Must the show go on...

We have been asked on many occasions by people "how do you go on?", usually in reference to a death on the farm, especially those under tragic or distressing circumstances. Most of the time we say we have other animals to care for so we simply must continue. In fact, as strange as this may sound, sometimes a death can give you strength to go on. Of course we are sad, shattered in fact, but seeing that animal laying at rest before us highlights the other animals needs. You realise that this can, will, happen to every other animal we have as permanents on the farm. Seeing, experiencing a dead animal has you wanting to care for all others so much, give them life for as long as you can. To do this requires constant care both emotionally, physically and medically. A happy, healthy animal is usually prone to longer and greater life. 

There are times when it seems like there is some sort of bleak foreboding cloud hanging over the farm when a multiple of deaths occurs. We have to remember where most of these animals have come from. Not in the address but more so the situation. The backgrounds of some of these animals are horrific at best. Enough pain and suffering to shorten the life of even the strongest of beasts, and usually it does. How do we go on? At times we search our inner self to push on but sometimes you question if what you do is making a difference. Then, we all remember that line - "rescuing an animal may not make a difference to all.....but ask that animal what a difference it has made to them". So, again, we go on.

But everybody has a breaking point. There are times that one death too many shuts you down. A death so horrific it defeats you. We have to remember that rescuers are only human. Sometimes we need help. Sometimes carrying on, witnessing more deaths seems too difficult to a mind struggling. It doesn't need to be a big animal, a horse or cow, a sheep or goat. Even the smallest and most fragile of animals dying can tear your hearts out. You know, those animals so small in stature that everyone refers to them as "oh, it's just a...." 

And so comes 13/2/2020. 

Imagine starting your daily rounds by letting the babies out of their pen to roam the yards with you. Bart, Betty and Lilah, oh such beautiful souls. There is not much else that compares to a baby animal that clearly loves you the way you do it. It is satisfaction beyond all realms and puts you on a smile laden high to begin a day. Imagine first point of care being with 12 adorable pigs, far from babies anymore but babies in your eyes none the less. Feeding, cleaning, chatting, rubbing bellies. What more can you say. Imagine the pigs yard being no more than a few meters from your chicken yard....your next port of call. Carrying on making sure that all the pigs have everything they desire, including love, and frolicking with the babies each time you leave to gather something to return to the pigs yard with. Imagine doing this several times, say six to use a figure, walking directly past the chicken coop without a care nor suspicion. What would you care about? The chickens are next, you'll see them soon enough. And yes, you do, eventually it is time to feed the chooks.

We won't ask you to imagine past this point for we simply wouldn't want to place such images in your head. This day we enter and actually chat, make jokes as silly as it sounds, with the chooks in the front pen. They seem subdued, nervous, not their true clucky selves. Then we walk around to the rear of the coop and first spot one. Motionless. That thought goes through your head "oh, one has died overnight". Then we spot the second, then the third, then the fourth. Suddenly realism hits us like a sledgehammer. We see the feathers, we see the carnage. Then....we see body parts strewn in all corners of the coop. Immediately we know what it is. A fox. Hearts sink as we frantically evaluate in our minds the fact that in over four years we have had zero fox issues. You almost search for another reason. Denial? Guilt? But sobering it is the realisation that there is but only one answer. 

The next frantic and heart racing experience is surveying. These poor bodies are torn to bits. Without sounding too graphic there are bodies here, heads there, legs over the way. With each body you look and immediately name the boy or girl you are looking at. We love these birds, we know each and every one of them. Now we are the first to say that every animal on this planet is beautiful, of equal to the next but when you care for animals this closely you form special bonds with some. From one to the other we go......and then our hearts drop clean out of our chest when our worst fears are realised. That chook we adore, that chook who had carved herself a special place in our hearts and the farms story is laying not only dead beneath you but torn to shreds. Our beloved Isa was one of the victims. 

Everyone is quick to remind you that foxes are only surviving, they need food. Yes, we acknowledge that but in the coldness of discovery, for that brief period in your life, you suddenly hate foxes. We challenge anyone who has had this happen to say they have not felt short term disdain for the cunning predator. The trouble with foxes is they kill indiscriminately. They take food but leave behind them a trail of destruction. On occasions they may return for that "food" but on equal occasions they leave the slaughtered for dead. They have been known to take their young on killing sprees, to enter places such as a coop and teach their young how to kill. When this happens they, and their offspring, will obliterate entire pens simply for practice. 

Another thing people are quick to remind you of after the fact is what you "should" have done. Interrogate what you are or aren't doing. Sort of like a congregation of the armchair experts out for as much blood as the fox. Their manner is blunt and their care is not for what you may be feeling or how your mind may be coping but rather to express their perfection and obvious superior knowledge.....right from the keypad of their computer. This is, of course, a subject we could go on about but for today we leave it for another forum.

Robert, the rooster of only a few months. Gem, the older but loving Australorp. Annie, one half of a duo forever torn away. Isa, dear loved, beautiful, adorable, special, kind Isa. Our hearts were crushed that day. Seeing her, seeing all, in such turmoil. You first sigh as your stomach and heart sinks. Then you automatically imagine the fear and pain these poor souls must have endured as their final seconds on earth. Isa will sit in our hearts forever. We will never forget her. She was going nowhere from the very day she arrived on the farm. Such a special case we built an instant relationship such was the hands on closeness we had together. A girl that, in all honestly, we thought would only be with us for the shortest of time such was the terrible condition she arrived. We carried her daily from water bowl to feeder to bed and around again. We sat cradling her for hours as we talked to her. She had no ability to walk, something we foresaw as permanent and life ending. None the less we treated her. We gave her delicate touch and kissed her little head every step of the way. The day she actually walked, out of the blue, brought tears to our eyes. This wasn't meant to happen. From that day on, with her toeless feet, she would trot up to you for cuddles, learn again to get herself around and, in the end, have no restrictions what so ever. She was our pride and joy. So tiny, quaint but obviously full of strength. What she had go through would have finished most. 

We found Isa without her head. Then we found her head away from her body. Her mauled feathers and torso sickening in all it portrayed. The attack was brutal, vicious and unwarranted. Isa had beaten so much, she had overcome adversity, she was loving, kind and soft. We thought she would go on forever. Obviously not literally as, sadly, everything must die but Isa DESERVED to drift in her sleep when the time came. She had earned that as much as any animal. She was robbed of that and it is criminal of her passing. This we harbour anger but acceptance for it is done and we cannot turn back time. If we could we would have done so many times over on this farm. We love her as much today (as we type this) as we ever did and we are proud of her in every way. 

So in the end, sometimes you can't "just go on". Sometimes you struggle and that dark hole of death swallows you up. Deaths on a rescue farm are beyond comprehension. Multiple deaths are crippling. Losing a cherished animal in soul destroying. Losing that animal in the most bloodthirsty savage way finishes you completely. 

…..must the show go on? 

R.I.P 

Isa, Robert, Gem & Annie.

Darren, Hayley & all the Furever Farm team.