One of our goats got meningitis, probably listeria, which is endemic in the midwest. We started treatment yesterday with dual antibiotics, but it is seldom successful, and today my wife was able to check on her during the day and said she was having seizures and in distress, so I left the office early to come home and euthanize her.
Anyway I got home, so all the goat was in agony and pain and distress and that my wife had already pretty much confirmed the diagnosis.
When you have life stock you get a 'routine', so I immediately started up the tractor and dug the appropriate hole back at the sandpit. By the time I got to the house, my wife had already prepared prophylactic antibiotic injections for the other animals including the dogs, and earlier in the day I had phoned in oral prescription stuff for ourselves for prophylaxis.
After donning washable garb appropriate for the occasion, I grabbed my Marlin 1894 carbine (44 Mag) and loaded the distressed, and now-seizing goat into the front end loader so I could take her away from the area the other animals frequent (less body fluids from the euthanasia to infect the others). Once nestled in the front in loader she actually calmed down, so I drove her back to the gravesite uneventfully.
She would twitch once in a while so I tried to encourage her by telling her she "was fighting with a wolf to protect her baby, and that she was winning". Of course I doubt she understood my English, but I figured perhaps in some cosmic way that would put the events in a context that would be encouraging. What mother wouldn't mind infinite distress and pain if she knew she were successfully defending her baby...?
Anyway, once there, a 180 gr 44 Special from the carbine seemed to provide a humane and quick end to her torment.
As I returned to the house in the tractor, I couldn't help but think I wish my own demise would be that simple, free of drama, and environmentally sensible. I'd much rather my hard-earned mass of complex biochemicals should be used to nourish a tree or a grapevine or even some poison ivy, than get embalmed with formaldehyde in some concrete vault.
The whole life-ending process probably took about 60 minutes.
At the other end of the spectrum, most farmers are prepared to go from sound asleep to defending livestock in about 60 seconds. The goal is that if you hear your animals scream, you should be outside with enough clothing to function and some sort of night-capable all-weather firearm with appropriate ballistics and capacity to deal with the local predators. That should happen regardless of the weather, how tired you are, or any other factors, so you keep a set of coveralls hanging up in the warm furnace room to step into to save time.
Farmers are practical gun-users by that definition...
"60 seconds outside and ready to PROTECT life..."
Where we live, two of the best options are a 357 magnum lever action or a 300 blackout A.R. 15, either one with a decent light and red dot optics, and preferably suppressed with subsonic loads. I used the 44 tonight just because with meningitis I preferred a thoracic shot versus brains-all-over head shot, and thus wanted a bigger thoracic hole for faster hypotension and unconsciousness, even though the seizures likely made it moot.
My wife keeps promising that she will see to it that I am buried here on the property like that, but whenever we talk about it she gets this strange and eager gleam in her eye and mumbles some thing about "...you didn't make me promise that you'd be dead before I buried you..."
Sometimes I worry...
![Shocked :shock:](./images/smilies/icon_eek.gif)