The Tale of the Triplet Deer

          

                                                        How this triplet was first found.

                   There are many little miracles on a farm if you stop to watch the events of the animals who live there, including the animals who are normally considered wild.   One of this year's miracles is that one of the does that grazes along the grassy areas of the farm had triplets. We knew this could happen, but we'd never seen in here.  There are a lot of deer this year, and I realize that they must be hunted otherwise after such a large number being born this year, there will be starvation and disease this Winter.  Still, I said a prayer for the doe and her precious three fawns.  All three were identically specked with white, and stayed close to their mother. Each evening, they would come to the back yard of the farm, which is encircled by thick forest, and they would graze.  I would either cook or do dishes at the kitchen window while watching them.  

                    If the bears aren't here, I occasionally feed the deer and the birds, and probably for this reason, the deer don't fear me. Occasionally, they come close, and although I don't touch them, I do note their markings and general condition.  The mother doe and the triplets looked healthy through Summer.  As the Autumn began, the triplets began spending more and more time away from each other, and away from their mother.

                   I have known that with the large number of deer I have seen this year at the side of the country roads and on the highway, that it would be a difficult year for deer.  When there are large numbers, some of them actually will jump into cars, and people have been killed when a buck, or even a doe jumps into a driver's side window. We all need to slow down around deer, but occasionally an accident occurs that isn't the fault of the driver.

                    I ran some short errands today off the farm and returned this afternoon. On my return,  I saw a new model car I didn't recognize, parked outside the farm gate. I parked beyond his car and got out, because I couldn't have driven to the gate.  The man explained that as he was driving by a young deer crossing the road on it's way back to my farm had struck his car.  A small deer, clearly within our property lines, lay on the ground, on her side, with rapid respirations.  The man was truly upset, and he said he'd called the sheriff's office for animal control.  He had hoped that they could help her.   I walked near her quietly, and despite the fact that the white speckles had mostly faded, she was most certainly one of the triplets.  The man thought she was badly injured, but at first I wasn't so sure. Other than the rapid respirations and one leg being in an unusual position, I thought a closed fracture was possible. She also was still alive fifteen minutes later with lower respirations which I thought was a good sign.  I called the sheriff's office to see when animal control expected to arrive. I also opened the farm gate, in case she was well enough to get up and run to what we had considered her home.

                    All at once, she got up, took a few steps and collapsed on the opposite side to which she had been lying. When she collapsed. I could see multiple abrasions on the side on which she had hit the car, but I also saw bright blood seeping from the interior of a back leg.  She could stand, but she could not run.  Most likely, she had a fracture.  The man who'd hit her was upset.  I told him that the deer don't watch the road well, and that this happens sometimes, no matter how careful you are.  I also told him that in our area we have state certified wildlife rehabilitators, and that since wildlife is the property of the Commonwealth in our state, only licensed wildlife rehabilitators are permitted to care for them. Most of them specialize in specific animals, some squirrels, some deal with birds, and others with deer. There is even a rehabilitation center for bears.  He was from out of state and seemed a little bit relieved.

                    Then a deputy sheriff arrived. He took some information from the man who'd hit her and then released him to go home, as he was leaving for his home state this evening.   The deputy sheriff told us that he would remain with us until animal control arrived.  By that time, my husband had arrived, and since I had called him, he drove very slowly so as not to frighten the poor deer.  By then, she was still alive, but her respirations had increased again and she sounded as if she had fluid and significant congestion in her lungs. This of course, suggested a much more grave prognosis.  I told the sheriff I wished to give her a chance to make it to a wildlife rehabilitator, but even as I said it, I could see her condition deteriorating.   He told me that in addition to being a deputy sheriff that he was also a hunter.  He thought that she was suffering and he offered to shoot her in order to euthanize her.  I would have preferred to take her to my barn, administered an injectable antibiotic, established a saline iv line with pediatric tubing, administered a newborn alpaca dose of NSAID,  splinted her fractured leg while waiting for the farm vet.  Of course, on wildlife in this state, none of that would have been legal, and I didn't even know if it would have been fair to this poor creature, and so I said a quick prayer over her, and I stood a few feet away for as long as it took for the officer to euthanize her with one loud shot. 

                      We probably should have buried her here, but I don't think where the animals spend eternity is impacted by their burial spot, and so we have the deputy a thick industrial style trash bag and he took her with him in his sheriff's SUV.    I have not seen her siblings or any other deer since.

                       I will admit to being deeply saddened over this, although I understand that the circle of life is the way of this world.  I hope she was comforted by the soft speech of the lady who enjoyed her presence as she grazed each evening.  Thank you to the deputy who was as concerned for her and who helped us make what I think in the end was the best choice for her.

                       I still have tears.

To the Brightest Sheep Ever.........Tesla

                  

                 Those of you who are regular readers of this blog will recall that in July of 2014, we became the lucky recipients of two gorgeous brown sheep. We named the mother sheep Sheila, and her young son Tesla.  We were able to get these rather valuable sheep rather inexpensively because they were frankly, too bright to be ordinary sheep.  The two of them frequently escaped from their original farm. In fact, I once found flockmembers of theirs on the country road and secured them with dog leashes and brought them home.  Eventually, the original farmer was happy to let them go because "sheep too bright to be sheep" tend to lead the rest of the flock away from the farm and into trouble.

                 When we brought them home, we knew they could not be housed together, but although they were housed separately, they liked to see one another from different pens. They got along well with dogs, horses, and most especially with alpacas.  Tesla was  named for the scientist Tesla, and not for the car or the business that followed.

                  So much life has happened since 2014.  Our animals grew, our family grew, we started a new business.  Sometime,s it seems that animals move through their own lives at break neck speed.

                   In 2020, at about maximum lifespan, Sheila came in to the barn, lay on her side, and passed quite quickly. This is always sorrowful even when they live a life of a length that is expected.  Tesla was initially quite concerned, but adapted once we put him in with an alpaca at night.  Cammie the alpaca seemed to think he was her baby, and he seemed to enjoy the attention.

 

 

                      Although we never had any of the escape behaviors seen at the prior farm, we did have one problem with Tesla.  If you were facing him you had no problem, but if you turned your back on him, he would occasionally head butt a human being, usually in the back of the knees !   We explained how painful this was, and how undesirable, and as he aged, it didn't seem to happen as much.

                        

                    This year we realized that Tesla was probably a bit more than ten years old.  We noticed that he wasn't moving as well as he had been.  Although his hooves were healthy, he seemed to have some crepitus in his hips.  We also noticed that one cornea was beginning to cloud, and that he likely had an evolving cataract.  This can now be treated in some animals with a particular eye drop, so we planned to watch it.  Tesla began to slow down and have difficulty grazing and being active in May.  We gave him some extra attention, and made sure that he was brought in and secured in a room in the barn with an alpaca at night.  We also made some changes in his food as his appetite was less consistent than it had been.  Tesla also got a shorter haircut this year because elderly animals do not tolerate extreme summer heat.  By July he needed to be reminded to eat, and reminded to drink.  We would change the water numerous times through the day because he would only drink very cool water.

                     Despite the fact that my husband worked tirelessly to keep Tesla comfortable, exercised, fed, grazed and loved, this week he remained in a room of the barn under two fans while lying on the cool clean smooth concrete floor of the barn.  We knew that our time with our brilliant sheep was drawing to a close.  Cammie the alpaca lay beside him most evenings. The barn cat, Albinus, sat beside him as if it were something the king of the barn would do.  We played the radio his his room softly during the days and some nights.  Tesla passed at 9:44 pm last evening with my husband, Cammie, and Albinus in attendance.  The horses were quiet as they knew what was going on on the other side of the barn.  I was sad not to have been present when he passed, but I had been there a few minutes earlier, and told him how loved he was, and that it was alright to go to his mother, and his siblings.  No matter how long they live, it never gets easier.

                   Tesla will be buried here on the farm.  If you ever wonder about the personality of the sheep, there is a delightful children's DVD series from England called Shawn the Sheep, that we acquired some time after Sheila and Tesla joined us.  We were surprised sometimes as to how much Shawn was like Tesla.

Tesla, we love you, and you will be missed. We will make sure Cammie has a new companion, though a miniature horse seems to be most interested in joining her at the moment.  Somehow we are lesser humans now that we are sheepless.

                

 

 

 

After Fifteen Years, Daniel Finally Gets His Cat

               

                                      Tosh as a kitten

 

 

      As announced on another one of my blogs, dear Tosh, Daniel's cat passed at 6:36 am today.

 This dear creature will be sorely missed.  The story of his life is at this link and at links at the bottom of this link's page.

https://learnedfromdaniel.blogspot.com/2023/05/daniel-finally-gets-his-cat.html

 

 

 

Skye Cheats Death, Yet Again

                    

      This is the actual dead copperhead snake. It is of moderate size and is an adult.

         This muscular snake shows evidence of having had a recent meal.

As regular readers of my blogs may know, we have a border collie named Skye who patrols certain forested areas of the farm, and then returns to the other animals. She can be described as a bit of an eager beaver.  Perhaps she still remembers being a rescue and feels she needs to earn her keep, although she became a family member with a full retirement plan here, long ago.

               On the 18th, Skye performed her normal patrol and on return to the barn area, she carried a moderately sized adult copperhead snake.  My husband asked her to put it down so that he could ensure that it was dead.  Next, he examined Skye who had a clear bite mark on her muzzle that was continuously dripping blood.  He called my cellular phone and I quickly came down to the barn with the the correct dose of liquid diphenhydramine and an injection of broad spectrum antibiotic, appropriate for a canine of this weight. When I saw her and gave those, I also assessed her for pain and for whether any swelling endangered her airway. I also had epinephrine with me, although in all honesty, I would have had to have called to ask the vet the appropriate canine dose, because off the top of my head, I don't remember.  It was only when I had done those things, I notified the vet of what had happened and the treatment we had provided.  We were to continue the diphenhydramine liquid in the dose we had used every 6 hours for 24 hours, and then every eight hours until today, when she would be assessed by a vet.

               How did we know HOW to treat a copperhead snake bite in a dog ?   Because nine years ago, in July, the very same dog was attacked by a large copperhead in the fenced area just outside her kennel room. That time, her head swelled to more than twice its normal size and she was drooling as well as bleeding. 

              I hope this is the last time we encounter a copperhead bite, but it's likely not to be.  This farm is surrounded by acres and acres of thick forest and is an ideal habitat for them.  Sometimes, they leave the forest and come to the cleared area, probably seeking food.

              This is also the last year under federal law, in which farmers may purchase injectable antibiotics to have on hand on their farms for a variety of species of animals.  In future, I will need to ask the vet to provide a prescription for these items with directions for treatment of various animal species.

               I am also considering having the trees around the kennel cleared except for the large oaks which provide dogs shade.  I am also going to ask the farm vet whether snake repellent of any type might help keep the copperheads away from the kennel where they are a hazard to the dogs and to us.

              This is also a danger to the horses, who could suffocate if bitten by a copperhead on the muzzle.  In the past, the black snakes here ate the copperheads, but this does not seem to be happening as much as it once did.

               Because human beings have a much more complex neurological system, a copperhead bite requires immediate expert medical care often including antivenin.  A few years ago, a number of people in surrounding counties were bitten by copperheads while walking on their decks or gardening, and a few of them logged time in an ICU.   Fortunately for us, dogs have less complex neurological systems and according to our vet, have a better record of recovery without copperhead antivenin than with it, and so both times, we were fortunate enough that she has recovered.  A smaller dog, or perhaps an elderly or very young dog would not be so lucky.

This is my prior blog post from another one of my blogs,(https://rationalpreparedness.blogspot.com ) concerning Skye's prior copperhead bites, nine years ago.

 

https://rationalpreparedness.blogspot.com/2014/07/important-information-in-canine.html/2014/07/important-information-in-canine.html

More info at:

 

 http://lifeaftertherescues.blogspot.com/2014/07/copperhead-snake-bites-in-dogs.html

 

 

The Story of Brielle

 

                                                                         Brielle

            About fourteen years ago, a family restaurant opened in our very rural neck of the woods. Their specialty was barbecue sandwiches, but they had a broad menu, and our kids loved to eat there.  This was within about the year after our son Daniel had died, and I was making great efforts to do things as a family as I knew a couple of the kids had been having a hard time, and needed to get off the farm and have some family time. This also helped a bit because there had been a family restaurant there prior to this one, and Daniel had come with us, so it felt comfortable to be in the same building with the family.  In addition to the barbecue, the present restaurant made fantastic burgers and homemade coleslaw.  The coleslaw was so fantastic, I used to place some of it on my burger.  For a time, we tried to eat there about once a week, and our kids came to know the menu by heart.

             In addition to serving the farmers, the farm families, the occasional home  builder, and providing a place to have a date night for local couples, the restaurant owner also fed some feral cats who hung around the dumpster at the restaurant. You couldn't blame them. Even the cats knew that it was the best food for many miles.

              It was tough for the owner to prepare such a large menu and to procure and then prepare a lot of the food each week. We learned that he chose and picked up most of the food he used at the Sam's Club which was about fifty minutes from there. He loved what he was doing, but he soon found that he had no time for anything else.  Eventually, he and one of the waitresses decided to get married. He decided that he wished to close the restaurant and try something new.

               Of course,  we were disappointed,  but we understood.  By then, he had already agreed to let us bring one of the cats home because he had not had time to take her to a vet, and we'd had concerns about her.  My eldest son named her Brielle.  In the weeks that followed, before the restaurant closed, other people took each of the cats, mostly for their barns, and so none of them would starve when the restaurant closed.

               Brielle was a smaller cat that most. She had medium long hair and a strange meow. The vet thought she might have suffered some significant nutritional deprivation as a kitten and that she may have some neurological issues.  For a semi-feral cat, she was a strange one. She was a picky eater, and was often demanding. If a human petted her, she didn't like him to go, and she would knead your lap, arm or anything else while sinking her claws into the legs of your jeans. She also drooled pretty profusely when she was petted. She also didn't drink a lot of water unless you gave her a really large water dish, the kind you might give to a German Shepherd. It was as if she intended to conserve water unless she knew she had a large supply.

              We had a large two story garage/art studio built on the farm, in part, to provide a place for our eldest son, who was studying at the university to become a sculptor, a place to work. When the rooms were completed, and the welding machines moved in, Brielle didn't want to be anywhere else.  She especially liked doing what looked like cat ballet on the large beams within the building. The building had lots of nooks and crannies and she would explore the building for hours. At night, after she was fed, we would close her into the office which stayed warm, and had food and water for her. During Winter, we placed a heated mat under her cat bed. We even had a painting of a cat, that looked like her, up in the office.

               When our son was working in the building, he often opened one of the garage styled doors, and out she would go. She enjoyed walks in the forest and usually returned at dusk when he would lock up the building, and leave a light on in one of the rooms.  Brielle had the strange habit of stalking much larger animals. There were often deer at the edge of the forest grazing near the building, and she would size them up as if preparing for a take down.  Once, our eldest son saw her in a fight with one of the ravens that lives on the farm. Brielle was hurt during this interaction and had to have the vet remove one of her long canine teeth from one side of her mouth, which had been broken and seemed to be infecting. She eventually healed, but was more careful with groundhogs and other animals afterward.

               When our eldest son got married and left the farm, Brielle had to adapt to life without his working there. Since there was a no pet policy where he and his wife were living, she could not come with him. In some ways, remaining where she was familiar and had lots of space may actually have been better. She saw him occasionally when he returned to work there occasionally, or to pick up something he'd left there, or used rarely.  The rest of us tried to make up the difference by visiting often, and by opening the building so she could wander on days when we might be out with the horses or other animals. She liked being a part of the action.   She even adapted and came to terms with another semi-feral cat, Albinus who came to live in the barn with the horses. He liked Brielle, but she had to be convinced that he was a worthy overseer of another part of the farm.

                As Brielle aged, she became thinner and we were concerned that we could not monitor her food and water intake with her being in the art studio, and so during Winter, we brought her up to stay in our eldest son's bedroom. At first, she was delighted. It was nice and warm, and surely he would return with his wife, since his bed was made and his bookcase was full and his furniture was there. Sometimes he did, and over the next five years, he told her about the new little daughter he and his wife had, and then a couple of years later, about the new baby son. Brielle met them a couple of times, but they seemed to move a little too quickly for her liking.

                I still let her dance in the rafters in the art studio sometimes during good weather, but in the last year or so, she became more content to remain in our eldest son's room, and receive visits from the rest of us. Sometimes, I would open the window and she would sit by the screen enjoying the sun. Sometimes I would let her play outside, and often, she and I would go for a walk with a light leash.  Last year, during one wandering episode, she became lost and a neighbor called us to pick her up. We knew that her days of wandering alone safely were over.

                Matthew, also one of our sons died suddenly in November not long after he had turned 32. Although Matthew had not been her human, she took this hard. We had to work to get her to eat and drink, and I spent a lot of time with her. It was almost as if she had decided to go with him.

                 Consultations with the vet yielded that she had been experiencing urinary tract infections and hematuria. This was treated for a time and she seemed to improve. We did this for several months and then one day, three months to the day after Matthew's passing, Brielle refused to eat or drink. She lay peacefully on her bed, which I moved to our eldest son's bed.  I spent the day with her, and our grandson was also in attendance.  That evening, after he went home, she peacefully went to sleep with my sitting beside her.

                  Even when a beloved cat lives a decent lifespan, their loss is sad and difficult. She was an important fixture and personality here for so long.  My hope is that she located Matthew and Daniel in Heaven and that they are caring for her now.  Thank you for being our cat, Brielle.  I wouldn't have missed it for anything.  We will always remember you, and we will always love you.