As I take turns with my daughter digging a small hole big enough for the 1 pound lamb named Peanut Butter we tried to save, my thoughts flood my mind. Why did such an innocent loving animal touch so many lives in the less then 12 hours she had lived? How come I put my children in such a position to become attached to something that had such a minimal chance of survival? Even though I kept reiterating " She may die, she is very weak", this seems to not register in their innocent minds.
Peanut Butter came to us via my sisters farm in South Royalton, the mother had had triplets, a fate that often ends in death of one of the young lambs. Sheep tend to have 1 to 2 lambs, and it is just survival of the fittest when a third is born. My sister too has seen too much death in these last few months, and a quick knock on the head with a farm instrument would put a failing lamb out of its' misery painlessly. By many this is considered barbaric or cruel, however to one whom has dealt with farming and the difficulties with lambing, it is one of the unfortunate duties of a farmer. There is no pleasure, or satisfaction, just the thought that you are sparing the inevitable. The alternative, leaving the lamb to die a slow, death of cold, starvation and eventually lungs filling up with fluid and being unable to breath. My sister however could not face another life ending in her hands. I was grateful for that.
I was visiting my sister while waiting for a medical procedure to be done on my husband at Gifford. Berkeley and I decided to see her fresh batch of chicks, ducklings and lambs. She asked me to hold a mother sheep while she extracted colostrum from her and syringe fed a triplet that had a low chance of survival. It was a two person job that required a strong hold on the mother and two hands on the teats. We were able to extract about 40mls of colostrum, a good start for the now floppy lamb, that was 1/3 the size of her brothers. Peanut Butter was named because of the brown after birth that still lay on her fleece, the mother sheep tends to sense when her young are not going to survive and therefor did not clean adequately once she was born. We syringe fed the small amount of colostrum and watched as Peanut Butter stood for the first time. Our minds said "Maybe", and that was that.
I purchased lamb milk replacer at the local farm supply store and off we went with a lamb in a box, suckling anything it could put it's mouth too. Traveling an hour to home, we kept checking the lamb, expecting it to be dead, but it's head would pop up and it would start bleating and resume sucking on whatever it could reach. At one point Berkeley dose off to sleep and Dick and I turned to catch one of those lifetime memories of our daughter sucking her thumb and Peanut Butter sucking her finger, as she slept. I was in love. Peanut Butter was a natural at nursing from the bottle, drinking at least 1/2 pint of formula once we got home, and gaining strength as the day went on. She would run in the living room leaping (or trying to leap), and follow the children like they were her own. She became family quite quickly, and I was starting to think that she had a chance. That chance diminished when I awoke the next morning to see a limp, but still breathing Peanut Butter in her box.
Peanut Butter died in my arms, taking her last breaths as I was surrounded by hysterical children flooding me with tears. She was warm, and loved and died of pneumonia, just as my sister had told me she might. It is an awful feeling to loose something so little and perfect. It is even worse to watch your children try to understand something that had been so alive the night before , be limp and lifeless today. She is buried in our flower garden, and a perennial will be planted at her head, reminding us yearly of how such a small being can touch an overwhelming amount of hearts. I am grateful to my friends and family for such kind words and sincerity, and it makes me realize that we are in the most part a loving species, and in this time of sorrow I think it is a good thing to think about. Lately the news has been pushing this feeling out of my head, celebrating for the death of another humane being, watching gruesome photos of a story I try not to think about.
I of course am thinking of the recent death of Osama bin Laden, although a barbaric individual and directly involved in the death of my husbands good friend Karl and many other family members and friends. I do not wish death on anyone. Osama was misguided, fighting for something he believed to be evil, we( the American) people have done just as bad. In fact every culture has been barbaric and cruel, and we are supposed to be the country that gives a fair trial, not guilty until proven. Was it not as barbaric to shoot down an unarmed man? Isn't that like blowing up a building filled with unarmed civilians...?
I believe in our Military and I am lucky to have such freedoms as others do not, I know people do not fight fairly, I just wish we would not follow their footsteps. I am trying to teach this to my children, but I cannot when everything else claims to fight fair, and then doesn't follow that lead. I have told my children, that Osama was a angry and violent man, who disregarded humane life and did not respect the rights of others. But if they ask me how come we killed him, isn't it bad to kill others...there is no answer, because we too are a culture that kills, innocent and guilty people, we are cruel to one another, to our planet, our loved ones and ourselves...it is a battle that was at least ceased for a moment in my head, when I looked upon Peanut Butter and had something to save, care for and love. It would be great if we could do the same to the human species.
