RIP April: The Rest of the Story (for those who have asked)

     With several books to my credit citing phrases and their origins, I had never included "not out of the woods yet" though it's an expression I've come to appreciate more and more these past few days. (For the record, some trace the expression to Benjamin Franklin, who used it in the context of early frontiersmen, trekking through forests, not setting up camp until they'd found safe clearing, meaning for the more difficult part of the journey they were "not out of the woods yet".)
     For me, it will forever be an expression tied to baby goat, April, for she was not out of the woods figuratively, and when we found her, she was in the woods literally, where we found her (I thought) dead.(Thank God for Pat, who knows more about goats than I will ever hope to learn. He was worth his weight in gold yesterday.)
     Having played with her just the night before, sharing her with friends...hugging her goodnight when I did my final rounds, I honestly thought she was on the mend. She had made it two days, after serious rounds of de-worming medication and was eating quite well (though still distancing herself from the others). We kept a close eye on her, having given her a pretty strong dose of worm meds, parasites being the nemesis as anyone raising sheep and goats knows.
     But yesterday morning was different; April did not show up for breakfast. Walking into the woods, it was Pat who found her, second only to Hix, who just like the day she was born, had no intentions of letting us anywhere near. Her body was limp. Hix's growl, ferociously guttural. Her body had started to draw flies. It's the worst sight in the world, made tougher by not knowing how long Hix would stay poised...(My guess: until the first buzzard appeared as we all know how Hix feels about buzzards.) My only saving grace was that Hix had not yet eaten his breakfast.
     I confess, I assumed her dead; it was Pat who spotted (from a safe distance) a pulse! "She's still breathing!" he hollered. I bolted to the house for Hix's food...the distraction alone, giving Pat just enough time to pick her up. (God bless this man.)
     Feeding dogs and goats at warp speed, I cried when I saw Pat round the corner, holding a weak, but still alive little goat.
     "Doesn't look good" he warned; that much I could see. But she was trying and we were going to give it all we had.
 

A very concerned Rosebud helps me check on sweet April the night before

      The vet was on another farm call. Pat held her, dripping water from a syringe as I raided my basement fridge of every medical concoction I had on hand. One by one I texted pictures of bottle labels asking the vet: "Yes or no?" and if yes, "How much?" Antibiotics are a staple you keep on hand (big challenge if you're going organic); dewormers, iron supplements and B vitamins are things one should also have. I had some but not all. Turns out, it wouldn't have mattered anyway. April was deathly anemic. Diagnosis: Haemonchus Contortus, a.k.a. barber's pole worms.  (https://hoeggerfarmyard.com/goat-vs-barber-pole-dont-let-the-worms-win/ in case you're not familiar)...A deadly parasite increasingly problematic here in the South.
      This barber's pole worm I had been warned about early on...External exams are done by pulling down the eyelid to check for color. (Note: pull down your own; it should be pink, meaning your blood count is good; if it's white like April's was, the bloodsucking parasite has won. It's called the FAMACHA test. We didn't need a vet to tell us. This is the sort of thing Pat knows like the back of his hand, but I wanted to do everything possible just the same.)
     First water, then a little goat's milk....later a few drops of pedialyte. We had 2 of the necessary shots on hand; anything more would have to wait. For a few minutes she perked up (not as in walking, but as in holding her head up; I so wanted to believe, but Pat knew better. Still, he graciously allowed me my hope, I suspect knowing my vet bill was unnecessary. For my peace of mind, I had to try.)
     I texted, "She's fading fast...HURRY!" The vet rearranged his schedule, texting back "I'm on my way." Slower and slower her breathing...her heartbeat steadily fading..."Hang in there girl...Hang in there..." I begged as I walked, bounced and rocked... To her credit, she DID hang in-- just long enough for the vet to get one more shot in her, (a heavier dose of de-worming medication), but to no avail. I felt the last breath leave her tired little body. We had done all we could do...(For April at least...for now.)
     But her death was not in vain.
     While a weaker goat from birth, smaller in size, born to a very small mama, April was no doubt more susceptible to the parasite. However, what April sacrificed in her own precious life, may very well have saved the whole herd, for her death and now the vet's presence, prompted the FAMACHA check of everyone's eyes, and strict instruction for immediately de-worming of the entire lot.

While I would not normally share a picture of
a dying creature, I do so here for educational
purposes...Below is the chart, now commonly
used to judge externally, how anemia is diagnosed
per the FAMACHA method.

(There are various theories on how often to de-worm as the immunity against this parasite in particular is building rather rapidly. Some farmers alternate de-wormers; some adhere to "medicated" feeds; others drench orally, the sickest in the herd; as for me, the entire lot is undergoing a 5-day shift in diet to a strict deworming product, while moving their electric fencing for more regular rotation of their grazing pastures, seeded with grasses like lespedeza, a 'natural dewormer' we this year, planted in spades.)
     In the end, it is my nature to look for the good in these moments. They are painful. There are tears.  What's more, it is my nature to beat myself up pretty sorely for not having spotted things sooner...acted more aggressively...It's all a part of the process, I suppose. It also serves to remind that no matter how much we think we control this thing called life, in the end, it's the releasing to these life, not the resistance of, that makes for the greatest growth. (At least that's been my experience.)
     If a lesson can be learned, a warning shared, then even a little life like April's will have served a useful good, which in the end, is what she would've wanted.
[Post Script: I will be taking April's body in for autopsy to make absolutely certain nothing else contributed to her passing. As I have shared in prior posts,  Kord Diagnostic Laboratory on the Ellington Agricultural Campus in Nashville provides this service free of charge to those working to keep their farms contamination free. If you have lost a farm animal to disease or something unknown, I cannot recommend Kord highly enough. It is to everyone's advantage to keep track of things such as parasites, worms and other debilitating diseases that can spread throughout a region if left unseen to.]

     Again, my heartfelt thanks for the many thoughts, prayers and condolences throughout this ordeal. It never ceases to amaze me the love that can channel through social media in times like these. I am humbled. I am grateful. I thank you all.