The Circle of Life... and a Trip to Emergency

We've been learning lots about life-- and death-- at the farm this summer.

I've found myself discussing the "circle of life" concept with the kids (yes, that is shamefully borrowed from The Lion King movie).

One of our newly adopted Holstein calves, Kit Kat, died suddenly last week.

Background: Kit Kat and Daisy were only two days old when Jon bought them from an auction house. Each calf cost a mere $25.

They were sold so cheaply because there is no way to tell at that young age whether or not they will be fertile. And calves separated from their mothers so young often don't make it to adulthood. They can be bottle-fed, but while formula gives them basic nourishment it doesn't offer the same health benefits as mother's milk.

Still, we tried. Jon (and sometimes the kids) fed the calves twice daily. When it became apparent that both were sick, we gave them medicine and did what we could. In the beginning, Daisy was the one we were most worried about-- she was smaller and the first to get sick. But for some reason, she got better and Kit Kat didn't.

We'd already lost a second chicken.

Whatever goblin it was that had taken Chicken Jane in the night also injured Ulga.

We'd noticed feathers missing on her back side a few days after the incident, but hoped it was unrelated (sometimes the rooster's amorous attentions result in feather loss for the chickens).

But as the week went by it became obvious that there was a wound on Ulga's back side that was not healing well. Jon decided that (short of emergency chicken-surgery at the vet's office) the most humane thing to do would be to put her out of her misery. So he did the deed and we buried her.

Emma tearfully inscribed Ulga's name, in chalk, on a tombstone. But, as in The Lion King, the "circle of life" goes on. So our story does not end on a sad note.

Jon bought three new calves from a local organic dairy farmer (only $50 for the three!). The farmer couldn't keep them because they had already been given antibiotics, so would no longer be "organic".

These calves are already almost a month old and have been fed by their mothers the whole time-- so stand a much better chance of thriving. They are definitely more active and lively than the first two.

The new calves are Jerseys, and resemble deer (if you ask me). Same tawny color, same large soft doe eyes.

These new calves seem to have finally drawn Michael into participation at Johnne's farm. Till now he's resisted the neighborhood kids' general belief that Johnne's farm is the Place To Be this summer.

But he likes spending time with the calves. Also Johnne has found some kind of small paperwork job for him to do in the greenhouse. So he's excited about that.

A few days ago I "made" Michael come along with me to the farm. I knew that Johnne was having the neighbor kids (and Emma) paint her "Egg-Mobile" and wanted pictures.

The Egg-Mobile is a portable chicken coop that can be hauled by tractor around her fields. That way the chickens always have a fresh supply of bugs to forage for in the summer. They roam freely but stay near their Egg-Mobile, which gives them shelter (and protection) at night.

Anyway, Johnne decided it needed a coat of paint. So she called for neighborhood volunteers and ended up with Emma, Daken, and Makayla. They could paint it any colors, any design they wanted-- it didn't even matter to her if Emma used a paintbrush or her hands. Her only stipulation was that all the wood be covered.

When we got there and Michael saw what was going on, he decided that he wanted to help too. Me, Leila, and the volunteers were all treated to watermelon afterwards. Fun day!

We really like our neighbors here in Colfax. Unfortunately we had to call on one of them for help the other night.

(I've been debating whether or not to relate this story on my blog. It's personal and I usually write about lighter things. But this blog is becoming more important to me, and what happened is important as well. So here goes...)

Leila had been running a fever for about a day and a half. It seemed like her only discomfort, other than diaper rash and maybe teething.

Twice in the night she woke up and cried. I brought her into bed with us, and she fell back to sleep for a few hours. At about four in the morning she awoke and was so cheerful and lively it woke us up. She kept saying "mama mama" and "dada" loudly and affectionately, giving us little hugs and flopping around. She was still very warm but her energy level seemed to indicate an improvement.

I went to find her a bottle, hoping milk could coax her back to sleep. I came back and sat with her in the dark. I gave her the bottle.

But she wasn't drinking it. She was twitching. Jon had left the room for a minute, to use the bathroom. I called to him, "Turn the light on."

"What?"

"Turn the light on. Something's wrong."

He flipped the switch and we watched our baby convulse. It was a horrible, unreal thing to see. We were shocked and unsure what to do.

Holding her in his arms, Jon called 911. He described what was happening to the operator. While still on the phone with 911, her seizure ended. We told them we'd bring her in.

Of course we both wanted to be with her. But the other two kids were asleep downstairs. I weighed whether or not to wake them or if one of us should stay with them, instead. But immediately I thought of our neighbor across the road, a nice lady I've been walking with occasionally and have gotten to know.

I called their house and her husband answered. I described the situation and he was immediately sympathetic. Candy walked right over. She stayed at our house till the kids woke up in the morning. She made them breakfast and calmed their fears and was really a helpful angel to us.

We're hoping this seizure was a one-time occurrence, due to Leila's fever. There haven't been any more problems since we began controlling her temperature with medicine.

This same thing happened to me as a baby, I guess. I've also heard of other people who's children experienced one seizure, during a fever, and never had a repeat episode. Still, this was a truly frightening experience, and we are thankful and glad to have our baby girl back to health and well-being.

We appreciate all the sympathy and kind words we've had from neighbors and family members.

I'm willing to write about the "circle of life" when it comes to our pets and farm animals. But I cannot have that attitude of c'est la vie or any kind of acceptance of the "flipside" of life when it comes to a child... my child. I am so grateful that my mind and heart don't have to try to wrap around anything heavier than calves and chickens right now.

I'll close with this picture of our corn... along with a stubborn optimism that all will be well in our world.