Last February, Cookies and Cream, our Flemish Giant Rabbit doe, gave birth to a litter of kittens. We knew she had, because we'd watched her carefully craft her nest for a week-or-so beforehand. When the babies came, we were terribly impressed with what a good mama she was. She protected them with loud thumps of her giant feet, and cuddled gingerly into the nest so that they could nurse. One day, however, the children came to me with great concern. CC's nest had collapsed, and she seemed to be walking mindlessly over where her kittens used to rest. I dug through the hay as deep as I could, but found no trace of the baby rabbits. It seemed as though the entire litter had just disappeared, like it had never been.
I did a quick Google search, and learned a startling reality: sometimes adult rabbits will eat their young. I realized that this winter had been a pretty severe one, and though CC's hutch was in the barn, it wasn't beyond reason to think that she might have devoured her kits for self-preservation, and to protect them from the cold (a kitten-Kevorkian, if you will). However it happened, several lives were lost.
How was I supposed to explain this to the children? How could I have it make sense for them, spiritually, without making them worry that I might have already sized them up for the crock pot? Luckily, I didn't have to explain anything. It just so happened that the concern over the disappearing rabbit kittens was swept away by excitement over newly-expected cat kittens. The same day that CC's babies disappeared, Sweetie Pie, one of our barn cats, came waddling home to us with a belly swollen full of babies, and several lives were gained.
We put CC's modest proposal out of our minds as we watched Sweetie Pie grow wider with little ones. After about four and a half weeks, the children found a little pink kitten covered in blood on the floor of the barn. "We think Sweetie Pie is having her babies!" they cheered, but were quick to realize that the one they'd found hadn't moved; a life had been lost. They laid the underdeveloped little creature in a basket full of hay, and let it be until another animal carried it off. Later that afternoon, we noticed movement under the hay of CC's hutch. Buried down deep by their mama, the baby rabbits had survived, and were ready come to the light and be loved. Six lives were gained.
Sweetie Pie had three babies about two weeks later. She hid them in a nest of hay. Still very much a kitten herself, Sweetie Pie didn't understand how to nurse her babies, so a little white kitten starved to death after a few days. We brought Sweetie Pie and her remaining two into the house with us and trained her to be a mama, and are now rewarded by two of the most precious baby cats we've ever seen.
In the meantime, our last pregnant nanny seemed to be holding onto her babies for an unusually long time. We'd watched her udder drop and grow heavy with milk, while her belly kicked and twitched. When the shape of her belly changed from looking like she'd swallowed a grocery cart to looking like she'd swallowed a canoe, we were on the edge of our seats. Surely it was time! But Annie stayed this way for the next four-or-so weeks. It baffled us. Her belly didn't seem to be twitching any more. She seemed less aware of her load. If it hadn't been for the canoe in her gut, she wouldn't have seemed pregnant at all. We were very worried, and watched her like hawks.
At home we had a baby pygmy goat named Billie*, whom we'd hand-raised from the day he was born. Do you remember when our beloved filly, Milly, was euthanized? It just so happens that the Sunday of Milly's death was also the day of Billie's birth. One life was lost, and one life was gained. Because Billie was bottle raised from birth, he really considered himself a part of our family. All six of us participated in regular feedings, cuddling and play time. He was more expressive in his love than our dogs. We loved him like one of our own.
Shortly after Billie was old enough to leave our garage and sleep in the barn, he began to develop a nasty cough. John found him one afternoon asleep on a lawn chair, covered with flies. Alarmed, John brought the baby goat inside and treated him with electrolytes and sugar. The little goat seemed to recover quickly; he was walking around again and his eyes had recovered their clarity. He still had a slight cough, but seemed to be no worse for ware.
This morning, I called out to him as I usually do when I walked outside to cut some chives for our breakfast. Billie cried back to me with urgency. "Ma!" he was screaming, as if calling my name, "Ma!!" Hearing the desperation in his voice, I rushed into the barn to find him flat on his side under the door of the chicken coop. He was determined in his cry for me, but he couldn't bring himself to rise. I lifted Billie into my arms and cradled him into a basket. John and I tried to get him to take down some juice, but he refused. When he began to fall into seizures, we knew that he was dying.
Billie lingered for a few hours more, but gave up his final breath as I wrote the words of this blog. He died to the sound of my husband consoling me, while I tearfully reassured the baby goat in his final throws. "Don't ever let anybody tell you that was just a goat," John insisted.
It is unusual for me to abandon a piece of my writing before it's completed, but I decided to clear my head with some good, hard farm work. As I made my way out to the barn, there was a sound that made my heart leap. I could have sworn I heard Billie's cry. I heard it again, and was now sure that it was his voice. Then I heard the cry doubled, as if the voice had been split in two. As I peered over the gate of the goat pen, I was amazed to see a very slender Annie laying proudly beside two awake, alive, and completely engaged baby pygmies. I fell to my knees and buried my face in the soft fur of the newborn kid, and let my tears flow openly. One life was lost, and two lives were gained.
I don't know why life comes and goes with such unpredictability, and I don't know how we mortals continue to walk strong despite the awareness of our fragility. But there we go. Ready to love again immediately after loss; ready to laugh again immediately after tears. This is why there is salvation in hardship; this is why there is joy in pain. God has an awesome system working here on earth. We must only pray that we are always working with it!
*"Billie Goat Gruff" was the first born kid of Billy Idol.
I did a quick Google search, and learned a startling reality: sometimes adult rabbits will eat their young. I realized that this winter had been a pretty severe one, and though CC's hutch was in the barn, it wasn't beyond reason to think that she might have devoured her kits for self-preservation, and to protect them from the cold (a kitten-Kevorkian, if you will). However it happened, several lives were lost.
How was I supposed to explain this to the children? How could I have it make sense for them, spiritually, without making them worry that I might have already sized them up for the crock pot? Luckily, I didn't have to explain anything. It just so happened that the concern over the disappearing rabbit kittens was swept away by excitement over newly-expected cat kittens. The same day that CC's babies disappeared, Sweetie Pie, one of our barn cats, came waddling home to us with a belly swollen full of babies, and several lives were gained.
We put CC's modest proposal out of our minds as we watched Sweetie Pie grow wider with little ones. After about four and a half weeks, the children found a little pink kitten covered in blood on the floor of the barn. "We think Sweetie Pie is having her babies!" they cheered, but were quick to realize that the one they'd found hadn't moved; a life had been lost. They laid the underdeveloped little creature in a basket full of hay, and let it be until another animal carried it off. Later that afternoon, we noticed movement under the hay of CC's hutch. Buried down deep by their mama, the baby rabbits had survived, and were ready come to the light and be loved. Six lives were gained.
Sweetie Pie had three babies about two weeks later. She hid them in a nest of hay. Still very much a kitten herself, Sweetie Pie didn't understand how to nurse her babies, so a little white kitten starved to death after a few days. We brought Sweetie Pie and her remaining two into the house with us and trained her to be a mama, and are now rewarded by two of the most precious baby cats we've ever seen.
In the meantime, our last pregnant nanny seemed to be holding onto her babies for an unusually long time. We'd watched her udder drop and grow heavy with milk, while her belly kicked and twitched. When the shape of her belly changed from looking like she'd swallowed a grocery cart to looking like she'd swallowed a canoe, we were on the edge of our seats. Surely it was time! But Annie stayed this way for the next four-or-so weeks. It baffled us. Her belly didn't seem to be twitching any more. She seemed less aware of her load. If it hadn't been for the canoe in her gut, she wouldn't have seemed pregnant at all. We were very worried, and watched her like hawks.
At home we had a baby pygmy goat named Billie*, whom we'd hand-raised from the day he was born. Do you remember when our beloved filly, Milly, was euthanized? It just so happens that the Sunday of Milly's death was also the day of Billie's birth. One life was lost, and one life was gained. Because Billie was bottle raised from birth, he really considered himself a part of our family. All six of us participated in regular feedings, cuddling and play time. He was more expressive in his love than our dogs. We loved him like one of our own.
Shortly after Billie was old enough to leave our garage and sleep in the barn, he began to develop a nasty cough. John found him one afternoon asleep on a lawn chair, covered with flies. Alarmed, John brought the baby goat inside and treated him with electrolytes and sugar. The little goat seemed to recover quickly; he was walking around again and his eyes had recovered their clarity. He still had a slight cough, but seemed to be no worse for ware.
This morning, I called out to him as I usually do when I walked outside to cut some chives for our breakfast. Billie cried back to me with urgency. "Ma!" he was screaming, as if calling my name, "Ma!!" Hearing the desperation in his voice, I rushed into the barn to find him flat on his side under the door of the chicken coop. He was determined in his cry for me, but he couldn't bring himself to rise. I lifted Billie into my arms and cradled him into a basket. John and I tried to get him to take down some juice, but he refused. When he began to fall into seizures, we knew that he was dying.
Billie lingered for a few hours more, but gave up his final breath as I wrote the words of this blog. He died to the sound of my husband consoling me, while I tearfully reassured the baby goat in his final throws. "Don't ever let anybody tell you that was just a goat," John insisted.
It is unusual for me to abandon a piece of my writing before it's completed, but I decided to clear my head with some good, hard farm work. As I made my way out to the barn, there was a sound that made my heart leap. I could have sworn I heard Billie's cry. I heard it again, and was now sure that it was his voice. Then I heard the cry doubled, as if the voice had been split in two. As I peered over the gate of the goat pen, I was amazed to see a very slender Annie laying proudly beside two awake, alive, and completely engaged baby pygmies. I fell to my knees and buried my face in the soft fur of the newborn kid, and let my tears flow openly. One life was lost, and two lives were gained.
I don't know why life comes and goes with such unpredictability, and I don't know how we mortals continue to walk strong despite the awareness of our fragility. But there we go. Ready to love again immediately after loss; ready to laugh again immediately after tears. This is why there is salvation in hardship; this is why there is joy in pain. God has an awesome system working here on earth. We must only pray that we are always working with it!
*"Billie Goat Gruff" was the first born kid of Billy Idol.
