So this post is hard to write...
I can remember being a little boy showing sheep in 4-H. They were "market lambs." I wasn't smart enough to figure out what that meant until the day of the sale. I could hear the auctioneer arriving at a price for someone's animal and then asking, "Where do you want this animal to go?" The answer I heard burned into my brain: "Manuel's Slaughterhouse." The truth of what a market lamb was hit me like a ton of bricks.
I ran and jumped in the stall with "Fluff" and "Snowball" and hugged them and cried. And cried. And cried. These were my friends. I walked them every day. They followed me around. My dad was about to call off the sale, when logic finally settled in on me. They were wethers. This means they were castrated at a young age. They are no good for breeding and only good for eating. It was hard to do, but I relented. This is life. It is hard, but it is truly a blessing to be at the top of the food chain.
Fast forward forty-something years later, and I'm in the same situation. Daisy was the calf that came alongside "Momma Cow," our first Jersey milk cow. Daisy grew up and became a great show cow and milker, providing milk for our family for years and years and provided us many calves. She is the matriarch of our little herd and quite bossy.
She's eleven years old and as she's aged, she's run into a problem. For two years we've tried to have her bred, but she won't get pregnant. Bulls breed her, but she is never able to get pregnant. Try as we might, we cannot get a positive test. The veterinarian has looked at her and found nothing wrong, but she is unable to get pregnant. On our 3 acre pasture, we just don't have room or money to just "put her out to pasture" and let her live out her days without providing calves or milk. The sad day came when we realized that Daisy couldn't stay with us anymore. Saturday we loaded her into the cattle trailer...
And we took her away. That's all I can say. We both told Daisy we were so sorry. She was a good cow and was with our family for 11 years. We took very good care of her and provided her a good home and peaceful surroundings. Our Maker's Acres Family Farm was like "cow heaven" to her, I'm sure.
As Tricia walked away with Daisy's halter in her hand and we drove away in the truck, pulling an empty cattle trailer, the same pain from forty-something years ago gripped my heart. I feel like a big baby, but it is an emotional thing to me.
Farewell Daisy. We will miss you.
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