The larlge animal vets are the First Responders of the animal world, they work crazy hours, drive hundreds of miles, handle cows, horses, sheep, goats, llamas. They have to diagnose without sophisticated tools, work in smelly and crowded barns with unpredictable animals. Like the carriage horse drivers, they choose a grueling but exciting way of life. They never know what they will see.
Dr. Lauren Marsh was impressive, she came in, looked over Ma, gave me five or six options, including a C-section, which I refused. We are inducing labor and if Ma doesn’t give birth by tomorrow morning, we will euthanize her for her own well-being. In minutes, Dr. Marsh had an ultra-sound and and IV going, and Ma was wrestling her every bit of the way.
I said yesterday that I don’t pray for sheep, but if anyone wants to this might be a good plan. I was expecting to euthanize Ma this morning – I told Maria this when she called from Alabama this morning – but Dr. Lauren Marsh of the Granville Large Animal Service came. She said Ma is extremely ill, suffering from pregnancy toxemia, dehydration and is struggling to survive.
We agreed to conduct an ultra-sound to see if any babies were alive in her, and we saw at least one with a strong heartbeat, her udder is full of milk but the pregnancy is literally eating her alive, she’s an older sheep, her blood sugar and pressure are through the roof. Dr. Marsh said it was up to me – one of those decisions in the real world of real animals I write to much about. I wasn’t sure.
When I saw the strength of the heartbeat in the ultra-sound I decided to try one last thing, so Lauren came up with a plan that I was comfortable with. She hooked up IV up to the barn wall and injected sugar and other fluids into Ma, she gave her an antibiotic for the painful foot abscess she has, we have her steroids to induce labor. This will either kill her or cause her to give birth. We agreed we would give it 24 hours, either the babies are born in that period or we will euthanize her to end any suffering.
Lauren said I would almost surely have to pull the babies out of her, she is so dehydrated it is unlikely she would have the strength or fluids to do it herself. We put her out in the pole barn – the other sheep have been sitting with her day and night and I will have to check on her every few minutes.
Deb Foster has been helping me out, she has been great, my back is just shot. Maria is coming tonight, I’m picking her up at midnight, she will be happy to hear this news, I hope Ma pulls through. Lauren says 50-50. I can’t bring myself to pray for sheep, not when there are so many people in need of help in the world. But I won’t turn down any spiritual mo-jol from the outer world. I’ll keep you all posted.
It looked like a sheep version of MASH in the barn, needles, IV’s, Red was heroic, Ma tried to blow through the gate and he got in front of her and she butted him and he bit her on the nose and backed her right into the stall. A great dog. Wild day in the real world of real animals. I hope she makes. If not, we’ll put her down in the morning, for her own sake.
Since I was nine or ten years old, I will admit that I have had fantasies about Tinkerbell. Some of them were sexual, some related to issues of adventure and independence. I thought she always dressed in a provocative and sexy way, she seemed to always have a come-hither look. She lived a life of movement and freedom, and there was that magic pixie dust that trailed in her wake.
I had this idea she was interested in me, or might be if I went to Neverland. I would have appreciated being one of the Lost Boys, as she was a Lost Girl. I was one of the Lost Boys for almost all of my life, maybe I am still. When I was a kid, I always fantasized about being free, I would have loved to just buzz around like that and torment the Captain Hooks in my life. She was – is – a strong woman.
I think Peter Pan never really appreciated her, and I always wondered where she slept at night and with whom. I hope she ended up with a good guy. I confessed this fantasy to my wife when we went to Disney World and some months later, being an artist, she surprised me with the gift of this beautiful pillow, which had some Tinkerbell hankies embedded in it. I love it, I love the whole idea of Tinkerbell still.
I nap with this pillow and perhaps because my former girlfriend is away this week, I saw the light fall on Tinkerbell. Even after all these years, she’s still works for me, I love you, Tink, now and forever.
Life As A Changing Landscape: Mercy And Compassion
I think of life as a landscape that is ever changing, ever evolving, full of crisis and mystery. As simple human beings, we are called upon to change, accept the sorrows of the world joyfully, adapt and grow. The farm for me has always been a great teacher about life, about love and joy, birth and death.
This photo speaks of the changing landscape, it is the trajectory of life with all of its mystery and crisis. When you see this landscape again, even in a few hours or weeks, it will be different. Ted, the gentle and efficient ram on the left, will be returning to Vermont and the farm where he lives. Next Monday, the sheep will be shorn.
On the right, Liam no longer has the wrap about his stomach. The vet wanted it to stay on another week, but I think he is ready. Towards the left, with her head down, is Ma. This may be one of the last photographs taken of her, the vet is coming this morning, I am resolved that she ought not be put through labor, I don’t believe she can survive it.
Ma’s breathing has gotten worse, her limp is now severe, the cause of it unknown, there is discharge coming from her nose and her uterus. Ted has stayed by her side all night, Liam right next to her, the sheep have gathered around her in a circle.
The farm has taught me much about mercy and compassion. In the animals world, there is this deepening idea that mercy is keeping animals alive by any means at all costs – this is considered to be humane. That is not my view. Sometimes it is merciful to keep an animal alive, sometimes mercy is just the opposite, as it was for our blind pony Rocky, facing assaults from the donkeys and one more winter. For me, mercy is about sparing them, not us.
I accept the landscape of life, I am not it’s master, I am it’s subject. I am in the photo, not in control of it. The landscape of life is what I write about, what I photography, it is an awesome and beautiful thing. I am sad about Ma, disappointed, I am glad Maria is away for this. She is coming home tonight, and if it needs to be done, I’d rather it be all done when she gets here. It is possible the vet will have another idea, or some ready cure, they have lots of tricks in their bags, but in the end it is up to me, and I am fairly resolved about it. The landscape of life changes, as the poet says, the moving finger writes, and having writen, moves on, nor all your piety and wit can change a word of it.
The curator of the Bedlam Farm Windowsill Gallery is in Alabama this week, so the task fell to me. I am different than Maria, not nearly as graceful or invented. Her gallery exhibits include twigs, discard baubles, stones, rocks, bits of fabric and jewelry. I decided to go with impact, old bottles, pansies and other flowers from the budding garden. The sun always comes up behind the barn in the morning, so I put them there.
Maria is an artist, she is all about style and the beauty of the earth, I go for light and color every time. It’s interesting that in the two years that we have lived here, this is the first time I have curated the windowsill gallery. I suspect it is one of those gender things, something mostly done by women, something me see as not their chore. Always good to be stretched and opened up to new realities.
