First Emergency Room Visit

As the heat index soared to 110, we mostly stayed in the air conditioning. Phil checked Charlemagne and Fern in the morning, and the baby stood up to eat. He went down to make check the lower pasture cows and on the way back, Charlemagne was nursing again.

Mid-afternoon, one of the boys checked on the chicks. They were expiring in the heat. The son responsible for food and water had forgotten to inform a strong adult that they needed more water, and the chicks were prostrate in the heat. Three had died, but the remaining 120 looked in bad shape. We got them water, started a rotary fan, and put Belladonna homeopathy in their water. The four worst-off birds got a pellet of Belladonna in their mouths, and I flicked water droplets on the birds a bit, and put many right up to their waterer.

Thankfully, we stopped the losses! No more death!

Until the evening, when Phil went up to the laying hens and found four dead layers in their enclosure. Why they hadn't simply walked outside into the open air is a bit beyond me, but four producing layer hens dead is a big blow. If figure it costs about $20 per bird to get them to production, and then they don't break even in feed costs. We raise them at a loss because we want top quality eggs for ourselves, but what a disappointment.

In the cool of the evening, I went down to put squash seeds into the ground. There is no rain today, but there may be some soon, and I want those seeds to be ready to sprout. I went over to see little Charlemagne, and he didn't rouse when I approached. He didn't twitch or try to get away when I touched him.

I stood him up, and he stood, barely, looking emaciated, not moving. What was going on?

Phil came then and we tied Fern. I milked her a bit, but she didn't have much let down, so I only got a few cups. I tubed that into the bull (pushed it down his throat so it went directly into his stomach). He seemed barely responsive.

I reheated the half gallon of colostrum I'd collected the day before and tubed all of that into the little guy. By then end, he was giving a weak sucking motion. And I tried to milk Fern again and put the minuscule amount into the bull, too.

Having milked out all that I could, without other milk to give the baby, I had done what I could.

What went wrong? Maybe Fern refused to let down, so the times Phil watched the baby eat, he wasn't getting much? It's a mystery to me. I was kicking myself for not doing a better job husbanding this new life, but then I realized: the first calf came when we were out of town, and lived without complications. The second calf came in the midst of six inches of rain, and had calf scours and near death. Not a normal birth or first week. And now we have a calf whose first full day is in 110 degree weather with an unproven mother. I had assumed that, because the baby had eaten well, that he would be fine. That's what the books all seem to indicate.

So what went wrong? I don't know. But it's upsetting and scary, just the same.

And, to finish off our day of trauma in the sun, right after I was done with the bull: for those who know our boys, which one would you predict to need to go to the ER first?

If you guessed Isaiah, you would be right! Right as night was coming, at about 9pm, Isaiah and Abraham were waiting for their bath when Isaiah cut his foot. He needed a quick shower from head to toe (all boys were fully grey with well tailings), and the bleeding stopped very soon, but looking at the gash showed subcutaneous fat. A quick internet search to confirm that I did need stitches showed that stitches are indicated for long gashes that won't close, for wounds that are jagged (not clean), for lacerations on parts of the body that get a lot of use, like hands and feet, for long gashes, and for wounds showing subcutaneous fat.

Since Isaiah fit every one of those qualifications, he and I headed up to the ER, since our primary care doctor and friend had just flown out earlier in the day.

His six centimeter gash required seven stitches. And he had a tetanus shot. Overall, from a trauma standpoint, this was as good as it gets: pain, but not horrible, no long-term negative consequences, time to look into where the hospital was (I now know where to go). We were thankful he wasn't more hurt.

And I was thankful all went well driving home at 1am. I saw eight deer, another small critter, and an opossum, so the opportunity for traumatic car crashes was certainly present, but we were safe.