In the animal world, on a farm, in a writer’s life, perspective is important. The death of a sheep is not a tragedy, sheep don’t live that long and are prone to all kinds of mishaps, illnesses and poisoned brush. The death of a sheep does not affect me l like the death of a dog, a cat or a donkey, I do not love all animals equally, or even love all animals.

Tess was a sweet ewe, appealing in many ways, before her all of the animals except Frieda were brought by me, this was the first animal that was Maria’s,  her bridge from pets to animals, Tess was a symbol for us. Still, she was a sheep and to me they are elemental and often unappealing animals, focused obsessively on eating and staying together.  They are not complex, they do not have dimensions. I have to be honest, a dog has always come between me and sheep, our sheep almost never see me without a dog like Rose, Izzy or Red, so we have not had much chance to be close.

Maria and I got a ton of lovely messages today, and I appreciate it, they were very grateful and heartfelt. Like all of our animals, Tess was somewhere between a pet and an animal, and that affects how we view treatment and death. Tess is a public figure, like the rest of us on  Bedlam Farm, not only ours but ours to share. When you put photos of animals up you have to take some responsibility for the depth with which many people attach to them.

But still, the world is filled with people in all kinds of distress and trauma, and I will not demean them or their troubles by grieving too much over a sheep. Life and death are one thing, not separate things, and if you live on a farm with animals, or if you live a life with animals, you will know loss and grief. It is part of it, no longer a surprise or a shock.  On a farm with Simon, Red, Fanny and Lulu, Miinnie, Flo, Frieda, Lenore and Zelda, I have no reason to grieve, my lucky life is filled with animals to study and love.

I sometimes wonder if the camera is not something to put between me and emotion, yet I felt I was put on this earth this morning to capture the images of life, love and death, it is my purpose, my calling, my passion. Maybe the reporter in me has never died. I know the artist is just being born.

I think I have channeled some of the animal ways. Red stayed close to Tess in the hour or so before her death, and when she died, he hopped over her and went out to corral the other sheep. The donkeys, spiritual animal pastors that they are, watched Tess’s treatment carefully and then came over to Tess and sniffed her carefully and stood vigil over her for a bit. Then they went off to graze, they did not return. The other sheep paid no mind to her at all, really, even the ever vigilant Zelda didn’t seem to notice she was gone or had died.

I love animals, and I share this idea about death with them. Grieving for sheep is not a place I choose to dwell for too long. I don’t grieve much when there is so much life around me, I was sad for sure, shed some tears, hugged Maria and, like the donkeys, went about my business. The death was a communal, even spiritual experience, the donkeys and Red all wanted in. Even the usually voluble Frieda was quiet.

This, I thought once again, is what it means to be alive.

To search for love and connection, to be humane to all living things, to encourage the creative spark, to accept life and death with equal dignity and perspective. So many good people told me they were sorry about the death of Tess, yet sorrow is not what I felt for too long. I felt gratitude that she lived such a good life, gratitude that she died quickly and painlessly,  gratitude that a ram is coming to bring us some lambs, pride that Maria and I make decisions so well and closely together.  I felt a sense of wonder at the way life and death shadow one another, and the way life goes on.

After lunch, Maria was in her studio cranking out her enchanting art, I was blogging, preparing for my book launch next week,  heading out for my weekly talk and Tai Chi lesson with Scott Carrino, Minnie was sunning herself by the Dahlia Garden. Jack Macmillan was opening up a path to the water for the animals, and Red was herding four sheep. The chickens were parading across the pasture, seeking out the last bugs of 2013, and I was shocked to remember this morning that I have a new book coming out next Tuesday.

There is no reason to be sorry for me or Maria, we are drowning in our rich life together. Long live Tess, she was here, she is gone. This is what it means to be a human being.