Farm animals rarely get to die with much ritual or fanfare We have a sort of animal Honors Gallery on the farm, we only bury the animals with the most special meaning for us.

Simon is buried, there is a monument to Orson, Gus is buried by the Dahlia Garden, Tess, our first sheep, is buried in the pasture, and of course, we buried Red near the sheep when he died a few weeks ago.

Today, Maria and dug a grave for  Zelda, one of our smartest and most spirit ewes. People often write me telling me how fortunate – lucky is the word they use – I am to have the life, I have, but I have strong feelings about luck, I’ll write about them later tonight.

It took us – Maria mostly – two and a half hours to dig a grave for Zelda, close by the Pole Barn, where our animal vet Jack Kittel will euthanize her. Maria and I took turns using the pitchfork to soften the ground, and a shovel to dig the dirt out.

I pulled the rocks out and stacked them when she dislodged them. I have bloody fingers. And we took turns using the pitchfork and shovel for as long as my legs held out.

I started weakening after a half-hour, but Maria is unstoppable once she gets going. Another Willa Cather scene.  By 3 p.m., it was done, she showered and we started looking for a movie to go too. Feels like it’s good to get out.

I am neither sad nor sorry, really, that Zelda is doing to die. She had a good and full life and Maria and I are both happy we can spare her the discomfort of an aging sheep with bad legs in an upstate New York winter.

What is sad is watching her try to stand up.

I’m at peace with that, I’m sure there will be some tears on Wednesday afternoon. I visited her in the barn today and congratulated her on living a full and meaningful life.

The farm is a wonderful teacher of life, no one who lives on an occupied farm is a stranger to death.