Goodbye, Red

Late this morning our vet came to Soggy Bottom to put down our mare, Red. I bought Red from my friend Ralph Bestvater. She was an American Quarter horse, about 26 years old. This is a photograph I took of her ear during winter several years ago.
Red was one of the most patient horses I have ever known. She took her shots without complaint as well as her oral medications. Red loved to trot, as if that was the only speed she knew. The only discipline problem I ever had with her was what I called the “Texas two-step.” When Red was tired of riding she would never buck or rear back. She just kind of did a little dance with her hind legs to let you know the session should be ending soon. I would continue to ride to let her know she didn’t get to make those decisions.
For the past year we have been fighting a persistent uterine infection. She lost a considerable amount of weight. I inoculated her with antibiotics and a medication that made her uterine wall dry up about four weeks ago. Red still dropped the weight until her hip bones were protruding. She did not seem to feel any exterior pain and continued to eat.
This morning after feeding I put on her red halter and took her into the back yard. Green grass and clover were hers to enjoy for the last two hours of her life. Dr. Baehler arrived about 11:45. He looked her over and said it was time to let her go. I led Red to the end of the driveway. Dr. Baehler injected her with a medication that is used to put down a variety of animal like the family dog. Red did not flinch, but maintained her usual patient deportment. The medication took effect fairly quickly. Red sat down and then rolled over to her right side. After a few moments Dr. Baehler listened for a heart beat and found none. A rendering service will come by this afternoon and pick up her body.
I had said goodbye to Red during the morning feeding. When the vet was gone I went into the house and got a hymnal. I went back outside and stood beside her. I sang all seven stanzas of St. Francis of Assisi’s, “All Creature of Our God and King.” When I was finished I patted Red on her head, thanked her again for the years of joy she had give me, and said goodbye.

Early Spring

We have had an unusually warm winter. Temperatures this week in Kansas will reach 80 degrees. The plants, trees, weeds, and birds at our place have no doubt about the season. The pear trees are crowned in white. Forsythias are highlighted in yellow. My peach trees are leafing out and I worry about a late killing frost. Small reconnaissance parties of red robins hop around the yard conducting a census of earthworms, grubs, and insects for the folks back in Florida. The red wing black birds queue up on the fence post nattering about their winter carnival as the white crowned sparrows plan their voyage north. The cardinals have taken their posts, haling one another in the early morning across wheat fields and woodlots. Plovers, also called killdeer, skitter across the pasture piping their high-pitched calls. They always seem rather nervous to me, sounding alarums at the most non-threatening pilgrim. I only await the scissor-tailed flycatcher.
All last weekend fleets of motorcycles whizzed up and down the interstate highways.
This past week we cleaned out our hen house and set up a small stall for new chicks. We put down fresh bedding material, bought chick starter feed and a new water feeder. The heating lamp was tested and found to be in good working order. Six chicks came home with us on Saturday: silver laced Wyandottes, brown leghorns, and California whites. This morning two were dead and the other four were gone. From the scat on the floor I think it was a skunk. We ordered new ones this afternoon. They are sent by U.S. mail to our farm and feed store. They should be in on April 6th.
Christopher and I set out new fence posts for the vegetable garden and strawberry patch. I hope to get the fencing up tomorrow, in time to plant lettuce, spinach, and peas before the next spring showers that will hopefully come the later part of the week. Christopher had also built a rain harvesting system out of 55 gallon barrels. With the last brief rain we collected 275 gallons of water. We will attach soaker hoses to them when we need to water the gardens.
Life re-emerges in bud, chick, and work. Seasons do not so much change as they merge and meld into today and tomorrow. Seasons do not change like overcoats. They blend with the power of youth and death. As far as we human beings know this is the eternal process. For me it is a sacred process. I never cease to be filled with wonder at the scent of pine bedding and wet earth, the body odor of man sweat and horses, the aroma of freshly baked bread and musk.