Life happens

For those of you who are faint of heart - and really, even if you aren't - please, stop reading now. Just ignore this post. It's going to get pretty ugly. One of the biggest perks of having a blog is being able to write anything you want, and no one has to read it if they don't want to. I'm only writing this for me - it's selfish, yes, but that's the way it goes.

Four weeks ago today, twenty-two of our goats died after a horrific car accident. It was my fault - they were out grazing an alfalfa field, behind a portable electric fence, and they were due to get moved to new feed that night, but after a crazy day I figured they would be okay until the morning. They got hungry and knocked the fence down on the east side, where I had set the fence in the high ground next to the ditch - I thought setting it higher would be a good thing, but the dirt was so soft the whole fence went right down. They were probably out for most of the night, given that they traveled nearly six miles before getting to the busy road where they were hit. A single pickup truck came around the corner and hit nearly half of the goats in the group - the person driving, thank God, was okay. This all happened around 4:30 in the morning, and my dear parents dealt with everything at the scene before waking me up.

Evie, Havana, Zi Zhi, Carly, Panda, Affair, Reina, Etienne, Manora, Nini, Whitey, Sabrina, Kronk, Quiz, Ursa, Sidney, Stuffing, and Dumpling were killed by the impact. Three more had to be put down - Atlanta for a shattered pelvis and severe internal injuries, Corsica for broken ribs and a punctured chest cavity, and Ziva for severe, non-reparable damage to her left rear leg - and Annabelle died later that day from probable head trauma. I usually can't watch when one of my goats has to be put down, but for the first time ever, I was there when my goats died - I held each one as they were put down and kissed them goodbye. I had to - I owed them that much, and I wanted them to know I cared. Having walked the group from field to field several times, I noticed that most of the goats who were injured or killed were the ones who usually walk in the back of the pack - the ones that like to run in front were, for the most part, unharmed. Almost all of the remaining goats were uninjured - a few had scrapes and bruises or were generally sore, Tahoe had a broken jaw, and Patricia had some rib damage with severe edema and lacerated legs. Our wonderful vet was very sympathetic and kind throughout the whole ordeal and we were able to get the goats triaged and euthanized or bandaged up fairly quickly. My father, bless his heart, worked his butt off for days taking care of the bodies - they're all buried together out by the old plum tree on the east side of our field. I am hoping to plant trees or flowers there in the spring.

So why am I writing all this? Mostly, to get it all out. I don't ever want to forget them. I wanted to get all their names down in one place. I also wanted to remind myself of this: my first reaction, after going out to the remaining goats and seeing who was left, was that it could have been so much worse. Was I devastated? Yes. I miss them terribly. I regret that I won't ever get another kid from Zi Zhi or any of the others. I will always feel guilty for what happened, and I still have nightmares. But when I think of what could have happened that didn't, and how much worse it could have been, and how many more could have died, all I can do is thank God for His mercy. Mom and Jesse lost one goat apiece, which was terrible, but I'm so relieved that they didn't lose more and that all of their babies were unharmed. Almost all of the dairy goats that died, although very dear to me, were goats that were problem breeders, or old and retired, or just pets - goats that were costing money to feed with no return, although I didn't regret it in the least. I would rather have them back (in a heartbeat) and there was a reason I still had each and every one of them, but from a purely objective point of view, they were the less valuable animals in the group. I had too many goats, and although I probably would have chosen differently if forced to, the decision was made for me, and in a way it was a relief. It also helped immensely that almost every goat that died has a sister, daughter, or mother who is still here - from a breeder's point of view, I lost comparatively little. I'm so grateful to have the ones that are still here - most of the goats I feel very strongly attached to were still in the barn at home, almost all of the kids survived, and although it was an awful experience, in a way it strengthened my resolve to stick with goats. I'm spending more time with the girls, and the kids who lost their mothers (Gali, Abbey and Cory) have become good buddies. It was hard to watch Tahoe in pain and unable to eat or even scratch herself, but since the initial pain wore off she's enjoying her private sick-bay and daily smorgasbord of soft foods immensely, and loves getting her blanket at night. Patricia may never be fully normal - she still has a large mass of tissue on her lower left ribcage - but she's loving life and back to being as irrepressible as she ever was.

I also write this because I don't want anyone's charity, and I don't know how to tell them that without sounding ungrateful. I don't say these things because I want sympathy, I say them because every single one of those animals deserves to be remembered and I want to make sure nothing like this ever happens again. I'm the only one to blame for what happened. I'm not punishing myself for it, it's just a fact. I don't want anyone to feel like they have to walk on eggshells around me - if you want to know more about it, ask. I want to talk about it, it helps me cope. I don't want more goats to replace the ones that died, because a) to me they're not replaceable, and b) I'd rather do better by the goats I still have. I am so, so incredibly grateful for my parents and all of the friends and family who have been so thoughtful and kind and supportive through this whole ordeal - just to know that you're thought of, by so many people, is an incredibly comforting and humbling experience.

So there you have it. My first (and last, if I have anything to say about it) depressing and completely self-serving blog post. If you've read all the way to here, I apologize. I promise to get back to a more happy topic soon - I have lots of bummer lambs, and almost all of the goats are bred for spring kids, and it's almost Christmas!

Vale, my friends.

Domesticated? Me?

Lately I've been on a domestic kick.

We're not talking aprons-and-cookie-dough domestic. That would be far too simple and pretty and thoroughly Country Living. We're talking pumice-the-toilets, clean-the-grout-with-a-toothbrush, invest-in-stock-for-Bounty-paper-towels, invent-new-recipes domestic. I made a flourless chocolate cake and started a new sourdough culture. From scratch.

I think perhaps the funk I've been in for the last 3 weeks (and the insomnia, and the obsessive-compulsive Solitaire playing) has been due to me feeling like I'm turning into the crazy goat woman. Don't get me wrong, I still love them. But apparently I was feeling a desperate need for some "normality" that didn't involve a barn. The main reason why I still support this theory is that after a few days of madly cleaning, baking, and organizing, I find myself with a work ethic. Oh hello! I've missed you!

It's either that, or the combination of Windex fumes and buck smell have gone to my head. (It's breeding season again. Huzzah.) Only 1/3 of the girls are bred - I hope, we just sent the first group of blood samples off today - so I look forward to the next 3 weeks with grim determination. Here's hoping that my theory is true, and that a little balance will keep me on the wagon!

A very welcome sight indeed...

Good heavens, it's been ages since my last blog post. Lots of things have happened since the last one - the conclusion of kidding, a new job, moving the goats to the foggy coast, going to the National Show by way of Indiana (which was AWESOME, more on that later), reducing the herd, moving the goats back home again, babysitting kittens and puppies and goats (oh my!), show season (which isn't quite finished, so more on that later as well) and the beginning of breeding season.

I only tell you all that because whenever I think of updating the blog, I don't even know where to begin. BUT. Last night I saw such a welcome sight, I figured I'd finally found a place to start. Ears is eating again!

I'm sure you were all dying to see a goat chewing with her mouth open.

For the record, one of my beautiful and sweet two-year-olds, Aurora - better known as Ears - has not been doing very well. She came down with a enterotoxemia-type stomach bug that basically made her very lethargic and dehydrated and took away almost all of her appetite. After getting lots of feel-good drugs and antibiotics and fluids to counter the bug and the dehydration, she was getting fed (literally) six different types of food plus supplements in the hopes that what little desire she had to taste new things would keep her alive, but despite our efforts she lost a LOT of weight. (Notice that I don't have photos of the rest of her - I'm pretty sure that if I did, I would open the door tomorrow to a person in a PETA t-shirt with a 100 % recycled-synthetic-material rope to hogtie me and a nice hot "animal abuser" cattle brand.)

Well, yesterday morning AND last night AND this morning, she had a real appetite! It was so lovely to see her actually begging for food after almost a month of morose taste-and-pout behavior. My fingers and toes and ankles and eyes and everything else I can think of are crossed, but I'm thinking/hoping/praying that she's over the worst of it.

Obviously Cristal's food - exactly the same as hers - is much better.

Here's to happy, hungry goats!

Animal Photography

Now that school is over, I've been trying to catch up on all the barn work that got put on the back burner. Taking photos of kids is probably at the bottom of the list, priority-wise, but at the top of the list of things I actually WANT to do, which is why last night included a late-night photo shoot of some of the older babies. However, trying to take photographs of bouncy, bratty, squirmy kids is not unlike herding cats - never mind that some of them have been in multiple show rings, they conveniently forget everything they ever learned about standing still and looking pretty. I managed to get a few good photos thanks to my intrepid photographer - my sister Rachel - who braved allergens, hair-chewing and flying baby goat bodies to take them for me. (I made the mistake of letting all the photo candidates out at once, and they thought it was great fun to fling themselves across the barn, at the camera-holder or - for super-extra-special fun - at the goat currently being bodily forced to stand still for a photo.) Normally I would take photos just outside the barn, on clean concrete with the dark-green tin of the barn as a background - which usually results in very nice, sharp pictures. However, tonight we used the wall inside the barn as a background - even though the floor was dirty, it was the least distracting area we could find. (My usual "photo area" is currently home to a lumber pile, and it was dark out so we needed a place inside the barn.)

Actually snapping a photo while the goat is set up, standing still and standing in such a way that they actually look good (for instance, NOT leaning backward, which does wretched things to the appearance of their topline and shoulders) is waaaay harder than it sounds. It's best to take a photo at the goat's level so as not to make their legs look short, which meant Rachel was sitting on the ground and being regularly accosted by baby hooves and noses and hair-snatching mouths. Finding a good backdrop without too much "busy stuff" in the background and of an appropriate color to set off the goat is also difficult, and it's not very attractive to have loose goats (or worse, half of a loose goat) in the background of your photo. Sometimes I can get a photo that I like right away, but the usual case is to take a few dozen photos and settle for the best one with a sigh, after sorting through all the photos and discarding most of them for various reasons. Below are a few examples of Regalia's photo shoot to give you a better idea of the process...enjoy!

Take 1: Kauai decides to stick her nose in...literally.

Take 2: Gali doesn't look too bad, but Lisbon's decided to join the fun.

Take 3: Lisbon getting the boot.

Take 4: Gali channels her bratty side.

Take 5: The "I DON WANNA" pose.

Take 6: ...Actually not too bad. It'd be nice if her face was visible though. (She's getting the "LET'S FOCUS, PUNK" talk for the fourteenth time.)

Take 7: She moved her foot.

Take 8: The "I REALLY DON WANNA" pose.

And, of course, the photo in which she is looking her absolute best is a) one of the first ones we took, and b) a blurry one. Oh well, it's late and I'll take what I can get!

I'm Alive

Sorry peeps, just wanted to let you know that I'm still alive and kicking. It's no coincidence that my last post was the day before Spring Quarter started...but I'm taking my last final next Wednesday and graduating on Saturday! So. Prepare yourselves. I will be back to writing soon! <3

Introducing: Cristal

It occurred to me the other day that when I don't have anything witty to say, I can always talk about my goats. (ALWAYS.) So I thought, why not start introducing everyone! A little background information, if you will. I don't know how far it'll go, but it's only logical to start with the goat that started it all: Cristal!

Cristal - "Got anything good?"

I know it's not the greatest photo ever, but for all that she's been here longer than any other goat we have, I have almost no pictures of her. When I was seven, I announced that I was going to get a white goat and name it Cristal - and she's still here! You can tell she's old just by looking at her, and she's a crotchety thing, but there you go. She was never a super lovey-dovey goat, and is still more interested in babies and food (in that order) than in people, but despite her standoffish, no-touchie personality, she's a sucker for a backscratch. She loves having kids (since her "retirement" in 2005 she's gotten herself bred twice) and currently lives under the same roof as her daughter, four granddaughters, five great-grandchildren, and three great-great-grandchildren. (And there are four more sets of kids due from her family alone!) Cristal is the matriarch of my grade line - her daughter Tahoe is my special baby, and her granddaughter Kitten is the highest appraising goat in my barn. Her progeny (through Tahoe) have the best-tasting milk and are unusually smart, laid-back, and easy to milk at the same time.  She's a very "been there, done that" kind of goat, and will most definitely be here until the day she dies.

Home Sweet Home

When most people think of Spring Break, they think of things like vacations, sleeping, going out and having fun, movies, family and friends. I think of all those things too, but for me breaks and weekends often mean more work than school days. I tend to think "Great, no school, I can finally do ____" and pack everything I need to do into as short of a time as possible.

So, this week I finally made it down to visit Summerhill Dairy in Hanford, CA. Summerhill is a fantastic place with a lot of really cool people, well-cared for goats and one of the most fascinating milking parlors I've ever seen. They are certified humane and spend a ton of time making sure their goats are well-fed, healthy, comfortable and generally well-cared for. I spent a day and a half touring the facility, seeing the goats, and helping with milking, preg checks, sorting dry does, giving shots, etc - generally getting a feel for the place. Each of their goats has a number and an RFID tag, which is read as they come in to be milked so that their milk production is recorded and sent straight to the computer. Goats don't get names (except for a few special ones, like 12-year-old 2-gallon-a-day-milker Jazz) and although they receive the highest level of care, they generally prefer to avoid people. Which is completely fine - they don't have to be friendly, and in truth they're easier to bring in and milk that way because they'll actually move away from you instead of trying to climb into your pocket.

HOWEVER.

After spending two days working with goats who could care less if I existed, wanted to be left alone, and often had to be cornered to be caught or moved, it was so incredibly refreshing to come home and be greeted by forty-odd furry faces who couldn't wait to see me:

Okay, they also wanted food, but they all came running when they heard me.
L to R: Carly (hiding next to the post), Patricia, Talia, Caidy, Ears, Atlanta and Llady.

Just spending time with the girls, seeing them respond to their names, and scratching heads and backs was really cathartic. It was especially cute to watch a few of them (notably, Tina, Lyra and Zephyr) come charging over to plaster themselves against my legs and try to chew on my belt loops. I get way too attached to my goats; but how could I not? Sometimes I find them irritating, but I get over it. Tisane often gets my attention - when it's not 100% on her - by sneaking up behind me and jumping on my back, then ducking the hand that swings back at her to get her off and sticking her head between my legs. (Can you tell she's done it a few times?) Even at my grumpiest I can't stay mad at that irrepressible little face.

So...from a purely economic point of view, it makes more sense not to name or tame the animals you're working with any more than necessary. But then, from a purely economic point of view, it makes no sense to have a herd of show goats in the first place. Coming home to these guys just reminds me that all the work really is worth it.

Baby LaManchas!

Most of my goats are Saanens, but I long ago fell in love with LaManchas and finally got two of them a few years ago. However, for various reasons, I've never actually gotten purebred LaMancha kids. Last fall I had the opportunity to breed does to a really lovely LaMancha buck, Elm*Glen Brazil - and having seen several of his (fabulous) daughters in person, I couldn't pass up the opportunity. Violet made the trip to Manteca in October - and miraculously developed a sudden hatred for males in general. She was such a witch that day that we weren't sure if she would actually settle, but crossed our fingers and hoped for the best. I was pretty convinced that she would be open, or that she would have something to the tune of triplet bucks, just to spite me. That's just how she is. I was in for a pleasant surprise...

Introducing: Corsica and Valencia!

BABIES! They're still wet in this photo - better ones are below. Corsica is on the left, Valencia on the right.

 That's right, twin does. Apparently Violet thinks that proving me wrong is more important than spiting me. Or something. Whatever the reason, I'm not complaining. When they were born I was a little let down that they were both black, but once dry their color lightened up a bit. Valencia has a white belly and a funny two-tone off-black color; Corsica, to my delight, has turned a lovely silvery brown! The first Lamancha I fell in love with was a chocolate-colored doe, so it's basically been my goal in life to have a light brown LaMancha. I won't breed for color - at least I tell myself I won't - but it's definitely a perk.
These two also have personalities the size of Texas - Corsica is the intrepid explorer, while Valencia is more of a mama's girl. Both of them have tons of 'tude while in the pen, and simply walking in with them elicits a rather impressive display of jumping around, shaking their heads, marching up to you and snorting before they start trying to nibble on the nearest piece of your clothing. And yet, they are so sweet and snuggly when you pick them up. I am quite enchanted.

I'm also finding it extremely difficult to get photos of them because they're so darn wiggly. Below are what I've managed to glean out of 50+ attempts...enjoy!

Valencia's totally in the way, but you can sort of see how lovely Corsica looks when she's standing still. And I LOVE her color!

Corsica!
I'll eventually figure out how to rotate photos, but for now if you cock your head to the left you'll notice how adorable she is.

Valencia has just a wee bit of an attitude.

Again, I'll eventually get this righted...
"Oh look, a SHINY OBJECT!"

Valencia! "Whatcha doin, mom?"
I don't have as many photos of her...who me? Play favorites? Lies. All lies.

Nothing beats having a sister to snuggle up with.

Field Day

Things have been crazy busy lately thanks to the UC Davis Agricultural and Environmental Sciences Field Day, which was held this past Saturday. Field Day is where FFA'ers (and 4-H'ers, although they're pretty rare) come to compete in one of 26 different contests, including things like Parliamentary Procedure, Ag Mechanics, Vegetable Crops, Floriculture, Public Speaking, and judging animals - including poultry, livestock, horse, and dairy cattle. Each contest has its own coordinator(s), tests, competitors and judges, and the degree of difficulty and time require for preparation varies as well. I was one of the co-coordinators for the dairy cattle contest, which is probably one of the most intensive contests there is. Not to toot our own horn or anything.

Here's the way animal judging competitions generally work: there are several classes, and each class has four animals in it, generally numbered 1-2-3-4. Contestants evaluate the animals and place them from best to worst - for example, if sheep #2 was the best, then sheep #4 was second best, and sheep #1 was the worst, the placing would be 2-4-3-1. The contestants' placing is then compared to placings which have been made by the official ("expert") judges, and contestants are then scored based on how close they are to the official placing. There's a customary method for scoring, too, but I won't go in to that. As if that weren't stressful enough, after placing each class, contestants will have to give oral reasons on one or more classes - go into a separate room with the official judge(s) and, from memory, recite the reasons why they put those animals in that order.

In most cases, the other side of the contest is fairly straightforward. Whoever is putting together the contest chooses a class of animals, maybe gives them a bath and/or a haircut a few days before Field Day, and puts them in a pen for all the FFA'ers to judge. Simple, right? Straightforward. Easy. To the point. I had to choose dairy cattle. *sigh*

Dairy cattle are all shown during the contest - not put in a pen, but actually paraded around on a halter and posed so that contestants can see them all at the same time. This means that we start putting classes together in January, then halterbreak all the animals that haven't been shown before (usually about half of them). Dairy cattle are also clipped for judging - and a holstein cow has a LOT of hair. Clipping works best if the animal is clean, and cows love to get dirty, so each cow gets probably three or four baths in the two weeks leading up to field day. We have five classes on Field Day - that's 20 animals that all have to be halterbroken, calm enough to show with a bunch of people staring at them, washed, body clipped and cared for. In addition, classes are run two at a time, which means that we have to have at least 8 people trained and available to show them during the contest while everyone else is herding FFA'ers, keeping cows clean, getting the next classes ready, taking care of the 3 official judges, and generally putting out fires.

The last few days before Field Day are especially hectic. During the last week, we take ALL the cows and heifers out to the show area to get them used to it, and finish clipping. We also go over our entries and put together the judging cards the contestants will use to mark their placings - someone else prints them for us, but we still have to tear apart the three-card sheets and bundle them into a neat little packet for each contestant. The day before, we put up the show ring, make posters for each ring and each reasons room, rearrange heifers, put straw in the barn where the cows will stay while they're not being shown, organize the show halters, and do whatever else hasn't been finished. Then on contest day - remember how they love to get dirty? - we're up at 3:30 AM to wash all 20 cows, get them tied in the clean barn with feed and water, and get ready for the contest to start at 8. Then we're off and running with cows being kept clean, shown and returned to the barn, FFA'ers and officials judging, lunch (which was delivered an hour and a half late), and running reasons. We had 86 contestants this year (!) and each of them had to give three sets of reasons - even running all three simultaneously, it still took about 3 hours to do Reasons. Once reasons are done, we bring the cows and heifers back out for the "critique," which is when the officials to tell the contestants the placings (and why they placed the class that way). After critique, the contestants scatter, we get the cows taken care of and put away and take everything down again, clean out the barn, and turn into vegetables.

This year's contest went extremely well, thanks to all the volunteer help we had and some herculean work from my co-coordinator Gretchen. The judges were great, none of the contestants cried/complained/got run over, the cows (mostly) behaved, we had Halley scanning all the judging cards and keeping up with tabulations so we could get done quickly, and in general everything just worked (with the notable exception of lunch, but what can you do). Here's hoping next year goes as well!

PS. Sorry this is so long! I could have written three times this much and not covered all of the details...but you get the picture.

In Good Company

Kidding season is in full swing! With the school quarter beginning to come to a close, UC Davis Field Day coming up next Saturday (more on that later), and 7 does due in the next 7 days, I decided several weeks ago to induce does to kid this weekend so that I could focus on other things in the coming week. One doe kidded early, and three of the does are still less than 146 days along (a normal goat pregnancy lasts ~150 days, and successfully inducing does to have *live* kids works best if they're at least 144 days pregnant - I prefer to wait a few days more so that the kids don't arrive too underbaked). That left three does to kid today - Fantasia, Trooper and Meadowlark.

Inducing usually results in kids being born between 11 AM and 3 PM, although there are the occasional exceptions. I wasn't sure whether Fantasia would wait, as she's always been a rather secretive kidder, and sure enough, she presented me with a lovely pair of clean, dry kids at 8:30 this morning:

Fantasia's twins - the doe, Johanna, is the one with her head up.

While I was glad that she had kidded quickly and with no problems, I was a little concerned because I had invited a few friends from school to come watch, and I was worried that the kids would all be born before anyone was able to get here! Thankfully, however, the other two does took their sweet time, and after everyone arrived and settled in to wait, there were plenty of snacks to eat and older babies to cuddle.

Haley and Katie make some new friends!

Both does were looking equally uncomfortable, but Lark was the first to throw in the towel (with much talking and attempted licking from Trooper, next door). She had a pretty white doe kid and a Sable buck kid with a really impressive grey "skunk stripe" and wattles.

Merganser, Lark's doe kid

Lark's buck kid. Sorry for the bad lighting, but check out that color!

Not to be outdone, Trooper decided to kid shortly after. She was bred to Rigsby, so I was expecting elf eared 1/2 LaMancha kids, but with the other half Saanen I was resigned to white kids (or light brown at best). Imagine my surprise when this little beauty showed up!

Lisbon, Trooper's doe kid - so pretty!

One of the reasons I've always had Saanens is so that I wouldn't make breeding and selection decisions based on color. Given how smitten I am with miss Lisbon, it's a good thing I didn't start breeding LaManchas sooner, or I'd have twice as many goats as I do now!

When half an hour had gone by without so much as a peep from Trooper, I started to get concerned. I knew there was at least one more kid in there, so I put an OB glove on and went in to investigate. (The second of such gloves - I popped the first one, trying to turn it inside out so as not to expose her to the dirty outside of the glove.) I'm glad I checked when I did - the second kid had his head firmly tucked back against his rib cage, and he was NOT turning it around, thank-you-very-much. 15 minutes and one bruised arm later, I managed to get him straightened out and delivered - thankfully, still alive.

Trooper's two kids. I'm not sure what Lisbon is trying to do.

With all of the kids on the ground, it was time to get the does some warm electrolyte water and kick back for the rest of the afternoon. I did, however, check on everyone a few hours later, to be greeted by Lisbon from her eyeball-deep nest of straw....

IT'S SO FLUFFY!!

I do believe she's going to be a bit spoiled.

Kidding Season Ups and Downs

(Alternatively, Saanens versus LaManchas.)

Kidding season usually has highs and lows. Kind of a 'you win some, you lose some' deal. Last year was particularly bad, with all but three of the 22 kids from the two-year-old does dying from Floppy Kid Syndrome. Floppy kid is a metabolic disease associated with a secondary bacterial infection - in last year's case, Cryptosporidium. However, last year was also one of the best for kid growth and I have some beautiful yearlings in the barn right now.

10 does have kidded so far this year, and it's been quite the roller coaster ride. Two of them were unplanned - the result of does getting bred by a very young buckling who hadn't yet been moved to the buck pen. Here's the breakdown:
Lily (LM cross) - buck/doe twins (doe was stillborn)
Kolea (Saanen) - twin does
Sitka (LM cross, not intentionally bred) - one slightly retarded buck kid
Reina (LM cross) - buck/doe twins (buck was stillborn)
Panda (Saanen cross) - twin does
Cristal (Saanen cross, not intentionally bred) - twin bucks, both with parrotmouths
Emma (LM cross) - buck/doe twins (doe stillborn, and she laid on the buck kid and killed it)
Stella (LM) - twin bucks
Kitten (Saanen) - buck/doe twins
Dreamer (Saanen) - giant single buck

Is anyone else noticing a trend here?

Cristal can be forgiven for the parrotmouths - she IS a very old doe, and older mamas tend to have kids with congenital issues. If that is the only thing wrong with these two boys I'll be happy, especially since her last kid was a cryptorchid with extra teats and a furry eye. However, the fact that only half of the kids from the LaMancha does have survived makes me wonder if I'm really meant to have LaManchas. Then again, Kitten was bred to a LaMancha buck, so her kids are LaMancha crosses, and they are two of the biggest, coolest, most curious little buggers I've ever seen. Go figure.

Learning curve

Dear God:
I just wanted to say thanks for the education I've been getting. I never knew just how little sleep I could get and still be a coherent being. Please help me remember to be careful what I wish for...while it was fascinating to see, it didn't occur to me that a gastroschisis kid would cause so many problems. If it's not too much to ask, though, I would be very grateful if the next doe who kids could be excluded from this learning experience - you see, I've almost forgotten what a normal kidding is like. Amen.

And so it begins

Once again, it's been way too long since my last post. However, I've realized that a large factor contributing to my lack of postage is a conviction that every post requires photos. Obviously, they don't. SO.

Since December, we've had a few more bottle babies show up, a fantastic Christmas, and a lot of pregnant bellies! A few, such as Trooper, are wider than they are tall (and Trooper isn't due until March). It's always fascinating to me to watch them grow and see who starts to "show" at what time, and then later to see how many kids were really in there. Emma, for example, is due in less than two weeks and has only just started to develop a suggestion of roundness around her middle, while Kolea (who is due in 5 days) can barely fit through the gate anymore. Fantasia has a big sound frame and tends to carry kids inconspicuously until a few days before her due date, and Violet is the same shape no matter what stage of gestation (or lactation) she's in - I think she does it on purpose, she's just that perverse. Then there are goats like Atlanta, who dropped her belly and started waddling instead of walking a mere two weeks after she got bred.

In the past few years, we've struggled with kids getting sick at a very young age - last year nearly all of the kids from the two-year-old does died from Floppy Kid Syndrome, due to complications with Cryptosporidium, and a few years ago we had some bad cases of E. Coli. scours. So, this year I went overboard with kid prep - we bought new panels and hardware, cleaned a section of the barn, drenched it in bleach, limed the floor - you name it, we did it. We're hoping that having the kids born in the clean pens will keep the new babies healthy and happy while their immune systems are getting their acts together.

The first pens were finished just in time, too - Lily suddenly (and rather impressively) filled her udder yesterday, so I knew she was close to kidding. Even though her due date wasn't until the 9th, she kidded this morning with a gorgeous set of twins! Unfortunately the doe kid was stillborn, but the buckling is adorable and doing quite well. Lily did the exact same thing last year (kidding early with a live buck and a dead doe) so I was a little disappointed, but these things happen. At least she and the remaining kid are doing well.

The next few kiddings are going to be interesting - Panda, a three-year-old who nearly died last year from gangrenous mastitis and lost her udder as a result, is due on the 9th and she is HUGE. It will be a challenge to predict her kidding without an udder; while it's by no means the only indicator of impending birth, "bagging up" (the udder filling with milk) is the most obvious sign of kidding and I tend to rely on it pretty heavily. Kolea, as mentioned previously, is also quite wide, and will actually be getting shots tonight to induce her into labor a few days early. Inducing labor has its pros and cons: it requires that the does kid a few days before their due dates, which can result in slightly underbaked kids, but one of the shots (Dexamethasone) is a corticoid and helps the babies' lungs finish developing before they're born, and being able to schedule kiddings so that I can be present in case of complications greatly reduces my stress load. Often it reduces the doe's stress level as well - I hand-raised the majority of my goats, and most of them get very anxious if I leave them while they're kidding. (Some do everything in their power to kid while I'm NOT there, but that's beside the point.) Kolea is a first-time mother; she's inexperienced, she's VERY wide which makes me think she's expecting multiple kids, and she's bred to a buck who tends to produce very large babies. Very big kids can cause problems, even if they don't get tangled up and the doe isn't a first-timer, so I'm hoping that kidding a couple of days early will keep her from growing her kids overly large. So, just to make sure she doesn't have problems with babies getting tangled up or stuck on their way out, and to ensure that the babies get cared for, dried off and fed once they arrive, I want to be there when she kids. Ergo, she gets induced.

With kidding also comes milking, however, and since Lily could easily feed three kids and only has one, I'm off to take up the slack...