Since The Storm

The internet on the ranch has been in and out since we were struck by lightning three weeks ago, I seem to only catch the "out" times.  The ranch has changed dramatically in that time.  Tours, service learners and alternative spring break groups have swarmed the ranch filling it with the buzz of children's screams and laughter, mostly as they attempt to pet the goat kids or convince Gobi the camel to give them a kiss.

The kids (both kinds) have added a new dimension to the livestock position on the ranch.  In the winter slow months we usually worked only from eight in the morning until four in the evening with a leisurely hour and a half lunch.  Now it seems we are always running around barely able to complete a task before two more things need to be accomplished.  We milk the goats and bottle feed twenty kids twice a day on top of feeding and monitoring the rest of the livestock and moving filthy chicken tractors.  This sandwiches our other tasks of fencing, mucking, trimming hooves, fecal samples etc.  Our days now sometimes last twelve hours.

I love the work here and there is a wonderful sense of community among the volunteers and staff but I find myself becoming exhausted with the amount of stimulation that exists.  I recently asked to be moved to a smaller house away from the other volunteer houses with no other roomates.  The overactive house with twelve residents was too much at the end of a busy day. I now live in a house by the road known as "Gate House", so I'm calling myself the gatekeeper.  This is mostly due to the fact that I'm so easily scared by surprise by visitors that I constantly monitor cars passing to make sure no one sneaks up on me.  Every car that passes notices my face in the window, peering out from the blinds.  I feel like a creepy hermit neighbor who monitors all the children on his lawn.

Today was a very emotionally exhausting day for me, as we had to euthanize one of our barely two-week-old goat kids due to health problems.   Her name was Ethel and she had not received colostrum from her mother when she was first born.  The first milk from the mother provides the nutrition and antibodies goat kids need to grow and prosper.  After two days of not eating we had transferred her and her sister Lucy to bottles but Ethel never recovered.  While all the other goat kids ran around and jumped off the walls Ethel layed listless bleating occasionally.   She wasn't able to walk and didn't start taking down  a full bottle until a couple days ago.

She was a beautiful little goat the only black one we had, with a long narrow face like a horse.  She had become a favorite of volunteers and visitors who would ask daily about her health  I made it my goal to revive Ethel and went in with her four or five times a day to help her feed and stand her up to try to build muscle,  I became a goat physical therapist.   In the evenings when no one was at work I would go and sit with Ethel in the show barn and tell her she needed to prove everyone wrong and recover.  When I left I would set her on the side of the barn and Lucy would go and nuzzle her and snuggle up behind her.  Lucy rarely left Ethel's side.

Today, without warning, the farm director went in the scooped Ethel up and set her in his car.  I realized she was missing and called to find out what was happening.  He hadn't realized that no one had been told she was going to be euthanized, so he turned around and brought her back for a goodbye.  I was the only one in the barn so I got the final goodbye,  I held her and told her I was sorry none of our efforts had helped and how sorry I was that she had been in so much pain.  I took off her collar, set in the car and walked home with tears running down my face.

I guess we all learn the lesson of not getting too attached to animals in a livestock operation at one point or another.  At the ranch we refer to euthanizing as "going to college".  I'm sure this is not the last time I will learn this lesson.

When I went to the show barn this evening to see the goat kids I saw Lucy laying in the spot I always placed Ethel at night.  At least I'm not the only one who misses her.