I guess my love for animals started at my family's old house, our four
or five cats in Harmony, Maine. I can only remember Harriet,
Claudette, and KitKat by name, but I remember there being a few others
around. Harriet hated me, KitKat had her moments, but it was truly
Claudette that taught me to respect and care for animals like you
would another person. Claudette was the one that made sure I wasn't
afraid and didn't give up on cats in my first years of life. The older
feline looked after me like an older, very mature sister or a second
mother. She helped me discover the mysteries of the world. She treated
me with kindness and respect so much so, that I saw her as an actual
person, not a cat.
Eventually, we moved from our small house in Harmony to my
grandparents' farm in Wellington. It was my dad's turn to takeover and
continue the generations. It wasn't until the move in early 2003 that
I saw my first cow. However, first impressions aren't everything. I
remember a cow Tac by name. She was the oldest. The cattle that have
stuck with me by memory have been Chickadee and Boo-Boo, both kind,
older cows that put up with my young antics.
I was attracted to the giant barn at our new house. I was scared, yet
curious about the black and white bovines that inhabited the farm.
Some shook their heads at me and others let me pet their fuzzy heads.
However, I can never forget Chickadee. She was the first cow I
connected with who didn't mind me yelling or playing in her food.
Another habit of mine was climbing things at a young age. I pretended
the couch was a mountain, the stairs were an even bigger mountain, and
the cows were hills that moved. Chickadee was so tolerant of me that,
in my mind, there was nothing wrong with climbing onto her back.
Despite my mum's lack of enthusiasm about the idea, my dad helped me
up onto the resting cow's back. Suddenly, Chickadee stood up. The
transfer from a laying position to a standing position was terrifying,
especially for an almost three year old. Once Chickadee was up, I had
a blast. It was like riding a unicorn. From that point on in my life,
the thought of riding a unicorn or a horse was out of the question,
cows had made a true connection with me. Chickadee was one of several
cows I ended up bareback riding. Boo-Boo took over the babysitting
role when Chickadee passed, and then Jam. Jam's son, Peanut, was a
speed racer and enjoyed being ridden.
Last year was an event that hit me hard. It finalized my care for all
animals. We had just gotten home from Harmony's annual Zombie Run when
my dad met us at the car. A new baby was born and he needed me, fake
blood and all, to help herd the calf and its mother inside.
The baby turned out to be an unhealthy small size. It couldn't stand
on its own, much less walk. While my father led the mum, I picked the
calf up into my arms and carried it through several pastures. That
alone should tell you the size of the baby as my arms are fairly weak.
Looking in the records, the calf was due to be born late November,
and it was mid October. She was one month premature, and her chances
were not looking good. After conversing with my grandpa, my dad
decided that it would be in the best interest of the calf to put her
down. I would have none of that, however.
That year, 2014, we had lost many animals. I was determined to save
this baby girl and bring the death count to a halt. She might've been
small, but seeing her constantly try to stand every few seconds was
enough to tell me that she was fighting.
My dad thought I was insane, my mother and grandfather even more so,
but I had faith in the calf and she had faith in me; that was all I
needed. My father ended up naming her Pyrite, the "fool's gold." I was
the supposed fool.
I held Pyrite in a standing position whenever she drank milk and took
her on very short walks in the grass and heavily padded pens. Often
times, I would have to carry her to her stall as she would collapse
from exhaustion, but it was all worth it. As time went on, Pyrite's
legs got stronger. She would run around the barn, racing against me. I
posted videos and photos of her everyday on Facebook, and my friends
went crazy. One of my friends from New Hampshire drove up with her
boyfriend just to see the little miracle in person. I trained the calf
to jump, come, heel, and speak, just like a dog. She'd run when I told
her and where I told her.
Thanks to Pyrite, Claudette, and Chickadee, I have a strong respect
and bond with my animals. The cats, cows, or the chickens on my farm,
all of them hold a special place in my heart.
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