It seems like just last week Rupert was killed. His death completely changed the energy of my farm and I’m far from over his loss. I haven’t been able to keep up with my blog. It’s hard to write when I haven’t been able to see much light. While Rupert’s death is still raw I’ve been dealt another massive loss.
My beautiful Gemma Jane passed away a couple weeks ago after fighting hard for several days. She ate something toxic and nothing I tried helped ease her suffering.
Writing posts like these are brutal. Having to relive devastating events is gut wrenching. I suppose my hope is maybe somehow it immortalizes my babies so they live on. I really don’t know but I know I have to tell their stories.
Gemma Jane was one of the first round of babies born on my property. She and her mother, Valentina, were close to death and of course it would be my very first time assisting goat labor. I cried a river as she came into this world and I’ve been crying rivers since she left. You can read about her miracle birth here.
Gemma had been sick for a few days. The first sign something was off was when she just didn’t come out of the pen to graze fresh grass. She was a voracious eater with a loud voice who normally yelled towards the house until I let her out to free range. The morning of her death I was able to get her to eat her favorite food, kudzu leaves, so I was beginning to have hope she would recover.
Baby Gemma & Friends
Shortly after breakfast I heard Gemma screaming. I ran to the pen to find her entangled in the branches of a downed tree. I rushed to help her and somehow was able to summon the strength to rip the tree branches away that surrounded her. I thought she was stuck but I soon realized her body was convulsing. She had no control. She was in extreme pain and scared.
Maybelle, hearing the commotion, ran over and attacked Gemma. She hadn’t done that before. This was the biggest clue that the end was near. Crying and hopeless, I threw Maybelle and her doeling out of the pen so they wouldn’t hurt Gemma.
Gemma was standing on her own at this point and chewing a few kudzu leaves I picked for her. Surely she was going to survive. I couldn’t possibly lose two of my most beloved animals so closely together. I went to pick more fresh kudzu leaves hoping she would continue eating. Eating is always a good sign.
I wasn’t gone 15 minutes before I made it back to the pen. As I approached the pen there was a distinct change in the other animals. Gemma didn’t peek around the corner when I unlatched the gate. Fear stabbed my heart. I dropped everything and ran to the back of the barn where I saw my baby girl lying still and flat on her side. Luca paced the outside of the pen whimpering. Gemma was gone and I wasn’t there for her. I was with her during her first breath and I should have been with her for her last.
It takes a tremendous amount of courage for me to stay with a dying animal during their last breaths. Last breaths are rarely peaceful. Despite knowing this I wanted to be with Gemma through every painful breath. But here she was laying there alone. She died alone. I hate myself.
I kneeled next to her body sobbing in disbelief. I cradled her head and cried into her neck. I pulled her into my lap and rocked her like I did when she was a baby. I couldn’t bring myself to accept that her body was still warm but she was no longer there. She looked so peaceful.
Sleeping baby Gemma.
I held her for hours and felt her body grow cooler and rigor set in. I tried closing her eyelids over her beautiful vivid blue eyes but they wouldn’t close. As time passed her eyes started to dull. I couldn’t bare it. My tears soaked her soft black fur and I held her tightly. I hated her body was cooling and increasingly rigid so I covered her with a comforter and continued to sit and lay next to her. I could barely see as my eyes swelled.
Eventually I stopped begging her to come back to me. I stroked her velvet soft nose and took in every detail of my last minutes with her, noted every beautiful feature I could. I never thought I would lose her, not so young and over something I should have been able to save her from. She was literally my farm dream come true. She was the embodiment of everything I imagined my farm life to be.
I remember sitting on my couch in my city apartment and imagining my perfect goat – it was Gemma. When she was born I couldn’t believe how lucky I was to somehow get the exact goat I’d wanted. Now she was gone. How can I stay here without Gemma and Rupert?
I was expecting a friend and her young son who were evacuating hurricane Irma. I knew I needed to clean myself up and gain my composure and couldn’t begin to wrap my head around Gemma’s death. I didn’t want to leave her. Leaving her meant this was real, this was the last time I’d see her. I felt if I just stayed with her she wouldn’t deteriorate.
I had no idea what to do with her. I couldn’t leave her there so I placed her gently into a large wheelbarrow, the one she loved to play in as a baby. As I rolled her out of the pen it was Luca’s turn to say his goodbye. He seemed very aware and gently smelled her face. His big eyes looked worried. He looked at me and whimpered. I hugged him and cried into his fur telling him he better not leave me too.
Maybelle and her doeling, Rosamond, approached next. To my surprise, Maybelle turned her back on Gemma and walked away but little Rosie was visibly shaken. She tried nudging Gemma and circled her repeatedly. I stood there until she eventually gave up and then carted my lifeless doe into the barn.
The shitty thing about solo farm life is not having someone else to experience the highs and lows with and that is especially true with a loss like this.
One difference between Gemma and Rupert’s death is I immediately felt Rupert’s presence. I do to this day. I can’t explain it but things happen daily that remind me of him. He’s still with me. Gemma on the other hand…there’s been nothing. No signs, no presence, just absence. No more demanding yells. No more velvety nose nudges. No more pink lipped Gemma smiles. Just a big aching hole in my chest.
Rest in Peace my perfect, smiley girl.
