The Hopeful Farmer - on Death

 

"Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, "King under the Mountain". Oh, but I'm forgetting; you don't have a mountain, and you're not a king, which makes you...nobody, really."

—The Great Goblin taunting Thorin Oakenshield of his title

   

He was not King Under the Mountain - but he lies buried at the base of one.  It has been a couple of weeks, and I  finally have time to write about Thorin.  He was the gentler of our two llamas, with a friendly demeanor, a goofy face, and the habit of leaving a piece of hay hanging out of his mouth - reminding us of the old Joe Camel advertisements.

Thorin vs. Joe Camel

He taught us a lot - unfortunately one of those lessons was that just because we were giving him medicine, it did not mean he was completely protected from menegial worms.  By the end, he was no longer able to stand - his back legs kept collapsing under him. We knew the end was near one evening when my husband went out to  check the barn one last time for the night and found Thorin had fallen and was laying across the board separating the run-in from the outside.  How long he had been there we do not know - anywhere from 20 minutes to three hours were possible.  It took three of us to get him on his feet, and all the while, his back legs kept giving way.   It was bad.  We had to admit he was not getting better. 

    The next morning I found him down on his side.  I sat with him, put hay near him,  and he ate a little, but drank nothing.  Later that day, our youngest son and I managed to drip some  water into his mouth and get him to swallow.  It was the weekend and my husband managed to get him up into a kush position, and he ate more and drank from a bucket.  Great to see.   Sunday, he was down again - always on his right side, and his eye was swollen from rubbing on the hay on the barn floor.  We got him in a sling, and indeed, without it, there was no way he was getting up.  We put him back in the kush, and  braced him with hay bales.   He was  still as sweet as ever, but  there was no sparkle.  He was unable to move, but seemed to take comfort in having us around.  We told the children to say goodbye.  Our daughter and youngest son were very reserved and matter of fact about it.  I was a mess.

 The ewes kept checking in, perhaps curious why he was just lying  there, and not chasing them around the pasture.
     My husband and I were there Monday when the vet came.  She had us sling him and she confirmed what we knew, and she got her bag.  Sedative first and several doses of a bright blue potion to put him down.  He took a while, but was gentle to the end.  No great death rattle, no fighting, just kushing  while we held him in position and talked to him and the vet gave him the shots.
      This is the part of farming I do not like.  This is the part I do not think I will ever be good at.  When I feed and care for a creature - talking to it, petting it, I become attached.   The death part was a kindness - it was necessary as llamas are meant to run and bounce.  The burying part was horrific.  We had our contractor  did a big hole near Bald Mountain, but we had to get Thorin in the back of the truck, drive him up the pasture,  and put him in the hole.  My adrenaline was practically in overdose amounts as we pushed him in.  I was going to throw up and pass out and shake - but I mainly just shoveled a lot of dirt into the hole.  This was not necessary as Brian was coming up the hill with the bulldozer to cover him, but I was not calm and I needed to do something, and my darling husband just let me shovel.
     There is a silver lining.  The other llama, Elrond, is doing exactly what he is supposed to be doing and bonding with the flock.  He is on pasture with the ewes, and  sleeps  just outside the rams' pen, in the doorway to the run in.   He will keep the sheep as safe as a llama can.
     No folks, I am not good at this death thing.  I do much better with the living.

More visitors!

     This weekend we have Drew's dad and step-mom up for a visit.  We went to my daughter's swim meet Friday night.  The girls  swam well; the other team was much smaller, and our team won easily.

Our girl at the end of the meet.

Hanging with Pop pop

This morning we took them to see the farm.  Thorin, our sick llama, had a rough morning.  He was lively, but fell  out in the field.  He got up eventually, but you can see how unsteady his posture is.

    We spent a bit of time in the barn as the rain spat down.  Rosie seemed to think Pop pop smelled familiar - perhaps it was his sweater?   

Soon all the girls wanted to hang out with him!  

Judy went out into the  pasture, but the llamas did not  come in.  Alex, in the background, went to try to coax Thorin, but no, neither he, nor Elrond, were interested in meeting new folks. 

   After a trip around the farm, we had a warm lunch and this evening, they are off to see my husband in the last weekend of his marvelous show, Mr. Hart and Mr. Brown.   It has been so nice to have friends and family able to join us an see our small holding and spend time to visit with us. 

A good weekend

   The university has a mid-semster break built into the schedule, right around midterms.  This weekend was that break.   We had visitors for a bit of that time.  The friend I have known longest in this world (outside of family) came for a visit, with her mother.  My mom came out as well, so we were all able to catch up.

 We went to see my  husband's show - very good.  And we spend some time in Cooperstown, looking at architecture, taking a ride on the Glimmerglass Queen,  and enjoying perfect Autumn weather.

a small tower best seen from the water

  After our guests left, I got caught up on some chores.  We spent yesterday setting some hay by for the winter.  We loaded and unloaded about 50 bales - the first of many trips to our local hay farmer.  We also harvested good number of wild grapes from the farm.  Although this has been a terrible year for apples - too many late frosts, I think, it was an excellent year for grapes. I got a nice crop from my  concords in the back yard as well.

wild grapes from the farm.

concords from the garden
    Last night I began the sorting process and started  the juice bag for the concords which became jelly this morning.    I have so many wild grapes, I may make a batch of jelly and make some  wine as well.

     



     

  It has been a busy summer into autumn.       

A quick catch up:  

The sheep are growing.   

I occasionally baked a pie.

This llama - Thorin - is sick.  He contracted menegial worms, which  mess with his spine, and could  end in death.  We are working hard to prevent that, with lots of meds,  and vet visits.  His back legs still drag or he bumps his hind feet into things, even after  two major rounds of Panacure, and Ivermectin.

We have had large yellow lawn ornaments in the pasture most of the summer.  We are now on the last phase as the guys finish up turning one side of the marsh land back into a pond.

 The children are already looking forward to  winter skating - as am I!

 I designed a lot of shows for Chenango River Theatre, like Unnecessary Farce

The Marvelous Wonderettes: Caps and Gowns

Heroes

Mr. Hart and Mr. Brown

and Design For Living for SUNY Oneonta, for which I currently have no photos.

Our little man celebrated his 9th birthday.  I would love to say that  his big present elicited this response, but, no, it was the packages of Pokemon cards

We are all keeping busy: sabbatical for my husband,  various sports, plays, and riding  lessons for children, and I just started rehearsals for Into The Woods, in which I shall be Jack's Mother.  

More later...

When Rabbits Scream and other things you don't want to hear.

     Mom was visiting this weekend but needed to be leaving by 7:15 a.m. today.  So after awakening at
6:30 a.m. - I popped up and started the morning routine.
6:32 a.m. - make the coffee
6:33 a.m - let the dogs out
6:34 a.m. - change the cat's water, feed...wait, why are the dogs growling and barking?  That is the wrong timbre for play.
     Hear a God Awful scream of terror
6:34 a.m. - look out the window and see them chasing something - see it try to escape and get stuck in the fence.
6:35 a.m. - race outside in pajamas and slippers and start yelling at the dogs (as quietly as I can so as not to wake the neighborhood) to, "Drop it, stop, let it go," and other useless sentences, as they had no intention of letting it go.
6:36 a.m. - get to the fence and find a wild rabbit half way through the  chain link fence, with my larger dog, Annie, trying to pull it out.  She was certainly not trying to be helpful to it, so I grab her collar and start hauling her up the hill to the house.  Meanwhile, Libby, our little dog, is investigating the smell, but not trying to get at the rabbit.   After much pulling, yanking, dragging, and a touch of cursing, I get the dogs into the house.   Meanwhile  Mom is in the kitchen asking what is going on and if she can help.  My only thought, and thus only directive, was to keep the dogs in the house.
6: 40 a.m. - I go back to the fence, and the darn bunny has moved and made things worse.  It tried to escape out of another section of the  fence - which had the same size diamond shape openings as the rest of the chain link.  It managed to get its head shoulders and ribcage through, but was stuck at the hips.  I try pushing, nothing.  I try stretching the wire - I am not that strong.   After about five minutes I go wake up my husband.
 6:46 a.m. - With my husband at the head, and me at the rear, we try manipulating the poor animal's limbs to see if we can twist it or change the width of its muscles to scooch it through.  No go.  This rabbit is not moving.  We discover that the rabbit (possibly in combination with the dog's teeth and trying to squeeze through a too small opening) has lost a  section of fur, and is bleeding.
6: 56 a.m. - My husband gets some tools.  By this time we have wrapped the front of the rabbit in toweling so it won't flail as much.  I am holding its front end and talking to it as my husband starts dismantling the fence; first unclasping it from the tension wire at the bottom, then one woven wire at a time, shifting and unfolding the  "diamond" openings, all the while trying not to accidentally add any extra pressure to the rabbit's abdomen. Eventually we get it free.  Mom is up on the patio asking how things are going, as she has to leave.
7:15 a.m. - Carry rabbit to the garage - stopping to show Mommy - and put it in a box to examine it.  This  thing is in shock,  but aside from the loss of fur, seems okay.  A bit of discussion and we decide it will be best to let it go, rather than try to rehabilitate it in the garage.  (Certain death, if you recall our chicken rehabilitation episode and later debacle).
7:18 a.m. -  Mommy calls goodbye and heads out as we head to the lower forty to let the bunny go.  After being unwrapped and just laying still, it suddenly pops up and scurries off, down the embankment to its warren.
7:20 a.m. - wash hands and get a well earned cup of coffee.

I really hope this rabbit will now think twice about playing "Peter Rabbit" and sneaking under the fence into our version of Mr. MacGregor's garden.

Be THAT person

    I was reading a blog a few weeks ago, and the writer gave everyone "an assignment for the weekend" to compliment a stranger.  She went on to say it would probably be harder for men than women.  It gave me pause.  These are things I see and hear often - people being kind and complimentary.  I do not mean folks are always showering ME with compliments, but I witness a great deal of good in the world.  I wonder if it is there everywhere, and sometime we choose not to see it.
   I teach at a college and while I will grant you that folks in the arts building are often a little more informal than other departments, I also see it out on the quad, in the library - people telling someone what great boots they  are wearing, or how nice they look today. It never occurs to me that this might be something that requires effort.  I think it is just being human.
    Recently, I went to an outdoor gathering and someone was using a scooter chair to get around. They were in a very crowded place, and could not get past a gentleman chatting with his back to the scooter, unaware that he was blocking it.  The person in the scooter could not be heard above the crowd, so I asked if she wanted me to get him to move.  All it took was a touch on his shoulder, and he quickly shifted.  At least three people  told me how nice it was that I would do that.  Why?  Why is something as simple as that exceptional?  Is it because we live with our faces plastered to our electronics? (Yes, I recognize the irony of that as I type a computer blog!)
     I have always said, "My Daddy raised me to be a gentleman." Yes, I am female, but the training is the same.  Hold the door for someone if you get there first.  Help someone with their bags.  Offer an arm to lean on in icy weather.  It is not, nor should it be, an assignment. It is courtesy and is an easy habit to get into. 

some days...

    I had my youngest son harvested a small armload of cattail leaves yesterday.  I have  never tried them for making paper, and thought, "Hmmm, they have great vertical fiber in them,  and I have a seemingly endless supply, so let's try."  I am avoiding using the tops for now, as the fluff will get everywhere.  Yesterday I cut them into smaller pieces and then set them in a pot to soak over night, as I do with most plant fibers for paper.  Small problem: these are water plants, and thus water repellent.  So unless I let them sit for well over a week to rot out, I think I will be boiling them today.
    Funny how some days the most obvious things elude you!