The Iron Oak Lady Lucinda, "Lucy," queen of my herd and my first goat, is dead. Lucy was my introduction to the caprine world, coming to me as a yearling. We learned together how to build a herd. She seemed to take comfort from my presence as we waited through her deliveries, putting her head in my lap and dozing between contractions. We had a bond. During her reign as queen, she ran a tight ship, monitoring squabbles and dispensing punishment. Lucy was fiercely protective of her subjects, and even grown men would hesitate if she became aggressive, although she never hurt anyone. She abdicated her position when the time came with grace, retaining the respect of the herd, unlike their treatment of Ruth when she tried a coup and was banished for days. Saturday was a good day for Lucy, after a series of not-so-good ones. I will miss her, but for her sake I would not have prolonged the process and am relieved it is over for my dear old girl.
After taking care of what needed to be done, the routine of feeding and milking got me through the next few hours. Regardless of what else happens here, the animals and fowl must be cared for. As it has in the past, falling into the familiar helps me find my way through the hard times. Yesterday was a beautiful day, sunny and bright, and I spent hours on the tractor, mowing all yards but the back one, grateful for the repetitive chore.
The queen is dead; long live the queen.