Dahlia passed away last night. She came to the farm in 2005 (pregnant, which the previous owner and we didn’t know). So she was at least 22 or 23 years old. She’s been with me through this farm journey for so many years. She is the only one of my cows that I ever milked (her calf was not drinking enough so I had to milk her out). None of my other cows were ever personable enough. Dahlia was also the only cow that would let me pet her. All the others would back away if I got too close. Her bull calf was the last one I kept since I wanted to bring her gentleness to the herd, so the other cows that remain are her grand children.
She had been slowly declining the past couple years, but in March she started going downhill fast. In my conversations with her these past two months, she shared with me her wish to die on the soil, connected to the land that she belonged to. I hoped she would make it to when the snow melted. She couldn’t move fast, but as soon as I opened the gate a few days ago, she got up and immediately went out into the paddock. It’s been raining so much so there is a lot of mud, but she chose a high spot with the newly sprouted stinging nettle and laid down and did not get back up. I wanted to let her die on her own terms.
She truly embodied the deep philosophy of the cow, giving more than she took. She was a role model I can try to follow.
Thank you Dahlia.