She’d been looking bad for sometime. She was quite old. We couldn’t get her to gain weight. I didn’t think she would survive last summer. I knew she wouldn’t this winter.
We talked about taking her to the stockyard. But…she was an old friend.
My boys were raised on her milk. I made every dairy product possible from her rich creamy milk. My boys rode her like a pony.
I don’t think she ever kicked during milking. Ever.
She deserved to live her few short months on grassy pastures that were well known to her.
When all the other cows ran away from home…she stayed here. When all the other animals conspired to make trouble (yes…they do that…) she was good as gold.
She was the perfect family cow.
Shortly after sunrise this morning, we saw her laying flat out in a field. We just knew she had died. We started trying to figure out what to do. You don’t bury a cow in ground that hasn’t been above 30, and mainly in the teens, for days.
We decided to drag her to the farm graveyard.
A wee bit later, Elijah came running in. She was alive….but couldn’t get up.
He brought her water, hay, feed. Nothing doing. She appeared to be suffering. He said it looked like she was crying. Elijah rolled her over to help her get on her feet. She didn’t even have the heart to try.
I believe she was about 17. She had lived with us for over 11 years.
We knew we had to put her down. Farm life is hard…don’t believe all those pretty pictures in the magazines.
My oldest and my youngest did the job together. I’m grateful to both of them. I don’t think I could have done it. I stayed in the house…watched from the window…prayed and cried.
All of her pasture mates came to say goodbye…even the horse. I didn’t know they did that.
As the tractor took her to the graveyard, the other cows followed, bellowing non-stop.
Don’t tell me cows don’t cry.
She was my favorite cow ever….I’ll miss you Nora.