For those of you who are faint of heart - and really, even if you aren't - please, stop reading now. Just ignore this post. It's going to get pretty ugly. One of the biggest perks of having a blog is being able to write anything you want, and no one has to read it if they don't want to. I'm only writing this for me - it's selfish, yes, but that's the way it goes.
Four weeks ago today, twenty-two of our goats died after a horrific car accident. It was my fault - they were out grazing an alfalfa field, behind a portable electric fence, and they were due to get moved to new feed that night, but after a crazy day I figured they would be okay until the morning. They got hungry and knocked the fence down on the east side, where I had set the fence in the high ground next to the ditch - I thought setting it higher would be a good thing, but the dirt was so soft the whole fence went right down. They were probably out for most of the night, given that they traveled nearly six miles before getting to the busy road where they were hit. A single pickup truck came around the corner and hit nearly half of the goats in the group - the person driving, thank God, was okay. This all happened around 4:30 in the morning, and my dear parents dealt with everything at the scene before waking me up.
Evie, Havana, Zi Zhi, Carly, Panda, Affair, Reina, Etienne, Manora, Nini, Whitey, Sabrina, Kronk, Quiz, Ursa, Sidney, Stuffing, and Dumpling were killed by the impact. Three more had to be put down - Atlanta for a shattered pelvis and severe internal injuries, Corsica for broken ribs and a punctured chest cavity, and Ziva for severe, non-reparable damage to her left rear leg - and Annabelle died later that day from probable head trauma. I usually can't watch when one of my goats has to be put down, but for the first time ever, I was there when my goats died - I held each one as they were put down and kissed them goodbye. I had to - I owed them that much, and I wanted them to know I cared. Having walked the group from field to field several times, I noticed that most of the goats who were injured or killed were the ones who usually walk in the back of the pack - the ones that like to run in front were, for the most part, unharmed. Almost all of the remaining goats were uninjured - a few had scrapes and bruises or were generally sore, Tahoe had a broken jaw, and Patricia had some rib damage with severe edema and lacerated legs. Our wonderful vet was very sympathetic and kind throughout the whole ordeal and we were able to get the goats triaged and euthanized or bandaged up fairly quickly. My father, bless his heart, worked his butt off for days taking care of the bodies - they're all buried together out by the old plum tree on the east side of our field. I am hoping to plant trees or flowers there in the spring.
So why am I writing all this? Mostly, to get it all out. I don't ever want to forget them. I wanted to get all their names down in one place. I also wanted to remind myself of this: my first reaction, after going out to the remaining goats and seeing who was left, was that it could have been so much worse. Was I devastated? Yes. I miss them terribly. I regret that I won't ever get another kid from Zi Zhi or any of the others. I will always feel guilty for what happened, and I still have nightmares. But when I think of what could have happened that didn't, and how much worse it could have been, and how many more could have died, all I can do is thank God for His mercy. Mom and Jesse lost one goat apiece, which was terrible, but I'm so relieved that they didn't lose more and that all of their babies were unharmed. Almost all of the dairy goats that died, although very dear to me, were goats that were problem breeders, or old and retired, or just pets - goats that were costing money to feed with no return, although I didn't regret it in the least. I would rather have them back (in a heartbeat) and there was a reason I still had each and every one of them, but from a purely objective point of view, they were the less valuable animals in the group. I had too many goats, and although I probably would have chosen differently if forced to, the decision was made for me, and in a way it was a relief. It also helped immensely that almost every goat that died has a sister, daughter, or mother who is still here - from a breeder's point of view, I lost comparatively little. I'm so grateful to have the ones that are still here - most of the goats I feel very strongly attached to were still in the barn at home, almost all of the kids survived, and although it was an awful experience, in a way it strengthened my resolve to stick with goats. I'm spending more time with the girls, and the kids who lost their mothers (Gali, Abbey and Cory) have become good buddies. It was hard to watch Tahoe in pain and unable to eat or even scratch herself, but since the initial pain wore off she's enjoying her private sick-bay and daily smorgasbord of soft foods immensely, and loves getting her blanket at night. Patricia may never be fully normal - she still has a large mass of tissue on her lower left ribcage - but she's loving life and back to being as irrepressible as she ever was.
I also write this because I don't want anyone's charity, and I don't know how to tell them that without sounding ungrateful. I don't say these things because I want sympathy, I say them because every single one of those animals deserves to be remembered and I want to make sure nothing like this ever happens again. I'm the only one to blame for what happened. I'm not punishing myself for it, it's just a fact. I don't want anyone to feel like they have to walk on eggshells around me - if you want to know more about it, ask. I want to talk about it, it helps me cope. I don't want more goats to replace the ones that died, because a) to me they're not replaceable, and b) I'd rather do better by the goats I still have. I am so, so incredibly grateful for my parents and all of the friends and family who have been so thoughtful and kind and supportive through this whole ordeal - just to know that you're thought of, by so many people, is an incredibly comforting and humbling experience.
So there you have it. My first (and last, if I have anything to say about it) depressing and completely self-serving blog post. If you've read all the way to here, I apologize. I promise to get back to a more happy topic soon - I have lots of bummer lambs, and almost all of the goats are bred for spring kids, and it's almost Christmas!
Vale, my friends.
