08/05/2025
Owning livestock is beautiful, but it’s also brutal.
People show the good parts. The chicks hatching. The newborns learning to stand. That first wobble. That first feed. And yes, it’s magical. It’s what keeps you going.
But what they don’t show is the grief.
The way you walk into the barn and something’s wrong.
The panic. The helplessness. The silence that follows.
We don’t just own animals, we love them.
Even when we have dozens, we know each one. Their quirks. Their sounds. Their routines.
We bottle feed them. We cheer for their first steps. We hope for them.
And when we lose one, it wrecks us.
No, it doesn’t get easier.
Not when you loved them like that.
You still cry in the stall.
You still carry the guilt.
You still bury them with your own two hands and whisper “I’m sorry” even if you did everything you could.
This life is raw.
It’s real.
It’s soul work.
And it hurts, because love always does.
