Had to euthanize a kid last night. :(

[cmjust0]

The giant tree claimed it's first life.. Buck kid.. Found the teeniest little crack, got his back leg hung, freaked, tried to jump, and ended up shattering the bone between his hock and stifle.

There was no fixing it.. I'm fairly certain he also destroyed a big vein/artery and -- given that his leg was turned backward when I pulled him down -- I'm sure the nerves were damaged as well.

After I put him down, I moved his leg around just to make absolutely sure I'd done the right thing. I could feel bone fragments -- lots of them -- moving around freely, deep within the muscle. Short of full amputation, he was done.

Truly a catastrophic injury..

Just sucks. Pretty bummed out today.



Also just want to take the opportunity to say something to all the lurkers out there considering goats... If you can't imagine having to carry a 2mo old kid out behind the barn as his leg dangles below him and he yells for his mama, then having to set him down and pet him for a second to calm him...then shoot him in the back of the head....get yourself a nice dog.

 

[BriteChicken]

I'm sooo sorry! But you did the right thing.

 

[ksalvagno]

I'm so sorry. That is terrible.

 

[freemotion]

Oh, how horrible. May this not haunt your dreams. Go smooch up some healthy kids to remember why you have goats. I'm gonna smooch mine up in your behalf.

 

[glenolam]

You did the right thing....I had to do the same thing to a duckling last week - something happened, probably stepped on, and bone was sticking out it's leg. No way that duckling was going to make it on its own, so I mustered up the strength (well, my hubby made me so I could learn how to deal with it) and helped it pass on.

To me, it's better to see them go quickly then watch them suffer for weeks on end until something else happens....

 

[DonnaBelle]

CM, I'm so sorry you had to do that. I'll be thinking about you today.

I have tears in my eyes for you..... and the goat.

DonnaBelle

 

[lupinfarm]

So sorry CM

 

[lilhill]

You're 100% correct ... raising livestock has it's ups and downs, and this is definitely rock bottom. So sorry you had to do it, but it was the right thing to do.

 

[cmjust0]

I was in the house, standing right by the window when it happened.. I heard him start screaming immediately, looked out, and saw him hanging upside-down from the end of the big tree..

Ran out the side door, scrambled over the fence, ran straight over and lifted him up so he wasn't hanging...saw right away that his leg was turned in a very, very bad way. Took me probably 2min to unwedge his leg and get him back on the ground.. As soon as I set him down, I saw his leg dangling and knew he was finished.

I actually went back in the house, changed, put the pistol in my pocket, and made it back to the gate before it occurred to me to call my wife.. She was getting off work soon, and she'd been working with the little guy quite a bit lately....his mama was teaching him how to be aloof and flighty, and he was juuuust starting to come around.

I just watched him for a minute trying to decide whether to just get it over with, or let my wife come home and see for herself.. Finally reached her on the phone, and by that point he was laying down and seemed relatively comfortable.. His mama was nearby.. My wife wanted to say goodbye if that's what it came to, but she also wanted to see for herself...

She saw what I saw, but insisted I call a buddy of ours who's been raising goats for better than 20 years.. I knew the answer before he picked up, but she just wanted me to ask if there was anything -- anything at all -- that could be done. Said that if he didn't have an answer, well...that would be that.

She was just hoping for a miracle, basically. I was too, in a way, but I knew it wasn't to be.

I told him what happened, and that I had a pistol in my pocket as we spoke.. He said "Depending on which one of mine did that....well, no, I take that back...with a break like that, it wouldn't matter which one it was. I'd use what ya got in your pocket."

We went down to the barn where he'd managed to hobble in and lay down next to his mama.. My wife went over and cried her eyes out, petting on him and his mama both.. I went up and opened the gate to get behind the other barn, just so I wouldn't have to set him down on our way back there..

When I got back...ugh...it was just heartbreaking, because he and his mama were laying there with their heads together. She knew he was hurt badly -- I actually believe she knew he was mortally injured -- because she didn't make a fuss or try to push him around or anyting like that...she just hung back with him as he made his way to the barn, and then laid calmly with him.

As I picked him up to carry him away and send him to the other side, she looked up at me and it just broke my heart all over again..

I got him up behind the barn and set him down.. He was confused, and in pain, and he yelled for his mama once as I place the lantern to where I could see what I was doing. I turned him away from me and just stroked his back until he was calm again...

Literally, the next thing I know, my ears are ringing and he's reeling over sideways.. I'd shot him, which -- as weird as this sounds -- came as a surprise to me. I had to *think* to really recall bringing the pistol to his head.. It was as if my left hand and my brain were me, and my right hand belonged to someone else and acted of another's will.

I really can't explain it.. This wasn't my first rodeo, but it was the first *kid* I've ever had to put down, and it was the first one that went from perfectly fine to dead -- at my hands -- in such a short span of time.

Once he'd dropped over...well, they don't just go limp immediately. He was gone -- no doubt about it -- but I went on and put a second in him just to be absolutely sure the job was done completely. That one, I remember well.

Dropped the magazine out of the pistol, pulled the slide back to de-chamber the next round, put that round in the mag, put the mag back in the pistol.. Picked up the lantern.....saw that he'd rolled back into me and I had huge blood stains all over my left pant leg and boot..

Checked fence on the way back to the house.. I have no idea why, but I saw slack in a gate handle and went to investigate it. Just hadn't fully registered yet, I guess..

Got back to the house, grabbed the shovel.. Went out to the little garden where we buried the last one who died and started on another grave.. The last one to pass would have been a cousin to this little guy, though they never met.. Felt better about burying him with family anyway, as dumb as that sounds..

Dug a nice deep hole...I'm tall, and it was better than knee deep by the time I was done. I've found that digging a grave is actually good therapy for stuff like this, because at a certain point...well, digging deep holes is hard, so human nature sets in and you just want it DONE.

Went inside and got a blanket.. Went back to where he fell and collected him...he was bigger than the picture I had in my head, and much heavier now than when he was alive. Carried him back through the pasture, to his grave in our front yard..

The goats were uncharacteristically laying in the pasture instead of being in the barn. Something was wrong, and they knew it.. They didn't follow me to the gate like they normally would have, nor did they follow me back out...they just laid there, looking on as I walked. Maybe they knew what happened...maybe I just looked a little more predatory...maybe they were sad or scared. I don't know.. They didn't crowd me, though... They never made a sound.

He had this neat little triangle mark on his side, and my wife wanted a little lock of it.. I snipped a bit of that off and gave it to her.. She put it in an envelope and marked it "J.B. 8/2/2010"..

I unfolded the blanket and laid him in the center, with his head pointed east. Took the four corners, lifted him up, and lowered him into the grave. I made sure he was laying like a little goat does, with his head up.. Draped the blanket over him gently, then began filling the hole.

As usual, the first few shovels full are the hardest.. It's a sickening sound, the thud of dirt clods hitting a body.. So, you take it easy until all you see in the hole is dirt and you can't hear the thud anymore.. After that, it's about getting it done, so you pick up speed.. You feel bad, but again...you just want it over with, so you work quickly and try not to think about anything but shovel...dirt...hole...shovel...

Went back in the house, picked up the herd book..

"Euthanized -- broken leg. 8/2/2010"

Taped the envelope with his lock of hair below the last entry.. Scanned the page...very little there. DiMethox... Deworming... Normal stuff. Got to the top of the page and saw the entry..

"Born 6/6/2010"

Gone way too soon. His life hadn't even begun yet.

Rest in peace, little guy. We'll miss you.

 

[cmjust0]

Also...between the time when it happened and when my wife got home, I went and found a little strip of plywood, a box of nails, and my hammer, and went up on the tree to cover the crack he went through..

Almost couldn't find it.. I saw a crack and dismissed it as being smaller than the one he'd gone through and not a danger...but then couldn't see any other crack. I knelt down and looked closer, and sure enough...hair. His hair. That was the crack that took his life. I almost couldn't believe it.

I laid the strip of plywood over it and pounded a few zinc dipped ringshanks through it into the ancient white oak.. When I was done, I couldn't help but stand up and look all around the place thinking........how many other "cracks" are there out here in this old barnyard that might someday claim a life?

Countless.. I'm sure of it.