Mom Says: Farm Animals go Inside

Growing up, with a mom as a RN. She would assist doctors bringing life into the world. “In my work, I can’t make mistakes, if I do, it could be someone’s life...” My mother has said this statement, for the last twenty plus years.

Her at home routine included: quick changes, throw her scrubs in the washer, and take off her white tennis shoes.

“Girls, my clothes are contaminated.”she would inform us.

My sister and I waited to hug her, to avoid germs from the hospital. My mother always looked tired on the weekdays from pulling late nights.

As she wasn’t allowed to clock out, until finished her charting.

The whole take your kid to work day was out of the question. As kids can’t be in a hospital unit to observe. So I always took that to mean my mother was someone powerful and fearless.

We were raised on a quarter acre hobby farm. These formative years is where I learned the most from her.

Late one night, we had a freak rainstorm in Arizona. The week before my parents bought two bottle calves from local dairy. One calf, didn’t make it through the night. My dad spent the afternoon burying the calf.

My mom had all of us, rush the other angus calf into our extra large laundry room.

Dad ran to the store, for a tube large enough to fit down a calves nostril, and bottles of anti-diarrheal for a four chamber stomach. Mounds of blankets, and heating pads.

I was supposed to already be asleep, but, I heard my mom talking to my grandma, “What am I going to tell the girls if she doesn’t make it?” she asked stressed out.

“Janie, I will stay on the phone, it’s just like a baby, you can do this!” She reassured her.

She heard my feet up, my dad told me, “Get get back to bed!” He answered firmly.

I huffed back to my room, and laid there awake...

The next morning, I ran into the laundry room, and saw my mom cuddling with the calf.

She mooed at me, as if telling on me.

I giggled, as I watched my mom startled awake.

I learned, when it comes down to it, you do whatever it takes to keep animals alive.

In addition, to a cow, we had chickens. One of the bantam chicks came out a little crippled.

I watched my mom, dip the babies beak into a sugar water mixture. As she proceeded to give the chick physical therapy. Surprisingly, the chick was able to stand. Later would become our best egg layers.

When I was in college, my parents had a baby chick very weak in the shell.

My mom and I helped it out of it’s shell. The umbilical cord was barely attached to the shell.

I quickly scrambled to find a good cardboard box, and small heating pad.

In between my exams for school. I kept an eye on the chick. My mom said, the chick might not make it...”

“Well, we have to try,” I said optimistically.

My mom smiled at me, “You sound like me,” she said proudly.

After an intense 48 hours the baby chick pulled through.

As a student trying to pick a major. I didn’t know how these experiences would shape me.

Until my daughter was four years old. I decided to start my own hobby farm.

I bought a batch of chicks from a local hatchery. My sister was drawn to this chick with spaweled legs. After some research I created a splint for the little chick. From a hair tie and a peice of a straw. It was able to walk on its feet, but lacked the strength to keep fighting to stay alive. So I grabbed the most docile baby chick and had my sister hold the baby chick as it passed. We shed tears, as I told her, we did the best we could for her. Gave her a good life. She died knowing she was loved.

On top of chickens. I had bought a family of Nigerian dwarfs to start my herd. I learned, keeping them alive was more than feeding and providing shelter.

While I was at a family Fourth of July party, a predator had gotten into my pen. Shocking attacked the older goats.

I rushed the most critical to the vet.As the vet was drawing the syringe.

She had passed away, and that had broken my heart in two. I looked at her, and told her, “ You did a good job mama, your babies are safe.” She nuzzled me and passed away.

Now I had the two kids and her sister to look after. The sister was in critical condition. I was instructed to give her a shot around the clock. The vet said she would be vulnerable to predators. So, I did the first thing I could think of, and brought the goat into the bathroom. As I proceeded to rub the open wounds with Neosporin. My nephew said, “Auntie goats don’t go in the house.”

I smiled, “This one does!”

Without hesitation, I called my mom, asking her, “What am I going to tell the kids if she doesn’t make it?” My anxiety creeping in.

She reminded me, “You can do this!”

Two weeks passed, she was finally strong enough to go outside in the new pen.

Heartbreakingly, I saw her search for her sister in every stall. As I watched her grieving loss.

Telling people I kept a goat in the bathroom is my nephews favorite story to share.

My mother is responsible for shaping my moral values. Without her, I would not of had the confidence to nurse animals back to health. Or instill an appreciation of living creatures onto my daughter, nephew, and nieces.