5 November

Death Of A Sheep: What It Means To Be Human

by Jon Katz
What It Means To Be A Human Being
What It Means To Be A Human Being

In the animal world, on a farm, in a writer’s life, perspective is important. The death of a sheep is not a tragedy, sheep don’t live that long and are prone to all kinds of mishaps, illnesses and poisoned brush. The death of a sheep does not affect me l like the death of a dog, a cat or a donkey, I do not love all animals equally, or even love all animals.

Tess was a sweet ewe, appealing in many ways, before her all of the animals except Frieda were brought by me, this was the first animal that was Maria’s,  her bridge from pets to animals, Tess was a symbol for us. Still, she was a sheep and to me they are elemental and often unappealing animals, focused obsessively on eating and staying together.  They are not complex, they do not have dimensions. I have to be honest, a dog has always come between me and sheep, our sheep almost never see me without a dog like Rose, Izzy or Red, so we have not had much chance to be close.

Maria and I got a ton of lovely messages today, and I appreciate it, they were very grateful and heartfelt. Like all of our animals, Tess was somewhere between a pet and an animal, and that affects how we view treatment and death. Tess is a public figure, like the rest of us on  Bedlam Farm, not only ours but ours to share. When you put photos of animals up you have to take some responsibility for the depth with which many people attach to them.

But still, the world is filled with people in all kinds of distress and trauma, and I will not demean them or their troubles by grieving too much over a sheep. Life and death are one thing, not separate things, and if you live on a farm with animals, or if you live a life with animals, you will know loss and grief. It is part of it, no longer a surprise or a shock.  On a farm with Simon, Red, Fanny and Lulu, Miinnie, Flo, Frieda, Lenore and Zelda, I have no reason to grieve, my lucky life is filled with animals to study and love.

I sometimes wonder if the camera is not something to put between me and emotion, yet I felt I was put on this earth this morning to capture the images of life, love and death, it is my purpose, my calling, my passion. Maybe the reporter in me has never died. I know the artist is just being born.

I think I have channeled some of the animal ways. Red stayed close to Tess in the hour or so before her death, and when she died, he hopped over her and went out to corral the other sheep. The donkeys, spiritual animal pastors that they are, watched Tess’s treatment carefully and then came over to Tess and sniffed her carefully and stood vigil over her for a bit. Then they went off to graze, they did not return. The other sheep paid no mind to her at all, really, even the ever vigilant Zelda didn’t seem to notice she was gone or had died.

I love animals, and I share this idea about death with them. Grieving for sheep is not a place I choose to dwell for too long. I don’t grieve much when there is so much life around me, I was sad for sure, shed some tears, hugged Maria and, like the donkeys, went about my business. The death was a communal, even spiritual experience, the donkeys and Red all wanted in. Even the usually voluble Frieda was quiet.

This, I thought once again, is what it means to be alive.

To search for love and connection, to be humane to all living things, to encourage the creative spark, to accept life and death with equal dignity and perspective. So many good people told me they were sorry about the death of Tess, yet sorrow is not what I felt for too long. I felt gratitude that she lived such a good life, gratitude that she died quickly and painlessly,  gratitude that a ram is coming to bring us some lambs, pride that Maria and I make decisions so well and closely together.  I felt a sense of wonder at the way life and death shadow one another, and the way life goes on.

After lunch, Maria was in her studio cranking out her enchanting art, I was blogging, preparing for my book launch next week,  heading out for my weekly talk and Tai Chi lesson with Scott Carrino, Minnie was sunning herself by the Dahlia Garden. Jack Macmillan was opening up a path to the water for the animals, and Red was herding four sheep. The chickens were parading across the pasture, seeking out the last bugs of 2013, and I was shocked to remember this morning that I have a new book coming out next Tuesday.

There is no reason to be sorry for me or Maria, we are drowning in our rich life together. Long live Tess, she was here, she is gone. This is what it means to be a human being.

 

 

 

5 November

Burying Tess

by Jon Katz
Burying Tess
Burying Tess

Our friend and neighbor Jack Macmillan came over this afternoon, he brought his tractor and he buried Tess by the hay feeder. We seem to be a close community here at Bedlam Farm and the sheep and donkeys gathered around Jack and Maria as soon as the grave was finished. Usually we take the sheep out to the woods for the coyotes when they die, this is the first time we have buried one on our property – it was Jack’s idea.

He dug a hole for the grave, put Tess in, and then he dug out a nice path to the water for the donkeys and the sheep. Sheep die fairly often, but Tess’s death did seem like a bigger deal than usual, I think because she was a symbol of Maria’s life on the farm, the sheep are hers, not mine, the first animals in her life that are hers, and she was especially fond of Tess. I do not grieve a lot for sheep, they are not like dogs or donkeys or cats to me, but I did feel Tess’s loss, she was a very sweet creature and she did symbolize my coming together with Maria in our life here. I guess I have more sorting out to do, the photos affected me.

5 November

Mystical Time: Red’s Eyes And The Moment Of Death

by Jon Katz
Red And The Moment Of Death
Red And The Moment Of Death

As Tess took her last breath, I turned the camera lens on Red, who never took his eyes off of Tess during her examination and death. In Red’s eyes, I saw a look I had never seen before, an intensity that transcended work. I do not believe animals grieve, I have never seen it and did  not see it today – the other ewes never even glanced at Tess.

But I believe they notice their loss, and I saw watching Red and the donkeys today that they understand what death is, and they honor it in their own way. At the moment of death, Red’s ears went up straight, his eyes almost glowed with intensity, he seemed so aware of what was happening to Tess. Then, it was done, he did not look at her again.

Death is sad, but not only said, there is an awful beauty and poignance to it, a sense of being alive, of understanding how precious time is. Death is a part of life, not an aberration, it is woven deeply into our relationship with animals. In our world, death is not respected, only feared and mourned, it was respected in our barn today.

After Tess died, Red left he barn and went out to check on the remaining sheep.

 

5 November

The Donkey’s Vigil

by Jon Katz
Donkey's Vigil
Donkey’s Vigil

Tess’s death was dramatic, emotional and beautiful also, and my role is, as always to try and capture it as well as participate.  I am proud of the album I am putting together, there is an awful beauty in death, it is my mission to record the real nature of life. One of the most touching things of the morning was the donkeys’ vigil that occurred after Tess had died, and after Maria and Dr. Marsh had left the barn. I stayed behind to see how the donkeys’ and Red would react, and as soon as everyone was out of the barn all three donkeys came over and stood quietly over Tess’s body, each one touching their nose to her, one by one.

They stood in this way for several minutes, then moved on. I think they sense when an animal’s spirit has gone, and then they move on with their lives, a beautiful way to understand death and not be consumed by it. This and other photos will be in my album going up on my Facebook page.

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