Siobhan a Year Later

This is a follow-up to Siobhan's story from last year.  That story told how Siobhan got Pseudomonas mastitis in her right rear quarter and nearly died.

I was a day away from putting Siobhan down to end her intense suffering when my son and our three grandchildren joined me in the milking parlor.  They prayed over and sang to Siobhan while I stripped her swollen, painful quarter.  They also fed her treats and for the first time since she got sick, she didn't kick in pain.  Shortly after they left, a vet from the University of TN called me--on a Sunday afternoon--and begged me not to put Siobhan down.  He said if I gave her a chance, he believed she could get well--even though Psuedomonas is considered untreatable and incurable.  That vet ended up being a lot like the biblical angel that told Abraham not to sacrifice Isaac--he played his part and disappeared from the story, never to be heard of again!  He never answered my emails or calls, and I was on my own with a cow I hoped and believed God might spare, but not quite sure what I was supposed to do.

Before I learned it was Pseudomonas, a local vet had already given me a shot of Excede and a prescription for Pirsue (assuming it was Staph A again).  So I carried through with the Pirsue in all four quarters for 8 days; gave Siobhan large doses of oil of oregano essential oil in her feed twice a day, along with Vitamin E and probiotics; and massaged and stripped the RR quarter twice a day until the calf could keep her udder milked out.  At that point I quit milking her to avoid spreading anything.  Siobhan and Remy lived in the barnyard while I hauled all the manure and bedding away to a separate compost heap where it would not be spread on the pastures.  

An update from late August recounts some further challenges Siobhan faced, including an annoying fungal infection of her udder, another residual of my grave mistake in using the Tamm Udder Support.  Essential oils, colloidal silver and Lotrimin finally resolved that problem after months of treatment.  However, there was some hopeful news in her further milk tests--especially that throughout her illness, the Staph A she had in Feb. 2014 never reappeared.  That was the best news I had during a horrible year!

In October 2015, Siobhan and Remy got out of the barnyard for the first time since he was a few days old, the end of May.  They had two months out in a pasture until I weaned Remy in early December, and Siobhan came back to the barnyard so I could supervise her anti-self-sucking harness.  Our vet came for a consultation about Siobhan's future, and we made a plan.  The plan changed a few times for various reasons, but here's what we finally did.  Remy was weaned, Siobhan tested negative for Pseudomonas again, and I dried her off.

Once Siobhan was dried off, she was ready for surgery.  I consulted with vets at UT and the University of GA, as well as two other helpful vets with experience in mastitis.  There was a general consensus that, due to scar tissue from the Pseudomonas and probable damage to her lymph system which drains the udder of infection, if Siobhan ever calved and lactated again, she would almost certainly get mastitis.  That much the vets agreed on.  As far as how to prevent that, the vets had various solutions to offer.

1)  A complete mastectomy, a very serious surgery under general anesthesia, with a risk of death, infection, seroma, etc.  This would obviously completely eliminate any chance of her getting mastitis.  It could be followed a couple weeks later by an ovariectomy (spaying her) to keep her from getting pregnant.  That could be done through a flank incision (more risky) or laparoscopically (much less risky, but more expensive).

2)  An ovariectomy (spaying) through a flank incision, at the same time tying off the main artery that supplies the udder.  This would result in atrophy of the udder.  There was a slight chance that collateral circulation might develop, but as long as Siobhan would not be calving and lactating, this should greatly reduce her chance of getting mastitis.

The anxious part of me wanted Siobhan's udder to be gone so she could never have mastitis again.  A friend who had it done for her cow was very supportive and helpful--without making me feel guilty if I decided against it.  The cow mama part of me did not want my cow to suffer the pain and months-long recovery of a total mastectomy, and after the months of stress I endured last year, I wasn't sure *I* could deal with the pain and suffering and potential complications.  Our vet highly recommended against it.  Herb supported whatever I decided, and in the end I had to make the decision for Siobhan; no one else could do it for me.  After spending time in meditation and prayer for wisdom, I felt convinced that the Lord had brought Siobhan this far to spare her--and the ovariectomy at UT kept coming to mind.

On March 21, we took Siobhan up to the University of Tennessee, 2 hours away.  She led off the trailer like the sweetheart she is and got the attention of a crowd of vet tech students, who thought she was so cute!

It was SO hard to leave my girl there, but I knew she was in good hands.   Siobhan had her surgery on March 24, with the assistance of three different vets.  They used a left flank incision.  The ovariectomy (spaying) was as easy as expected, although they had some difficulty reaching the right pudendal artery due to her smaller size, and the surgery took several hours.  As a precaution, they gave Siobhan IV fluids and antibiotics and decided to keep her over the weekend to observe her.

We picked Siobhan up on March 28.  They didn't even bother leading her through the chute, but just led her out the door.  We had a chance to talk with all three vets who worked on her and get their input for her follow-up care.

Here's Siobhan back at home four days post-op, showing off her incision.  The stuff around the edges of the shaved portion is sterile drapes that they glued to her hide to keep them from falling off if she moved.

A close-up of the incision, which would need the stitches removed 10-14 days post-op.  Meanwhile, I was instructed to take Siobhan's temperature every morning for the next 10 days and to closely observe the incision for any redness or drainage.  By God's grace, her recovery was textbook-perfect with nothing to cause me any worry.

On April 8, two weeks after Siobhan's surgery, came the moment I'd been dreaming of for more than a year.  It was a moment I had hoped for, even while I dreaded that it might only come figuratively for Siobhan's spirit when her body found relief from suffering.
(Even a year later, it makes me cry to write that!)

The moment Siobhan didn't know to hope for, but that she sure knew how to enjoy to the fullest . . .

Psalm 29
(verses 2, 4 & 6)

Ascribe to the Lord the glory due His name;
worship the Lord in the splendor of His holiness.
The voice of the Lord is powerful;
the voice of the Lord is majestic.
He makes Lebanon leap like a calf,
Sirion like a young wild ox. . . .

Every time I see these photos of Siobhan leaping like a calf, I smile all over again.  Her joy was and still is infectious!

About two weeks after Siobhan's surgery, our vet took out her stitches and pronounced that she looked excellent.  It was time to let her really go free, so that Ebby and her calf Buddy could enjoy the Home Pasture.

Despite Siobhan's stellar behavior on the lead rope at UT, I thought it would be wise to tie her behind the Doodad while I drove it slowly and have Herb walk nearby, in case she got excited and pulled too hard for one of us to lead her.  It's a good thing I know my girl so well!  I took this photo from the driver's seat, and Siobhan was definitely leading!

Siobhan was happily reunited with Royal, and after determining that he was Head Bull and she was Head Cow, they set off to enjoy the large Back Pasture together.

That evening I was filled with joy at the sight of Siobhan grazing beside Royal, being a cow again . . . for the first day of the rest of her life.  The last verse of Psalm 29 expresses my feelings perfectly: "The Lord gives strength to His people; the Lord blesses His people with peace."  It was a long and difficult year for both Siobhan and me, but at the end of it, we both have peace, and I thank the Lord from both of us!

Merry Soggy Christmas!

Merry Christmas from water-logged Zephyr Hill Farm!  Come along with us on our Christmas Day swim drive!  For the record, these photos were a lot darker, but I lightened them enough to show details.  It never got this light all day!

At 10 this morning, the creek through the lower part of our property was overflowing its banks after several days of rain followed by almost 3 inches of rain in the last 24 hours.

By 2:30, there was a lot more water.  No wonder, since the rain never let up all day!

We headed out to take a look at things.  Looking down at the Lower Pasture from above, we can see channels carved by runoff from the neighbors' adjoining hill that was deforested this year.

The Lower Pasture has a creek running through it where no creek should be.

Normally the "creek" is a dry bed that runs along the fence before it cuts across the Lower Pasture, but today it was a torrent.

Standing at the Back Pasture gate, we could see the water pouring out of the pond.  So far, the dam is holding . . .

We parked the Doodad and waded to the gate.  Misty is such a faithful companion, always ready to come with us and check on things, no matter the weather.

Ebby, Royal and Ebby's calf Seb are in the Back Pasture.  They're going to need a new hay bale soon, but at least we don't have to fill water troughs!  That tipped-over thing is a heavy wooden mineral feeder that was here when we bought the place.

Herb really likes his Muck boots and his LLBean rain coat and rain pants!

"This deep."

This photo shows the pond runoff on the left.  The drainage pipe discharges water coming in from the hunting preserve off to the right.  Those two streams of water join up here . . .

. . . and pour toward the front of our property, overwhelming the normally dry creek bed.

We headed back up toward the house, very thankful for hills!  Royal and his band have a hill and wooded shelter; Wellie and Remy are in the Home Pasture which is a hill with a shelter up top; Siobhan is in the barnyard, which may be soggy because it's flat, but she's got the barn.  The chicken coop is in the barnyard, too.

Just beyond Wellie and Remy's shelter, the horses are on the highest part of the farm.  They may be wet, but their hay is high and dry in their new Hay Hut.

A flood like this brings worries about whether fences will stand, whether trees might fall, and whether the dam will hold.  It brings slogging mud and damp and inconvenience, but up on our hills, we and the animals are safe.

I must admit that after days and days of rain, I've looked around and imagined how the people back in Noah's day must have felt as the water crept higher and higher.  Of course, they had no idea it was going to keep coming until it drowned them.  It makes me thankful for God's promise never to flood the earth again.  I'll be eagerly looking for some sun and a rainbow, but meanwhile, we have so much to be thankful for!

Christmas may feel different when it's soggy and muggy instead of cold and brisk, yet the reason we celebrate is still the same.  "Joy to the world, the Lord has come!"

Merry Christmas!

*We ended up getting 4.14" of rain in less than 24 hours on Christmas Day, about twice the all-time high.  We're still here, the only casualty being the overturned feeder you can see behind the cattle in the Back Pasture.  We got another torrential rainfall on the 28th with an even higher flood level, so we sure were ready for the sunshine we're getting today, Dec. 29!

Our Heart-Home

Sometimes your heart dwells somewhere on earth that has nothing to do with where you actually live.  For many of our family members, that place is out in far West Texas where some of our extended family are ranchers.  They have generously shared their home with us over the years, and this semi-desert ranch in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains holds a very special place in our hearts.  It's not our home, but it is our Heart-Home.

Some of us made it out there last summer, but our son Jim hasn't been there in years.  This past weekend he had the opportunity of a lifetime--to fly out with a friend who pilots his own helicopter.

I once flew across half the continent of Africa in a 6-seater Cessna, and I'm pretty sure I left claw marks in the dashboard, clutching on for dear life.  After that exhilarating and terrifying experience, you would never in a million years get me into a helicopter!  When Jim texted us this photo, he called it "So happy together!"  While I admire the sleek helicopter, the ancient Jeep is more my speed for seeing the countryside!  However, that doesn't stop me from vicariously reveling in Jim's incredible aerial experience.  I hope the following eagle-eyed views will give you a glimpse of why this beautiful place will always be our Heart-Home.

Have you ever seen an upside-down rainbow?

The small white "dash" in the center of the photo is the Limpia house where Jim and his friend John are staying.  Those spots of light are reflections from the camera, because there's not another house to be seen.

As I look at the last photo, a chorus crescendoes in my head:

"Our God is an awesome God, He reigns from heaven above." 

Can't you just see Michael W. Smith and his band gathered right here, singing with all their hearts to the awesome God that created this place?

Thank you, Jim and John, for taking us along with you!

Lucas and the Big Storm

This is a true story told to me recently by my friend Kirby, whom I'll call The Farmer, about her calf Lucas, who was born earlier this year.

It was calm, dry and very dark when The Farmer went down to the barn early one morning.  She was just finishing her chores when a storm hit suddenly with strong winds and buckets of rain pouring down.  The roar of the rain on the tin roof horrified poor Lucas.  His eyes got as big as saucers and he started to dart outside, but the torrential rain plowed into his face.  He turned and ran back inside the barn.  The Farmer reached out and took his face in her hands.  She began stroking his face and telling him everything would be okay.  Lucas instantly calmed down and stopped trembling.  Meanwhile, his mother and another cow stood nearby, too busy eating to notice the rain or care about Lucas.

It immediately struck me that Kirby has painted a vivid picture of what God is to us.  He is our ever-caring Farmer, even when those close to us are so preoccupied with what's important to them that they don't have a clue what's happening to us.  All too often when a storm hits, I, too, turn and try to run from it--and like Lucas, I run straight into the storm.  Yet when the real storm hit Lucas in the face, he knew to run to The Farmer for comfort and safety.

This photo of Lucas' sweet, trusting face as he looks at Kirby is a poignant reminder to me to remember where true comfort and safety lie.  Even if it seems that where I am right now is a very scary place, I am so much safer in my Farmer's arms.  May I always turn to Him and trust Him as Lucas did his Farmer.

"I Had a Farm in Alabama"

"I had a farm in Africa, at the foot of the Ngong Hills."

With this simple sentence, Isak Dinesen (Karen Blixen) began her book Out of Africa, the story of how an amazing farm transformed her life.  While I am no Isak Dinesen and the only book I've written about our farm was published on Shutterfly, Herb and I also had a farm that changed our lives.

We had a farm in Alabama, at the top of Sand Mountain.

We purchased the 60-acre farm and rundown house in September 2007, named it Leahaven in anticipation of what it could become, and set about turning it into a retreat for pastors and missionaries.  We rented a Bobcat and a couple of dumpsters and spent several weekends cleaning up 50 years' worth of garbage on the property.  We hired a crew of talented young men to rehabilitate the decrepit 42-year old farmhouse.  And in the process of restoring this run-down old farm, we fell in love with it.

Other than vacationing on a ranch in West Texas, we had no experience with rural life, but we soon discovered that we loved it.  

We loved the wildlife, the helpful neighbors, the quaint small-town life.  And most of all, we loved the peace and quiet and the beauty of God's creation outside our front door.

A short year after we bought Leahaven, we stumbled upon our current home, Zephyr Hill Farm, and took the leap of faith to sell our suburban Victorian house and move out to the boondocks.  For the next seven years, we continued to run both farms.

Over the years our one-dog, two-horse family grew to include three horses, a pony, a half dozen Dexter cattle, three dogs, two cats, a half dozen chickens and ducks, and most notably, three grandchildren.  It became harder and harder to get down to Leahaven, an hour away, to clean it and mow the lawn and bush hog the pastures--much less get to spend time there ourselves.

Finally we realized that we could no longer keep up with two farms, and we regretfully decided we had to sell our farm in Alabama.  On September 24, a little more than eight years after we bought it, we sold Leahaven to the son of the farmer we bought it from.  Saying goodbye to Leahaven brought plenty of tears and left us with heavy hearts for days.  Now almost two weeks later, I find myself filled more with thankfulness for all that Leahaven brought us.

Thanks to Leahaven, we've spent hours socializing, laughing and fellowshipping with friends.

Thanks to Leahaven, we have a new tradition of annual visits from far-flung family members.

Thanks to Leahaven, we've learned to handle farm equipment and tackle jobs we would never have thought of taking on.

Thanks to Leahaven, we've learned to value the cycle of the seasons, each one beautiful in its own right.

And finally, thanks to Leahaven, we have Zephyr Hill Farm, our cattle and other animals, and our life in the country today.  Without our experience of country life at Leahaven, we would never have taken the plunge into this life full-time.  How much we would have missed!  How much, how very much, we owe that farm in Alabama!

Thank you, Lord, for Leahaven.

And thank you, Leahaven, for everything.