When farming is beautiful, we are able to welcome a perfect sunrise, and each ensuing sunrise seems to be impossibly more perfect than the last. We are able to welcome new life with each birth of a calf, and watch them take their first wobbly steps on their brand new legs. We are able to enjoy the sounds of the herd happily munching on their feed or their cud, knowing that they are relaxed and safe. When farming is beautiful, there are no words that can accurately describe it, partly due to the amount of work it takes and partly because you need to sincerely love your animals in order to appreciate the things that make them happy every day.
When farming is sad, it can touch a spot deep inside us that only an animal lover can feel. Knowing that a loved one is sick and cannot be saved, or that an old friend has reached the end of her career. The necessity or the helplessness of a situation can resonate that she's not "just a cow".
I have tried very hard over the last few years not to have favorites, not only because there is something that I love about each of them, but also because as murphy's law might have it, all of my deemed favorites have met a tragic end. I do not use "The F Word" (F is for Favorite!) with anyone, though there are a few who come close. I strategically do not specify that they COULD be a "You-Know-What" of mine.
Hunter is very close to being one of my f.....orites (I DIDNT SAY IT!).
Last week, Hunter suddenly became extremely ill. She had developed an udder infection (which is common, especially in high-producing cows). Unfortunately the type that she had contracted has a very low survival rate (like 10%) even with treatment. Despite an enormous amount of supportive therapy, medicine and love, poor Hunter was going downhill quickly. She stopped eating, stopped producing, stopped pretty much everything. In 2 days she lost a huge amount of weight and didn't look like she was going to make it. I called the vet to see if I could do anything else for her, but we had already done all we could. It was now up to her.
The next day she was too weak to stand up, She could barely sit up and hold her own head off the bedding, so I called the vet to euthanize her. We didn't want our poor sweetie to suffer any more than she already had. When he arrived, she looked awful, but perked up as soon as he got here (the "mean man" with pokey needles! yikes!). He suggested a different treatment, one that may not work, but we all agreed was worth a try. If it gave her a chance, we were willing to try it even if the chance was a slim one.
An hour or so later, after he treated her, she was strong enough to scoot herself into our sick pen (she's not only tough but smart too). That night she started eating again. The next day she was strong enough to stand up (with help). The day after she was up by herself and the day after that was able to walk around the barn.
Now, Hunter is back in her usual stall and is almost back to 100% healthy. The vet had told us that fateful day that the only way to fix her type of infection was with a miracle and a little luck. It must've been something because she stood again for the first time on Easter Sunday.
I wanted to share this story because I am so tremendously proud of her. She is an incredibly strong willed and spirited animal, and I have no doubt that her inner fighter is the reason she recovered, I'm sure that the tube feeding and IV fluids helped, but inside I know it was just her being the tough girl that she is.
Knowing an animal as long as I have known Hunter, its easy to become attached to them, and in truth, I feel better knowing that I am attached to each of them. I think every animal owned by someone deserves to know that their someone is willing to go the distance for them. Every animal that is sick and needs treatment gets every ounce of care and love that we can provide. Knowing that Hunter is better and is going to be part of my life a little longer is part of what makes farming beautiful. Together, we will get to see the sun rise again tomorrow.