what animals teach us about life ... and death

Blossom’s first fall season

Why does it take so long to verbalize feelings when we lose a loved one? I think it’s so we have time to process and learn from the whole experience—even if that special being had hooves and fancied dried grass.

Blossom the Cow, one our beloved pets, crossed the Rainbow Bridge in early March. We were blessed to be able to begin hosting this little Simmental calf on our pastures more than 10 years ago … just a few days after our friend Esta learned that Blossom’s mom wasn’t able to care for her after a difficult birth, which left the little one’s legs weak. Our small fields were easier for Blossom to navigate, as we coaxed her to stand and walk.

It wasn’t much later that Blossom seemed to take a shine to another calf in the tiny herd that summered with us, LouLou. The two of them became fast friends, so we decided to make ours their forever home.

LouLou and Blossom

These two heifers were inseparable—chasing the tractor on hay refill day during the winter, skipping out onto the first spring grass, spending lazy summer afternoons under shade trees, and posing for Instagram-worthy photos framed by autumn colors. We knew Blossom’s weak legs would continue to be a challenge for her, but it was still unexpected the day she couldn’t get up. As always, Lou was watching over her, and I still believe she thinks about her best friend as she gazes out over the field where Blossom returned to the Earth.

As life goes, we’ve had several years of hard losses—my mom, dear Esta, our Pyrador Zoey, Blossom and others—and it seems like I haven’t been able to begin to wrap my head around each death. But a little butterfly gave me some insight recently.

For days I had marveled at the mass of Eastern Tiger Swallowtails that covered our mock orange bush this spring. I could lose entire afternoons out there, getting close enough to see their tongues uncurl into individual florets. I was even treated to two locked in a mating embrace in the grass nearby one day—they stayed joined together for hours!

Posy’s first week in our paddock

But it was finding yellow and black wing fragments in the greenhouse that really struck me … and made my heart sink. What happened here? Was one of the butterflies unable to find its way out of the open door, flinging itself against the windows to its end? Was there a tussle with a hungry bird? I might never know, but that sight did teach me something.

We are so fortunate to have such a close connection with nature, from the wren who serenedes us from atop its birdhouse each morning—and fluffs itself before setting on our porch every night, to the striped garter snake who keeps watch over our berry brambles (underneath them), to the bear who leaves its telltale tracks in the mud at the entrance of our tractor shed. Being so close to the more-than-human world—guests in their spaces—means we get to be part of not just the beauty of beginnings, but the emptiness of endings as well. Both are gifts.

And the circle of life spins on. A new Jersey cross calf has come into our world, and we’re introducing her to the fields Blossom grazed and her big aunt LouLou. We’re calling her Posy, to keep the sweet memory of Blossom on our pastures a little while longer.

Want to stay up on all the bovine Bregnard news? Come follow me on Instagram and Facebook, where I love sharing pictures and videos of our girls. While you’re there, feel free to scroll around to see more of Blossom—there’s far too much of her full life to share here.

Thanks to Fournier & Malloy Photographers and Jenn Gehly for their photographic contributions to this post