Animal Tales
Last night when Mom moved from conversing in the men's group to the women's group, she explained that they were still including her, but it wasn't so interesting any more. They were talking about cattle. Linda observed that that's where the conversation usually goes eventually. She has a point. Cattle or goats.
Before this, at the table we had heard about an all-day seminar on goats coming up within the next few months. Myron, who has a registered Gelbvieh herd, considers goats a bit of come-down, but thinks he'll probably attend the goat meeting because his boys want goats as a 4H project. He noted that while he was living/teaching/working in Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Virginia, things changed in Kansas. "It used to be that no one would admit to having goats, but after I came back, you almost weren't 'with it' if you didn't have a few goats."
We also heard about Myron's very-ill heifer, which he discovered the other day lying down, with a grotesquely swollen head, and its tongue hanging out. The vet came out and offered his professional opinion that she would probably be dead by morning. But she was up and elsewhere the next morning--still looking very sad, however. At some point, Myron became convinced that she could not see because of her eyes being swollen shut, and she could not hear, at least out of one ear. She also could not eat or drink. But the vet came out again and they did what they could to save her. Anti-toxin and antibiotic shots, along with a nutritional drench and water via a tube down her throat were things they tried. The vet is puzzled about her symptoms, although he believes she has somehow been infected with a toxin. Spider bite? Snake bite? Rabies? Several of these possibilities seem less likely in January than they might have been in warmer months.
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Judy told the story of how Christy recently came in after having been outside and reported that she heard a goat that sounded like it was in trouble. Judy sent Joey out to look. He couldn't hear or find any such goat. However, about 30 minutes later when he went out to do chores, he soon came racing back in to get Judy.
"Mama, come quick, there's a goat in the stock tank." There was ice in the tank, and the young kid must have jumped onto it and then broken through. So it was partially submerged in the icy water. No wonder Joey couldn't find it.
Like any good farm wife/animal nurse/midwife, Judy hurried out and scooped up the kid and carried it into the bathroom. Holding it in the tub, which they filled with warm water, they tried to get its body temperature back to normal. Then Christy and Joey wrapped it in old towels, carried it to a spot in front of the space heater, and dried it off by rubbing its coat. The kid had obviously begun to recover by this time and was hard to hang on to. Eventually it escaped their grasp and slipped behind the sofa. Apparently the attempt to capture it there was unsuccessful because it was soon racing madly around the house. In the master bedroom it leaped onto the bed and JOY JOY saw something familiar in the full-length mirror propped against the wall behind the bed. It lunged toward the goat in the mirror and crashed harmlessly into the glass, except for knocking the glass from its frame. There or elsewhere, someone grabbed the goat and took it to the utility room where it also made quite a mess. When Lowell came home he made a quick executive decision and took that goat back to the flock where it belonged. It's been fine ever since.
*****************
Rhoda recalled with a shudder the time she had a sick calf penned in her kitchen overnight. This one had scours (diarrhea). It too had begun to recover by morning, and the scene in the kitchen was not pretty. Rhoda scrubbed and disinfected that place repeatedly, probably gritting her teeth the whole time, or doing as I've learned to do when I'm really grossed out. I breathe through my mouth so I can't smell anything, deeply, because I don't want to pass out from lack of oxygen. These would be poor times to go into a faint.
Hiromi finds my avoidance tactics highly amusing. I am not so amused when he imitates me. How would he like it if I refused to do the nasty jobs because of how bad they smelled? Or what if I passed out from forgetting to breathe? Then he'd have to deal with the nasty job himself and revive a passed-out wife. The least he could do when I am being grossed out is to make sympathetic and supportive noises.
***********************
I'm relieved. For the past week or so, I've seen only one Eurasian Collared Dove come to the bird feeder. Earlier, there were always two. I feared that one had met an untimely end. This morning they were both back, and I'm glad that the cats, owl, hawks, or whatever have not yet put an end to their trusting, companionable ways.
**********************
My niece, Heidi, once hit a possum on the road when she had girlfriends riding with her. Not sure if they had actually killed the possum, and not wishing to leave it to die a slow death, they backed up to check on it. Horrors. A whole family of baby possums was crawling over the apparently dead body of the mother. There was only one thing to do. Drive over it again to kill the babies. And again. And again. It took three times to do the ghastly deed. After that the carload of girls proceeded on their not-so-merry way.
When Grant picks off yet another possum at the cat dish, I don't think he has quite the same array of emotions involved in Heidi's scenario. At least I hope not. I'd hate to think how calloused a person would have to be if killing wild animal babies provided pleasure.
Before this, at the table we had heard about an all-day seminar on goats coming up within the next few months. Myron, who has a registered Gelbvieh herd, considers goats a bit of come-down, but thinks he'll probably attend the goat meeting because his boys want goats as a 4H project. He noted that while he was living/teaching/working in Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Virginia, things changed in Kansas. "It used to be that no one would admit to having goats, but after I came back, you almost weren't 'with it' if you didn't have a few goats."
We also heard about Myron's very-ill heifer, which he discovered the other day lying down, with a grotesquely swollen head, and its tongue hanging out. The vet came out and offered his professional opinion that she would probably be dead by morning. But she was up and elsewhere the next morning--still looking very sad, however. At some point, Myron became convinced that she could not see because of her eyes being swollen shut, and she could not hear, at least out of one ear. She also could not eat or drink. But the vet came out again and they did what they could to save her. Anti-toxin and antibiotic shots, along with a nutritional drench and water via a tube down her throat were things they tried. The vet is puzzled about her symptoms, although he believes she has somehow been infected with a toxin. Spider bite? Snake bite? Rabies? Several of these possibilities seem less likely in January than they might have been in warmer months.
************************
Judy told the story of how Christy recently came in after having been outside and reported that she heard a goat that sounded like it was in trouble. Judy sent Joey out to look. He couldn't hear or find any such goat. However, about 30 minutes later when he went out to do chores, he soon came racing back in to get Judy.
"Mama, come quick, there's a goat in the stock tank." There was ice in the tank, and the young kid must have jumped onto it and then broken through. So it was partially submerged in the icy water. No wonder Joey couldn't find it.
Like any good farm wife/animal nurse/midwife, Judy hurried out and scooped up the kid and carried it into the bathroom. Holding it in the tub, which they filled with warm water, they tried to get its body temperature back to normal. Then Christy and Joey wrapped it in old towels, carried it to a spot in front of the space heater, and dried it off by rubbing its coat. The kid had obviously begun to recover by this time and was hard to hang on to. Eventually it escaped their grasp and slipped behind the sofa. Apparently the attempt to capture it there was unsuccessful because it was soon racing madly around the house. In the master bedroom it leaped onto the bed and JOY JOY saw something familiar in the full-length mirror propped against the wall behind the bed. It lunged toward the goat in the mirror and crashed harmlessly into the glass, except for knocking the glass from its frame. There or elsewhere, someone grabbed the goat and took it to the utility room where it also made quite a mess. When Lowell came home he made a quick executive decision and took that goat back to the flock where it belonged. It's been fine ever since.
*****************
Rhoda recalled with a shudder the time she had a sick calf penned in her kitchen overnight. This one had scours (diarrhea). It too had begun to recover by morning, and the scene in the kitchen was not pretty. Rhoda scrubbed and disinfected that place repeatedly, probably gritting her teeth the whole time, or doing as I've learned to do when I'm really grossed out. I breathe through my mouth so I can't smell anything, deeply, because I don't want to pass out from lack of oxygen. These would be poor times to go into a faint.
Hiromi finds my avoidance tactics highly amusing. I am not so amused when he imitates me. How would he like it if I refused to do the nasty jobs because of how bad they smelled? Or what if I passed out from forgetting to breathe? Then he'd have to deal with the nasty job himself and revive a passed-out wife. The least he could do when I am being grossed out is to make sympathetic and supportive noises.
***********************
I'm relieved. For the past week or so, I've seen only one Eurasian Collared Dove come to the bird feeder. Earlier, there were always two. I feared that one had met an untimely end. This morning they were both back, and I'm glad that the cats, owl, hawks, or whatever have not yet put an end to their trusting, companionable ways.
**********************
My niece, Heidi, once hit a possum on the road when she had girlfriends riding with her. Not sure if they had actually killed the possum, and not wishing to leave it to die a slow death, they backed up to check on it. Horrors. A whole family of baby possums was crawling over the apparently dead body of the mother. There was only one thing to do. Drive over it again to kill the babies. And again. And again. It took three times to do the ghastly deed. After that the carload of girls proceeded on their not-so-merry way.
When Grant picks off yet another possum at the cat dish, I don't think he has quite the same array of emotions involved in Heidi's scenario. At least I hope not. I'd hate to think how calloused a person would have to be if killing wild animal babies provided pleasure.
posted by Mrs. I at
6:56 AM
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