A day of sunshine in December would typically be a day worth celebrating. We would ditch the heavy coats and do anything and everything to absorb those amazing rays before they dip back behind the clouds for the season. Today, though, it’s hard to be excited by the weather.
Last week, we found Bragg with a gnarly bite and puncture wound. We called all of the local vets, but no one could see him in a quick turnaround. This has been an ongoing problem for with the goats and dogs since the start of the pandemic. For the very first time, though, we absolutely could not find a solution.
We brought him inside the house, cleaned him up and made him a bed in our half bathroom. For a week, we fed him water and food with a syringe. We encouraged him to stand up and walk. We took him outside for sunshine and made sure he had visits with Benning. Sadly, though, his wound opened up yesterday and began bleeding worse than ever. His breathing was labored. And, this morning, we had to say ‘goodbye’ to him.
Baby Bragg exploring the garden 
Sneaking out of the chicken coop after raiding the feeder 
Cleaning up leftover cow milk in Isai’s truck
Over the summer, Bragg really grew into his own personality and farm cat style. He went from being the most shy barn cat we’d acquired to being at our heels whenever we were outside. He was sweet and funny. The farm simply won’t be the same without him. Bragg, we love you, buddy.
To make the day worse – because it can totally be worse, right? – we also lost a bottle calf today.
Chuck 7 came to us after a difficult birth. He hadn’t received colostrum from his mother and he developed noticeably slower than the other calves. We’d noticed that he’d been weak for several days. Multiple times, Aaron and my dad had to force him to drink milk replacer. He would drink water. He’d eat grain and hay. We attempted electrolytes, some meds and continued giving him bottles despite weaning the others. Sadly, he didn’t make it. Aaron found him later – only adding to the sorrow of the day.
We knew when moving to the farm that the death of animals would be something we’d see more often. We didn’t though, anticipate all that we’ve experienced this year. When you’re “locked down” at home and caring for the animals is very much the routine and escape from reality – it’s hard to say you don’t care for them. It’s hard to completely disconnect from humanity in that way.
We’re sad. Today has been hard. We can only hope that our buddies have found better on the other side.