In Memory of the goats at Elbow Pasture

May 15, 2012 was a great day. The sun was shining and I was sorting through my goats, getting ready to take a load of them in the stock trailer up to the Elbow community pasture. The moms were looking good, the babies were growing like weeds. I loaded up 33 adults and 54 babies, and dropped them off in the capable hands of the shepherd. I know there are always losses - the saying goes if you have livestock, you have dead stock. Little did I know the tragedy that would befall my herd this spring.
On Saturday, May 26 I took up a load of ewes and lambs. The main herd was out grazing, it was a beautiful sight to see the 1700 or so sheep and goats out in a tight group grazing. I stopped to take a few pictures, even saw some of my baby goats playing on the fenders of the shepherds stock trailer, as goats tend to do. All seemed fine and peaceful.

May 26 at the pasture

Sunday May 27 brought cold rain that turned to sleet as the morning progressed. I worried about my flock but seeing as Elbow pasture is almost 2 hours North of me, I hoped they had slightly better weather. And after all, my animals were healthy and should weather a little cold weather just fine.
Monday May 28 I was driving to an appointment in Swift Current when I got a call. It was Tacey, the pasture manager/shepherd. I thought maybe she was calling to tell me there was perhaps a sick lamb or 2. I was not prepared for the bombshell she dropped: In the night pasture, they have cutter bee huts set up as protection for the goat kids. The entrance is modified with a panel to allow only babies in. In the storm, frantic goats had pushed into the shelter with the kids. My goats and the PFRA pasture's own goats took the brunt of it. Kids and does smothered, suffocated or trampled. The preliminary numbers sent me reeling: 8 adults, and 30 babies. 30!!!! It took a minute or 3 for that to sink in. Tacey advised me that she was sorting through them as best she could, but she needs to know how many kids each doe had so she can account for them all. I vaguely said I will see what I can do. She advised that I might want to come pick up the orphans. I drove for a minute or two in silence, then called Larry. Then the tears started as reality sunk in. I told him we had to leave for Elbow right away, I was turning around and coming back. We were going to pick up the goats. What was left of them. I called Tacey to tell her we were on our way. A little bit of organization was required - she would round up the entire flock and start sorting off my animals, while I prepared for the trip, waiting on Larry. Flashlights, in case it got dark. A change of clothes, in case we didnt make it back at night. Medicine and electrolytes and anything required to revive goats, some old towels, a thermos of coffee all got packed in a few minutes, the dogs fed and kenneled and we were off. I made arrangements on the phone with a friend to milk my milk goat and check the remaining sheep and goats for the evening check, and to be on standby in case we didnt make it home that night.

All the way up to the pasture, goat faces popped up in my head. Who got crushed? Who is OK? I have my favorites, I have my best goats. I tried not to think which ones were lost, but their faces and tag numbers kept running through my brain.
The drive once off the highway was rough. There had been a LOT of rain, the roads were washed out, but we made it down the narrow trail to the night pen. The previous night pen was a trampled mess of mud, the sheep were penned adjacent to it. By some miracle Tacey had managed to pluck most of mine out of the herd of 1700 - no small task, with just her and a pasture rider and some dogs.
We walked through the herd, looking for strays. My heart jumped everytime we found one, two, three kids! a couple adults.
I looked in the trailer that Tacey had set up. A pitiful number of confused goats stared back at me. I breathed a sigh of relief at some familiar faces, only to look up again and search for others, others that I didnt see. Tacey brought out her book and I took out my piece of paper with my numbers, and she read the numbers to me of the ones that had been lost on the crush. My heart splintered a little with each number. So many! Oh no, oh no, not number 109! Oh no, whole families wiped out!
Does with no kids, kids with no moms. I blinked back the tears.

Now for the hard part - to go and take photographs of the dead, for insurance. I walked over the trampled ground, stared in horror at the pile of bodies. So many! I started taking photos. Winced as I spotted my pink eartags. Doe number plus a letter on the front, L.H. on the back. Green doe eartags showed up. I wept at the sight of it. My heart was broken like the bodies lying on the ground in front of me.

We took home the goats. Kids crying for their mothers. Mothers crying for their lost kids. I cried with them.

My Ode to the Lost Ones:
# 1 there is a reason why you wear that number. You lost your kids, but at least I have you. I'm so sorry.
# 3 you lost 2 out of your 3 kids. I am so sorry.
#9 my little skewface. You were born in 2010 at the farm, I carried you and your first kid into the garage in 2011 during a cold snap. You had the cutest little doeling this year, you cared for her so sweetly. Both of you are gone. I am so sorry. I will miss you, dear one.
#12 you and your kids died together, like the good mom you were. I am so sorry.
#16 my heart aches for you as you look in vain for your 3 lost kids. I am so sorry.
#19 you were luckier, you have one out of 3 kids. I am so sorry.
#23 at least you have one kid out of 2.
#24 you lost your single, I am so sorry.
#26 lost one out of 2. Such lovely babies you gave me too. I am so sorry.
#33 you have 1 out of 2. Beautiful kids they were too. I am so sorry.
#36 you lost your single, I am so sorry
#39 you have 1 out of 3 left. I am so sorry. Such beautiful babies they were.
#41 you died with your 2 kids. I am so sorry. You were a good mom, even looking after little 3B who you treated like your own. You were just a doeling yourself.
#42 I am so sorry, you lost both your kids.
#43 I lost you, but I have your kid, and I hope that next years generation will be saved by your ample colostrum I have frozen in my freezer. I am so sorry. You were a good doeling and a good mom.
#45 you died with your twins. A good doeling and a good mom. I am so sorry.
#46 you lost both your twins. I am so sorry. You are a good doeling.
#47 you lost your single, I am so sorry.
# 107 I lost you and your little twin doelings. I am so sorry.
# 109, oh how I feel your loss! You were beautiful! My eye sought you in the pasture. Your kids were gorgeous. I held your boy in my arms for a long time, deciding if I should castrate him or not. I thought well, I have you and your beautiful daughter, so I did. Now all I have is your wither son.
#1014 you were just a baby yourself, I sent you to pasture to grow up. Now you never will.
#1023 or Swirl as we call you, at least I have you and one of your 2 kids.
#51 you lost one of your twins, but I am thankful to have you and your other kid.
#29, you were still a baby, now you will never grow up.

My beloved 109

The kids that will never grow up

We will re-build. This is a massive blow to me and my herd. But we are strong, the goats and I. We will carry on.