28. Drop by Drop

18/11/08

B. and I have cared for sick animals before. A nestling robin brought in by one of the cats was given a warm nest in a bowl and took small worms from our fingers. It's 'peeping' woke us in the morning awoke us and filled us with parental warmth. A hedgehog picked up from where it sat dazed by the road ate dog food and the next day delighted us by trotting round the spare room.
By the end of their second days in our care they were dead.

So what hope for us of bringing 3 cows and 6 chickens back from the brink? Very little. Each time we've returned, we've approached with trepidation. Each time we're surprised to see 9 pairs of eyes still looking back.

The goats seem built for anything. That first day they gulped down the water we gave them and pushed each other out of the way to reach the food we threw in. We saw to them first. Easier than tending to the dying.

The chickens came next. We used pieces of straws as pipettes to drop, drop, drop water onto the side of each beak. The birds just blinked and let the water spill onto their feathers. But we continued. 3 drops for each. Guess work. Step by step, feel your way. We topped up the feeder with the grain and left them.

The cows. What do you do to save a starving cow? We went for water again, this time in the bottles left for the lambs. They were only small, perhaps they had been bottle fed too. As we stepped into the pen, they stirred, alarmed at the intrusion and heaved onto their knees. We froze. So did they. We made sounds, like seasoned farmers - sounds that come without you thinking. They stayed still. We took a step forward, then slowly inched toward them. At last we were close enough to touch. A tentative pat on the neck. Still they stayed. Too ill to move? Unsure?
We each took one. One hand gently on the neck, then slowly the bottle, all of the time making these strange sounds that we seemed to think would calm them. At first, nothing. But as the first drops left the bottle and touched their tongues, they sprang to life and sucked. The magic of water, instant effect, like a drop on an ink blot. The bottles were so small and the cows suddenly so strong, they were emptied in seconds. While I tended to the third, smallest calf, B. went to fill buckets.

Back to the chickens, 3 more drops. This time, from one a shake of the head, from another a swallow.

Next to keep them warm and clean. We found wheelbarrows and spades. Hauled out the bodies and the excrement. We dug a hole together. It was hard work, but important. Part of a mission.

The farm was well stocked - food for a full farm, so plenty for the remnants. We filled stalls with fresh hay, filled troughs with feed and water. We found a stock of UHT milk in the cafe - the cows drank it down. The chickens accepted some drops.

We slept on the hay bales that night under tablecloths. It was cold and scratchy. But it didn't seem right to leave.