A Major Loss To Our Farm Family

Poor Tiger Lily is receiving intravenous fluids from our respected favorite veterinarian

Well, dear reader, it has been a week. I haven't shared because I don't think I have fully processed it, but we lost not one but two of our beloved original girls over the weekend. I don't even know how to wrap my head around it. Our sweet Mama Boo passed away Saturday afternoon, and we lost her daughter, my sweet babu, affectionately deemed Boo, early Sunday morning. To say it was a shock is an understatement.

Mama and Boo spent nine years with us. They are the girls I credit with A) my complete adoration of goats, B) the start of our business, and C) the understanding that there is so much more to animals than what most people believe. Mama was by far the sweetest girl in the herd. She was loved by everyone, especially Boo and Red. Red, my geriatric girl with arthritis, was besties with Mama. These two ladies were inseparable. Mama was a respected member of the herd and held a position of esteem with the younger girls. She was sweet, gentle, and nurturing, but was firm with the younger goats, which earned their respect.

Mama was twelve, pushing thirteen, and was really showing her age. She had a rough spring. She had a surprise pregnancy that did her no favors, had some skin issues that we resolved, and developed monkey jaw, where her bottom jaw jutted out, giving her an adorable underbite. I always deemed her the canary in the mine when it came to herd health because she seemed more sensitive and fragile than the other girls. We saw no signs of illness with Mama. When Eric messaged me on Saturday afternoon that Mama was gone, I was shocked. However, considering her age, I wasn't surprised, if that makes sense.

You will not convince me that animals do not feel grief, loss, and emotional distress. Red, Boo, and Minnie Boo were standing near Mama, appearing to be watching over her. Mama has been a constant in Boo's life, and the girls have been together since Boo's birth. It was sad to see Minnie Boo, Mama's surprise baby from this year, repeatedly going over and nuzzling her. Minnie's little friends would then lay their heads on Minnie or nuzzle her as if to say, "I'm sorry. It will be okay." Boo just stood stoically, looking forlorn.

What we assumed was grief in Boo was illness. Boo seemed a bit depressed, wasn't overly interested in grain, and was kind of off by herself. We foolishly assumed she was sad over the loss of her mom. However, to our shock and heartbreak, when Eric did the Sunday morning barn chores, he found Boo curled up like she was asleep, but she was gone. Boo is the one who really surprised us with her passing. Boo was, by all accounts, healthy and thriving. She was fat, shiny, and doing well. This year was her retirement year, and we looked forward to giving our intelligent, wise, and patient girl a gentle retirement.

With Mama's passing, we would have assumed it was old age. However, with Boo's passing, we grew alarmed and frightened. What could cause a sudden death in a healthy, grown goat? We put a call in to our veterinarian and then racked our brains trying to decipher the mystery of what killed our girls. Frighteningly, two more girls showed signs of deterioration in their health and behavior. Tiger Lily, a six-year-old healthy girl, was showing signs of sickness. She was lethargic, it looked like she had dropped twenty pounds overnight, she was not eating anything, and she was grinding her teeth, which is a sign of pain. Not only that, but her stance was askew, and her back legs were "weird" for lack of a better term.

Another of our original five girls, Fuschia, aka Little Black, was off with similar symptoms as well. Add to the list of symptoms diarrhea, and we were worried sick. Poisoning was the first thing that came to mind. What else could take down four healthy goats in less than forty-eight hours, with no signs or illness, quickly killing them? We walked the pastures, looking for anything that seemed unusual or out of place. We saw no wilted trees, no unusual weeds, nothing was amiss. Eric then thought of the water. He drained the watering troughs, bleached them, and then filled the tubs with well water, leaving the large troughs with bleach in them. We looked at grain lots, and nothing had changed. We ruled out listeria, meningial worm, baber pole worm, and parasite overload. The girls showed no signs of any neurological issues. We were stumped and frightened.

Eric gave both of the girls a good dose of antibiotics, probiotics for their tummies, and pain meds. We took their temperatures, and they did not have a fever. Unfortunately, the vet could not come until Tuesday. So, Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday were touch-and-go. Every time we went to the barn, we fully anticipated finding one of our girls deceased. It was scary and worrisome.

On Tuesday afternoon, our favorite veterinarian arrived at 2:00. He took temperatures, listened to lungs and tummies, walked the pasture looking for poisonous plants, checked the watering troughs, and looked around the barn. He, too, found nothing amiss. Nothing that would poison our girls and cause such a quick death. He ruled out anything contagious because he said our little ones would be dropping if it were an infectious illness. He appeared as flummoxed as we were. He found that Tiger Lily's gut was not making any noises, which is very bad in a goat. He gave her intravenous fluids, tubed her with an electrolyte solution, and gave her steroids, pain meds, antibiotics, and vitamin B. He advised us to give her anything she would eat to get her stomach going again. However, he was not confident that she would make it. He did not do bloodwork because he said she might be gone before he got the results back, but he advised us to take her to Penn State for an autopsy if she passed away.

He also discovered that our new little buckling Woody had a fever, so he treated him as well. Everyone else in the herd appears to be healthy and free of symptoms. It has been touch-and-go for the last thirty-six hours. We are on rotational barn visits to check on everyone, give meds, and try to get Tiger Lily to eat. I tentatively say she is improving slightly. She likes licorice-flavored treats, alfalfa pellets, and is nibbling at grain. As advised by our vet, we stuff good, tender hay into her mouth with each barn visit. She is not a willing patient, but it is good to see some fight in her. She is up and moving a bit more, which is a good sign. She is drinking from a small bucket we take to her, so at least it is something.

Little Black is back to her old, mischievous self, thank goodness. She has made a complete recovery. Little Woody is doing well, also. We just need our Tiger Lily to eat on her own and get her stomach going again. Send some healing thoughts her way if you think of it. The timing, although never good, is even worse. With the Shaker Woods Festival the next three weekends, we usually leave the farm in the capable hands of our dear friend, Jenna. However, with the mysterious death of two grown goats and two sick goats, Jenna doesn't feel comfortable watching them. I completely understand. It is a big ask when everyone is healthy. Jenna also has a small herd of her own goats to worry about. As particular as we are with biosecurity, we understand this as well. We have decided to divide and conquer, as all good teams must do.

The Bibbed Wonder is going to hold down the fort here at home. He will nurse the goats, care for everyone, and cover Ligonier Country Market while The Bean and I go out to Ohio and cover the Shaker Woods Festival. The Bean and I are looking forward to having two girls' weekends of shopping, dining out, staying in a hotel, and swimming in a pool. Eric is looking forward to not having to leave the farm. It is a win. On the third weekend, Eric will come to Ohio and help us pack up. Everything works out well.

I have been too busy to sit with my grief for Mama Boo and Boo. I am sure that when it hits me, it will hit me with breaking force. I am kind of the queen of compartmentalizing my feelings, so I merely push the sadness aside. I know it won't last, but I hope it does until we get through the Shaker Woods Festival. When I find myself thinking about it, I push it down. I know, it's not healthy, but for now, it is a coping mechanism that serves me. When August is over, I will sit with my grief and let it overtake me.

I will be forever grateful for my original five goats. These five girls are the reason for this happy, rewarding, fulfilling, love-filled life. They are the gentlest souls with the kindest hearts. They deserve only the best. They deserve to be grieved appropriately, and trust me, the loss is felt every time we enter the barn. If you happen to see me with leaking eyes, it's because a moment of sadness has caught up with me. The weight of this loss is heavy. I am already thinking of ways to memorialize my dear girls. I just need a bit of time.

So, dear reader, it is not a happy, funny, laughter-filled blog today. However, that is life, isn't it? Unfortunately, it isn't all giggles, good times, and happiness. Something that I read sticks with me: How blessed I am to feel such pain and loss because that signifies the evidence of great love. I know some of you may roll your eyes and think, they're just goats. Get over it. To me, to us, they are more than goats. They are family. They are individuals who give so greatly of themselves and ask for nothing in return. They are funny, smart, kind, loving, intelligent, and wise. They have a way of making the worst day better. To sit in their presence is a calming gift. My girls provide so much more than milk. They allow us to do what we love as a family. They are the reason Eric isn't traveling for work. They are the reason I get to create things that make me feel happy and fulfilled. They give us purpose. I will be forever grateful that they blessed me with their presence, although it was not long enough.

So, on this lovely summer's day, stay safe, be smart, appreciate your time with those you love, send some healing thoughts out for Tiger Lily if you are so inclined, and keep washing your hands.