We had the most delightful time with some friends from church Friday evening. We extended our visit the following morning by shopping together at various discount/thrift places. After lunch we parted ways and eventually made it home late in the afternoon. Phillip went out to check the animals, as we always do, and found our calf, Bucky, dead. Dakota, one of our goats was barely hanging on so Phillip had to shoot it. It was all very emotional. The surprising thing about it is that Douglas took it all really well. Remember this post? The calf was actually his. He said something like, “Well, it’s behind me now, and I’ve got to think ahead.” I find myself wondering where all this maturity is coming from. Maybe we have/are preparing them for life. Sometimes that goofball makes me wonder. ~ But little Laura, our animal lover and future veterinarian cried her little eyes out. She said Bucky was just beginning to love her. How in the world we would’ve ever slaughtered this calf is beyond me. We need to raise beef on somebody else’s pasture where cows don’t fall into the pet category.
The irony of it all is that later in the day we had to slaughter some of our Cornish Rocks. They’re seven weeks old now and it’s time for them to find their new home in the freezer. I talked to Laura about helping and explained that she and I would stay inside until she gets a little older. I had visions of rocking her for hours as she mourned the death of those stinky things. But apparently chickens fall somewhere near the fish category in her little mind. She explained that she’s seen “millions” of dead fish and it was simply no big deal. [she and Douglas are bound to be in sales someday] After the initial throat cutting, Phillip allowed her to come out. All three said…”Cool”…..”This is neat”…. Go figure.