A Week in Two Parts

~ two of my alpacas ~

Some have said they really enjoy my farm posts and, in that interest, I'm going to encapsulate the last week for you. This is Part 1 and Part 2 will be on Monday, after tomorrow's Sabbath Keeping.

A week ago Thursday, or maybe Friday, I noticed an alpaca wasn't acting "right". Anyone who works, or lives, with animals notices when something is "off" and my general attitude is, it's always easier and less expensive to stay well than to get well.  'Paca Rose seemed a bit off and I started keeping a close eye on him. It didn't take long because he went down, rolled on his side,stayed there and he couldn't get up without help. I de-wormed him with Panacure, helped him to his feet and he went on his merry way. The next morning, he was down again so I de-wormed him with Ivermectrin, helped him to his feet and kept an eye on him. 

This goes on for days...him down, me getting him up...but he's in good spirits, is alert, is eating and drinking, but when he lays on his side, he cannot get up. (Maybe he's too fat???) He gets up just fine when he sits down upright; it's a puzzle for sure.

Dr. Anne, Daddy John's sister and one of the best vet's around, and I ran into each other at Big Lots. She and Henry, her husband, and I, sat on the furniture for sale and caught up, during which, I told her about the 'paca and said, "Is it time to call you?" She grinned and said, "Naw, you're doing what I'd do except I'd give him a shot or two." 

{As an aside, don't you love a vet who teaches and trains you to look after your own animals? Her attitude is, "call me for the emergencies" and I love her for it. When she first came back to Tazewell, I told her Mother, "Anne is a good vet and I think she has the makings of a great one." I sincerely thought so then and time has only strengthened my opinion.}

Anyway, Thanksgiving morning, we had six inches of snow on the ground with drifts of two feet and more. At dawn, as is my habit, I start going from window to window, counting animals...26 sheep, 8 horses, 4 alpacas, 3 guinea's...and found only three alpacas. 'Paca Rose was missing. I waited until the sun was well and truly up, 7:00, before donning four layers, Muck boots, Dave's old ski coat and hat, put sweaters on the dogs, then headed outside. I decided to use the Ranger as it provides not only transportation but shelter. The dogs ride with me and, should I be injured (unless I was unconscious), I could always crawl back to the Ranger, start it, be warm and possibly even get to an outside fence where I could flag down a passing farmer.

Yes, with God's help, I'm pretty sure I could do all that because the first September Dave and I lived here, while carrying a basket of laundry, I stepped off the back porch, a distance of six inches, and heard, then felt, my right ankle snap like a twig. I'll have to admit a curse word ran through my mind; it was my intention to put up the laundry, collect the truck keys then head to Princeton to pick up my cat at the vet's office. Zoe had been there for three days with some mysterious illness and I'd called every praying, animal person I knew to pray for her recovery. That morning, the vet called to say, "Zoe's going to make it, you can pick her up this morning." I was going.

The pain wasn't that bad extreme but I started limping immediately. Dave asked, "What's wrong? What did you do to yourself?" I explained I'd twisted my ankle (mostly true) and it hurt (totally true). He said, "Why not wait until Monday to get Zoe?" 

I just kept walking toward the truck. The neighbor he called said, yes, she'd ride with me and soon enough, we were headed to Princeton, and I was driving. When we'd navigated the fifty-mile one way trip, the vet explained he had no clue what was wrong with Zoe. He knew she was jaundiced but didn't know why and had pumped her full of liquid antibiotics and she'd recovered. I explained about the many folks who'd been praying for her and he said, "That works too." 

I handed the truck keys to my neighbor and said, "I broke my ankle, will you drive home?" She blanched and said, "When did you break your ankle?" I explained and she said, "I cannot believe you drove up here; you could have come on Monday!" 

Yeah, yeah, already heard that this morning. The vet offered to x-ray my ankle but I said, "Why bother? I know it's broken, I heard it break. Right now I just need to get home and get off it" so we got back on the road, Zoe in my arms and me crooning to her like a loon.

When we got home, Dave made me get back in the truck and he drove me to the emergency room where they said (big surprise!), It's broken." They wrapped it, gave me the number of an ortho specialist and for six weeks, I limped around on crutches. 

~ my helpers, Sophie, Sam, Sadie - front to back ~

That's why I'm pretty sure if I get hurt and I'm not unconscious, I can crawl back to the Ranger and go for help. Or, at least have shelter until, hopefully, someone notices the Ranger sitting in the same spot and comes to investigate. I suppose I could carry a mobile phone but...there isn't any cell phone reception around here. 

Anyway, back to the original story...the Ranger needs a battery and wouldn't start. I had to get the jump starter (thank God I bought one last year), start the battery and begin my search. I searched for two and a half hours before I gave up. During that two and a half hour period, I got the Ranger stuck in a huge snow drift, had to dig out three times, using only my hands, and to lend more humor to the story, had to re-stack the hay in the back of the Ranger because Sam stepped on the UP button, raised the hydraulic bed and emptied it.

Hey, you might as well laugh because it's all funny and the statistics are gruesome...one out of one will, eventually, die. At my end, I want to be singing "Jesus Loves Me" or, at the very least, laughing my way into heaven.

By this time I was anxious, coldish, tired and still no dang alpaca! I decided to ride down the road and ask Daddy John if he'd help me (remember, this is Thanksgiving morning). He was filling the whatever it's called with silage so he could feed his cattle and, bless him!, he said, "Let's look now", turned off his tractor and got in the Ranger. I asked him to drive so I could, hopefully, keep the three dogs off him; they were thrilled to have someone new to love on and, promptly, tried to climb in his lap. I pulled the dogs into my lap and, as we're pulling into the road, my door swings open and I begin falling...out. I think I yelped, grabbed the steering wheel while John made a swipe at me, and pulled the door shut behind me. No one fell out so it's all good.

We headed back to the farm, went through the lower pasture and, in the center pasture, found the 'paca stretched out on the ground, dead, we thought. He was only four feet from one of my passes but, in my defense, he was on my upper, blind side, and at that particular point, I was busy trying to figure out how to not turn the Ranger over and go downhill. Daddy John has way more experience than I and he knows, better than I, how the machine will handle on a steep hill. (I knew he'd love driving it and figured he should get some fun for his trouble in helping me -grin-.)

John got the animal to his feet and moved him a short distance, into another lot, where he could be kept captive. We bedded him on hay, then piled hay around him so he could sleep warm and eat without moving. Frankly, I was amazed, shocked and surprised we got him this far. When we first found him, he wasn't moving and we both thought he'd frozen to death. As we approached him, his ear twitched and John said, "He might just make it, let's give him a chance."  I only had Gatorade on hand, so cut open all the packages, mixed powder with warm water and then drenched the alpaca meaning I poured it down his throat. The Gatorade gave his system much needed energy in the form of sugar and electrolytes...fast!  

Throughout the day I watched him and would visit him to talk, lay hands on him and pray (yes, I am one of those Christians) and breath into his nostrils. I wanted to try and warm him up and breathing into him was the only thing left. I would match my breaths to his...when he breathed in, I would breath out...into my cupped hand surrounding his nostrils. When he breathed out, I would ready myself to breath warmth into him again. At dusk, I left him for the last time and walked back to the house; it was always up to God but now, more than ever.

Friday morning, it was 9 degrees F and when I looked out the window, I didn't see movement. I thought the worst and prepared myself, emotionally and physically, for the work before me. Andy, the young man who did some farm work this summer, came at 9:00 and I brought him up to speed. He headed to the stable to get the tractor while I headed to the alpaca. When I'm approaching animals, I always talk to them, especially if they can't see me. I don't want to frighten them...no need in wasting precious energy in fear...so I speak in low, comforting tones..."hey boy, easy boy, how ya doing boy, feeling better?, it's only me"...and so on. It does seem to help. Anyway, he was still alive (!!!!) so I helped him to his feet and stood with him, giving support and crooning in a low voice. Andy came 'round the corner of the barn and looked surprised, "He's alive? Did you get him to his feet?" Yes to both so Andy took over my job while I went to the house for vehicle keys so I could drive to Dr. Anne's, to buy electrolytes, a Vitamin B-12 shot and a (I think) potassium sodium shot which I promptly brought home and gave to 'Paca Rose.  I mixed the electrolytes with warm water , gave it to him to drink, and he did.

~ Merry Christmas ~

{In the interest of full disclosure, I must admit I looked longingly at that Vitamin B-12 shot. Very longingly.}

All day Friday, he wandered around his small lot, a little unsteady due to being weak but on his feet. This morning, Saturday, he was down again but when I helped him to his feet, he immediately stood and has been up all day. 

Getting a roughly 200 pound animal to his feet is no small task. Fortunately, he has a long neck and once I get his neck headed the right way, I can heave/roll him to his knees and he lumbers UP. He's eating, drinking, defecating, urinating, eyes are clear, and, while up, seems to be fine but, should he lay down on his side, he cannot get up without help. I'm flummoxed, exhausted and am going to pour a big glass of something alcoholic to drink. Do you think it would hurt to take two Ibuprofen?

Part 2 on Monday.

Blessings ~ Daddy John ~ alpaca ~ Vitamin B-12 ~ electrolytes ~ 800 mg Ibuprofen (for me) ~ Dr. Anne ~ my helpers, the dogs ~