Against all the odds, and rattling like an old train when he drinks (antibiotics are not helping him – they seldom do help such young bony animals) The Little Bobby is still alive.
Yesterday afternoon I shifted him into the small pen close by my bedroom window and gave him small sips of colostrum (I have jars of frozen colostrum in my freezer) . This is the last weapon in my arsenal.
He is by far the worst affected because of his small size but he continues to fight (he came in weighing 58 pounds and the man said no-one else bid on him at the sale because of it). His diarrhea continues unabated and he suffers silently and stoically.
I brought him into this outside pen close to the house (with a little hut) so he could die outdoors. but stay isolaated from the other animals, having a sick animal on the farm terrifies me. But I feel strongly that animals, when they die, and we all will, need to be able to breathe clean air and see the stars.
Not die in a nasty dark corner of the barn surrounded in flies.
This is what I would want for myself. To die inside would be hell for me and my children and my husband have been instructed that if we have the chance and the choice to carry me outside or at the very least make sure there is an open window close to me. And never, never let me die in a hospital.
Goodness I am maudlin this morning. But we should all make these decisions and leave instructions with our kin, just in case.
But the animals cannot choose so I choose for them and even though the Little Bobby has battled on this long and I will continue to battle with him, if he is to die today, at least he is lying under a tree wearing his warm jacket until the sun comes up, with cats in the branches and dogs close by. He can hear the roosters crowing and he can hear me moving about. Surely that is better.
Three of the other calves in the West barn, though still having bouts of scours, get up the moment I enter the barn and are eating and drinking with vigour. One I am having to force to eat but I have decided to switch her to colostrum too today. They all still get three big drinks of electrolyte a day and small milk drinks the other three feeds. There first feed is at six and the last one at about 11.30pm so it is a long day. We are under the care of the vet and doing everything we can. It is all about the fluids. As much electrolyte as possible is the most important thing, then some food.
The bottles are warm now so I shall get going.
I hope you have a lovely day. I have already found loveliness in the sunrise. The Little Bobby and I watched it rise during his pre-dawn feed which he drunk enthusiastically.
Much love
celi
The Kitchen's Garden 
86 responses to “Still alive”
At the beginning of my day and toward the end of yours I have just put a glass of water filled to the half-way point onto my writing desk: is it half-empty or half-full ? I refuse to be negative for myself or for you and yours and do hope for the latter . . . .
Sometimes the only thing left that you can do is be kind. I know it’s exhausting and mentally stressful but you will never regret the doing as you would if you hadn’t.
It’s funny isn’t it, how connected to the outdoors we all are, somewhere deep inside us. I would not consider myself an outdoors-type person at all, but I have often thought that when my time comes, I should like to be outside, with the rain on my face. I love the rain, its smell, its sound, its feel – as long as it doesn’t go on too long and start causing problems! I love the sun too, but I think if I was dying I would prefer the rain. And hopefully no pain – I don’t fear death, but I do fear pain. Sending good wishes over to you that its not Little’s time just yet,and he’ll get to be around on the Farmy a while longer.
Lovely words.. thank you miss kitty.. c
Read this late in the eve. That little calf is so lucky to have you. I appreciate all that you do !
I hope Little pulls through, he seems to want to. Pick some of those lovely bright nasturtium flowers and put them in your salad for some color and a bit of peppery flavor. mine never even germinated, too sodden and the seeds just rotted in the soil. Take care of yourself too, Celi.
Such a beautiful piece of writing Celi. You balance compassion and realism so well.
Like everyone else who has written a comment, I applaud your sentiments with which I agree wholeheartedly.
I sure hope he makes it! Farming sure tugs on the heart.
I had to smile that Boo was on duty. I love that about him. A Ton. He’s always nearby, those perky ears on high alert. I’ve been away a few days, it’s good to see the piglets looking so healthy, and chicks, too!