In Missouri, occasional lightning strikes and thunderclaps are to be expected this time of year.
The area has suffered greatly as a result of recent severe weather and flooding.
Springfield farmer Jared Blackwelder and his wife Misty heard loud crashes on a Saturday morning after feeding the dairy cows, but they didn’t give it much attention.
But when Blackwelder went back to the pasture to gather the cows for the nighttime milking, he saw the terrible scene: his thirty-two dairy cows lying dead on the mulch piled on top of one another.
According to Stan Coday, president of the Wright County Missouri Farm Bureau, “he went out to bring the cows in and that’s when he found them,” CBS News reported.It occurs frequently. It does occur. The sheer quantity of animals impacted was what made this situation the worst.
The local veterinarian who performed the examination informed Coday that lightning was, in fact, the reason behind the cows’ deaths.
The cows might have sought cover under the trees in unison as the storm raged overhead.
Coday stated, “You’re at the mercy of mother nature,” and mentioned that he had lost a cow to lightning a few years prior.
Coday said that although farmers are aware of the possibility, suffering such a loss is extremely tough.
They are not like pets at all. However, I’ve raised every one of the ones I’m milking,” Blackwelder said to the Springfield News-Leader.Because you handle dairy cattle twice a day, they are a little different. It gives you a strong knock.
It’s also a financial debacle.
Blackwelder claimed to have insurance, but the News-Leader said he’s not sure if it will pay for his losses.
He estimates that the worth of each certified organic cow is between $2,000 and $2,500, resulting in a nearly $60,000.
“The majority of producers don’t have insurance,” Coday stated.“You lose everything if you lose a cow.”
In response to inquiries from nearby neighbors, Coday, a breeder of beef cows, would like to make it clear that meat from Blackwelder’s animals could not be recovered.
“Those animals are damaged, and when he found them, they had obviously been there for a few hours,” he remarked.An animal must go through a certain procedure in order to be processed. They wouldn’t have been suitable for ingestion by humans.
Because of Missouri’s gentler climate, Coday also pointed out that the majority of farmers in the state do not own a separate cow barn.
My Stepdaughter Insisted I Reassign All Her Deceased Father’s Possessions into Her Name – I Complied, Yet She Was Unpleased
The emptiness of George’s departure permeates their residence, his presence enduring in the shirt Mariana grips nightly. However, it wasn’t his passing that devastated her… it was her stepdaughter Susan’s insistence on inheriting his wealth. When she reluctantly agreed, an unexpected twist left Susan enraged and Mariana strangely content.
Progressing past the death of a dear one is always challenging. At times, I still sense my husband George’s voice echoing in my mind. I awaken holding his cherished shirt, his fragrance still clinging to the material. Yet, as I mourned him, my stepdaughter’s actions… they utterly broke me…
I am Mariana, aged 57, wed to the kindest man, George, for 25 years. He had a daughter, Susan, aged 34, from an earlier marriage.
Our bond with Susan was once good. She addressed me as “Mom” and filled the gap in my heart from not bearing my own children. I never viewed her as “another’s” child. I cherished her as my own daughter, truly.
When Susan wed her chosen partner, George and I were thrilled. But then, everything deteriorated when George received a terminal cancer diagnosis.
Susan’s visits reduced from weekly to monthly, then ceased entirely. She seldom visited her father, occasionally phoning to inquire about his health.
One day, she posed a question that tore me apart. “How long does he have left?”
Clutching the phone tightly, my voice shook. “Susan, your father isn’t an item with an expiration date.”
“I just need to know, Mom. I’m swamped, you know that… I can’t come by often,” she responded.
“Swamped?” I repeated, my tone filled with disbelief. “Too swamped to visit your dying father?”
She exhaled deeply. “Look, I’ll attempt to come soon, okay?”
But that “soon” never materialized.
Then, the dreaded day arrived. The hospital informed me that George had passed away peacefully.
I was devastated, barely able to stand as the reality sank in. My beloved George, gone.
Shockingly, Susan didn’t attend his funeral. When I called her, she promptly excused herself.
“I’m expecting, Mom,” she stated, her tone strangely indifferent. “The doctors advised against lengthy travel due to some medical concerns.”
I swallowed hard, holding back tears. “But Susan, it’s your father’s funeral. Don’t you wish to bid him farewell one last time?”
“I can’t jeopardize my baby’s health,” she curtly replied. “You understand, right?”
I didn’t, not truly, but I nodded silently, forgetting she couldn’t see me. “Of course, dear. Take care.”
As I sat near my husband’s coffin, I couldn’t dismiss the notion that our relationship had irrevocably changed.
Six months post-George’s death, I was startled by a loud knock at my door. Opening it, I saw Susan and her husband Doug, along with a severe-looking man in a suit.
Susan entered without greeting. “Mom, we need your signature on some documents.”
Baffled, I blinked. “Which documents?”
Doug handed me a stack of papers, including a blank sheet. “Just sign these. They’re for transferring all the properties into our names.”
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