Y’all, this is a tough one to write. It’s something we all experience, and tend to only discuss in the tightest of circles. It feels a little embarrassing, a lot like failure, weeps of sorrow, with a tinge of irresponsibility. We’ve had animals die on the ranch, more than we care to admit, to ourselves and to others.
Here’s the thing: we’re first generation ranchers, we’re new parents, and we’re out here on our own. It is a lot. Does that mean we shouldn’t be trying? Some might say so. But what kind of legacy would that leave for our daughters?
Here’s the other thing: we’re doing this conventionally unconventional. We are dedicating our lives to uncovering and rekindling traditional and ancestral wisdoms. This approach falls under criticism for those that find the socially and morally responsible approach to be filled with chemicals, toxins, and experts trained by facilities funded by those chemical and toxin manufacturers. We are a no input ranch–no pharmaceuticals, no pesticides, no herbicides, no patented chemicals. We rely on nutrition, minerals, herbs, and homeopathy.
Losing a calf might hit differently when it happens under the care of a veterinarian. There’s a shifted or a shared responsibility there. When her care is solely on your time, effort, knowledge, and infrastructure, it hits harder.
In February we lost the sweetest calf Elsa. Her dam Cierra suffered a loss during birth last year–we found the calf on the ground with a broken neck shortly after birth. We were ecstatic when she had a successful birth this year. But shortly thereafter we noticed that Elsa was having difficulty nursing.
Last year we tried to milk Cierra after her loss because she is our certified A2/A2 calf. We couldn’t get more than a few drops. We tried everything, including bringing in a neighbor with milking experience and a more robust machine. She thought there was a calf stealing the milk–we knew there was something else going on.
Cierra’s udders looked full, but they just weren’t giving milk. We tried bringing her into the stanchion to try milking but she fought us. We tried bottle feeding Elsa but she fought us. Until one day when we found her listless in the pasture. Cierra knew she needed help now and let us carry her away.
We brought he inside, bottle fed her, and loved on her hard.
The next day, Elsa seemed so much better. It was Valentine’s Day and a sunny 72°. We fed her in the late morning and all of the literature we found said to bottle feed a calf 2-3 times a day, so we took her out to the pasture for some sunshine, grounding energy, and time with mama. We returned after a dinner out to find her listless in the pasture again. That night she passed and so began the what-ifs.
What if we hadn’t taken our daughters out for Valentine’s dinner. What if we ignored our research and fed her an extra time before we left. What if we gave her electrolytes. What if we gave her cell salts. Gosh dangit I looked for electrolytes at Tractor Supply and they all had food dyes. Why didn’t we give her Nuun or Thorvin that day? What if at bedtime I didn’t let Evey’s teething wear me down and fall asleep in her bed?
While sorrow remains, with each loss we make a conscious effort to learn and adapt. We speak more about that in our post on Persevering Through Adversity.
This week brought the hardest loss yet. I woke up Monday morning to our new kitten Celeste taking death gasps. She was only about 7 weeks old, not even old enough for standard adoption. We rescued her from Animal Control to join our other rescue Stella, who was found without a mother at Silver Dollar Winery.
I could sit here and speculate all day, but the hardest hit comes with my own confidence as a mother and a caretaker. I’d been sick myself for over a week and I just know that signs we overlooked I may have caught in better health. As a mother and a rancher, it’s easy to say but harder to put into action–self care is critical for success as a caretaker. It is so easy to put myself last. Easy to avoid my own holistic knowledge and ignore all of my own wisdom and advice as I tread the waters of toddler chaos while attempting to balance all of life’s duties.
Loss is inevitable, but it must not happen in vain. So today I’m making an oath to take my learnings and trek forward with love in my heart and passion in my soul to give the best lives possible to those under my charge and to take time everyday for self care because I can only offer the best that I am.
