Holiday Angst

Too hot to walk very far up the hill. Will save our major walk for this evening. I looked outside this morning and saw Strawberry, one of my favorite kitties and the one who follows me up the hill every night, lying flat near Knut's mound. I thought, oh, how cute, but then she was in the same place an hour or so later. She must have gotten too close to the chicken stew I put on Knut's kibble last night. There is not a mark on her but she's stiff and dead. All it takes is one bite of those massive jaws. Knut let's Monkey and Spikey eat out of his bowl, inside his hut even, without a protest...but then Monkey has that "attitude." Poor Strawberry. I miss her already. I'm still looking for Tunnel, the lost black doe kid. Her mother took her up the hill and came back without her. I gave up walking the land with the dogs after three days of searching. Mom had been looking very depressed and was screaming in her pen when I let the flock out to graze and I let them go with the flock. How could she leave her baby? I've been suppressing my angst over this unusual abandonment on the part of a nanny goat, who are usually the best of mothers. The hurtful circumstances of the birth must have played a part. I can't look at Tunnel's picture now. Black doe kids are my absolute favorite. In retrospect I should have taken Tunnel when I let the mom out. I've always been one to keep the babes with moms when at all possible. They were nursing fine but mom must have been harboring some resentment. It's been a tough couple of weeks on the farm. I lost a second ewe to bloat yesterday. Found her in the barn last night, grotesquely swollen to the point I thought she might explode, with her ewe lamb nestled beside her. She also had been given hay before going out to graze to avoid bloat. There is just-so-much-to-eat out there. I hesitated to tell Matt, as he hates this sort of thing and it adds to his list of thing he doesn't like about the farm, but I needed him to help me drag her out of the barn. My pile of dead animals is growing and, with no tractor, and the fields too wet to take a tractor out on anyway, I have no choice but to leave them under a tarp for later. Civil War battlefield here. I lost little Bella last week and can just begin to talk about it. Who knows how long she would have lasted, but I was trying to keep her forever. I came home from work and there she was, stretched out on the hay. No apparent reason other than she was just not viable from the start. I had found her near death, stiff and cold, in the winter, brought her back and kept her going all this time. Even with her retracted tendons she was doing fine. The shepherd in me says, fine, she won't suffer any more, but I really liked her. Prince William and Harry are still with me but they are runty. Not good shepherding at all. I'm encouraged by the site of lots of healthy animals on the hillside, but all this death takes a toll. Matt has gone to Jamesville, where my mythical tractor still resides, to put a new/used transmission in the ten year old Saturn he bought. 37 miles a gallon is definitely an improvement but I miss my truck. I'm not going to rent a cargo van to go to shows anymore. Paying for that beast ate all my profits from New Hampshire. I'll take my old minivan and if it doesn't fit I won't take it. I'm down on roving now and don't think I'll get any more done. It takes up too much room and i don't like the way it's been coming out. I talked to Heather Lathrop at Dreamweaver Mill, not a half hour from here, about machine spinning some yarn for me. She has a monthly plan where people bring smaller amounts and she does them within a month so you can bring her more when you pick it up. I'll give her a try. I just can't spin it all.