member, and there is no drama, just recognition. It is always beautiful and sad too to be part of these intimate herd moments.

With each passing of one of the Misfits that came to us long ago, and lived out West with us, it is like another string to that floating farm in the sky being cut. I will miss this sweet goat. Once a brilliant acrobat, he could fly through the air with the greatest of ease, and once even had a trapeze-it is said in the barnyard but I never got to see it. To watch an athlete's body disown him, it is hard.

This morning, when I knew the vet was coming, I told him his wings were ready for him, they were right with me for whenever he needed them.

And sometime around ten this morning, he put those wings on and took one last look at me. We all stood together and watched the light of the sky change and the shadows on earth were magnified for seconds.

"Will he come back?" Ollie asked Sophie.

"No," she said.

And Ollie ran outside to play on the snowy compost pile.

Once a day, The Misfits were allowed in to eat and commune with Wilbur

In his younger days-he had the sweetest smile

One of my favorite photos of him in his youth

Wilbur aka The Acrobat Goat...now you know why

The aging of the acrobatic goat

He once flew through the air with the greatest of ease, without a trapeze. Now, years later Wilbur the Acrobatic Goat is turning nine and beginning to show his elder status in both appearance and activity level. The other day, someone chewed his bear off a bit, shortening it.

I looked at all of them, lined up, and asked sternly,

"Who is chewing on Wilbur's beard?"

[Silence}

"His beard has shrunk considerably in the last few days," I said.

Opie stood forward. "It wasn't me but I know who it is," and he returned to the lineup.

"Opie, you are complicit by not telling me," I said.

Earnest came froward, "May I ask what the said consequences will be for the said perpetrator?"

"I will scold them," I said.

"Shaming is harmful to young minds!" Opie screamed.

Everyone hushed him up.

"Opie, I think you know more than you are telling, " I said. "I'm going to count to ten, and if a name comes out, everyone will get carrots, even the perpetrator," I said.

"It's ME, It was MEEEEE!" screamed Ollie in joy and he ran forward to get a hug.

So, I sat amongst them, and we ate carrots. And Ollie chewed on my buttons.