Yesterday was a glorious day and the baby goats spent it outdoors playing on the climbing objects and dancing.
This was good, because as fate would have it, it was Esme’s last day.
At 3pm today I went to milk Iggy Pop and check on the goats. Esme was lying in her creep, bleating. I got her out and she stood on three legs with the other leg dangling in a way that wasn’t right.
We took her to the vet to be sure. They confirmed it was broken. Even if it could be fixed it would be very expensive and would mean crate rest for Esme for months. We have to be realistic about our smallholding animals and we also have to be kind.
We asked the vet to kill her. Well, actually we asked the vet how much it would be first – we know how much the knackerman charges. Luckily the vet looked kindly on us and didn’t charge too much, so Esme died with us holding her.
Here’s Eleven dancing like there is no tomorrow – which to be fair, is probably how we should all dance as you never really know.
N.B. When Elsie (eventually) realised she could only find two of her kids she was distraught and stood in the snow bleating and looking for Esme. So we took Esme over to her and showed her to Elsie whose distraught bleating changed to a howl of acknowledgement. We then led her back to her pen with her other two babies. Animals do need to know ……