My little sick calf No 31 didn’t make it through the night.
And all the pigs have been taken to the butcher.
The barnyard seems lonely, deserted.
Even with the three remaining calves that follow me around like puppies (I wonder what that will be like when they are full grown), our 40-some laying hens, and a handful of barn cats it’s just too dang quiet out in the barn.
We began deconstructing the electric fencing for the pig pasture in order to open up a third pasture for the remaining calves. That should keep them busy as long as things stay green.
Perhaps tomorrow I’ll let the chickens free range the barnyard and pig pens just to liven things up a bit.
I feel sick over losing our calf. We did everything we knew how to do (consulting the vet and farmer friends and books, getting his tests done, administering meds, giving electrolytes as often as he’d take them and hand feeding), but in the end it wasn’t enough. His little life seems like a valuable price to pay for our inexperience. But we have learned and things will go differently next time, Lord willing.
We’ve lost pigs and chickens and meat birds, but none seemed as hard as this one. Way back when we raised our first pigs, our pig farmer gave us good advice. “Livestock equals deadstock.” Loosing an animal is a part of the life, not always avoidable, and a sobering reminder of our own mortality. I’m so thankful for our Creator God who cares for the sparrow, cared for my little calf, and He cares for His children so much more infinitly better than I ever could.