Huck and Tom gone to Trail

A farewell hug for Huckleberry

It has been my intention for years to take our two Oberhasli wethers, Huckleberry and Yora-Cute-Tomato, a.k.a Huck and Tom, goat-packing out on some serious trail.  Big enough to carry a reasonable load now, at almost 4 years and an estimated 180 pounds each, the two brothers have left our small herd to live at Trail, Oregon.  We all miss Captain Buckethead and the Tomster less than a day after their departure, and wish them happy trails in Trail!

Umbilicus tennisballum

Anemone, the fawn and black obie-alpine doeling, shows a swelling in the belly button about two months after her birth. It goes from being the size of a large marble when first discovered to the size of half a tennis ball in the next 24 hours. Wow! Scary!

Our first thought, after we calm our fears and do a phone call with the vet, is that it is a small hernia. One idea we have about its cause: she has herniated, perhaps, because of how unskillful she is at avoiding the bigger goats, who sometimes ram her when she stands next to a building, effectively rending a heart-wrenching screech from her, sound not being the only thing to escape under the pressure. Following up on these interrelated ideas, we separate her with her sister and mother, and spend some time and money trying to construct a truss that a goat may not shed in 15 minutes.

Aside from this bump on her belly, Anemone seems fine. She continues to be interested in eating whenever her mother and sister eat, she frolics and plays with her sister, she is alert and friendly. Furthermore, it So, I haven't seen a need to dropped everything to get a vet to look at it.

Then, about a week later, it starts to emit pus. White pus, smelling of extremely strong cud breath, what the vet has called "ruminant pus", an aroma that is highly attractive--to flies. Lucky for Anemone the pus does not ooze, but squirts only when bumped or squeezed by curious farmers, so the flies aren't all over her. The presence of pus changes the situation significantly. Definitely an infection, though probably not one of the scary ones--pus from a CL abcess is typically odorless--it means I am no longer comfortable letting this try to resolve itself.

We finally get her to the veterinary clinic today. The results are only a little surprising. Vet confirms it is not a hernia, that it is an infection. After looking at the shaved, cleaned abscess, doctor opines that the inflammation likely resulted from an umbilicus which has been infected from the week of her birth and which has only finally flared up in the last two weeks. [Note to self: Need to revisit our kidding procedures. Since the war on methamphetamine labs has made iodine solution impossible to come by, our substitution of betadine wash probably did not do the job. Anna the vet's assistant suggests chlorhexadine solution might be a better substitute, though not certain I communicated the use clearly.]

Final bill: Just under $150.

Qty	Description	Cost
1	Veterinary Exam, lg animal	49.50
1	Abcsess/Prep/Lance	27.50
1	Chlorhexaderm Sol Dvm (8oz)	11.40
1	Naxcel 1gm Disp	58.00
4	Syringe 3cc	1.00
4	Needle 20x1	.80
	subtotal	148.20

Thanks and Farewell: Letting the Boys Move On

Aspen and Alder with their new owners

It has been a little over 8 weeks since Yuli's bore her two boys into our little herd, and they have bored their way in to our hearts. We knew from the first we could not keep them, with the limited resources at our disposal. We also knew that we wanted them to be loved, and that by freely giving them our love, they would be lovable by others. So, we have treated them as if they were staying with us indefinitely.

We have gained so much joy watching these two grow quickly from active little newborns to curious little devils. We watched them discover that there were other, bigger goats in the world, and held our breaths as they experienced the goat hierarchy welcoming rites, as they learned whom they needed to avoid, and when and how to do it. We let ourselves feel the sense of togetherness when they settled in with the herd, having moments of fun and connection with their elders. We watched them welcome younger babies into the herd, just as they had been welcomed, thus perpetuating the skill of wariness so important for goat survival.

We also helped them to learn from us ways to modify their "natural" capricious and sometimes vicious behavior to fit in with our expectations. Head butting only with willing partners, not near humans. No pushing or jumping on people, expecially from behind. Come to us, and we will pay attention to you, even if we are in the middle of mucking or mending or doing some other interminable task that must be incomprehensible to our caprine friends. He who first jumps upon the person feeding feeds last. Stand near without pushing, and you'll get pats and scritches and other loving interaction; push or jump and you'll wish you had controlled yourself.

Sharing these lessons have brought us together, and the individual personalities start to come through.

In this short time, Aspen has overcome a very strong need to push and butt with his head, something he was accustomed to doing even before he was born. Alder has learned that it is not always appropriate to stop suddenly in front of a person from whom he seeks favor, especially if that person is walking, and particularly if the person is carrying anything like a bucket of water.

They, in turn, have educated us in their particular ways. It is fascinating to watch as a curious intelligent animal such as Aspen discovers a new challenge. When being chased by the big boys, Aspen first was knocked unawares on his side. Surprisingly, he still ventured near the offending brute, but soon he was knocked less, and very shortly learned to jump quickly at the merest hint of a threat from the bigger goats. This has kept him on his toes, and made him alert to other dangers and pleasures. This week, when Aspen was chasing one of the littlest doelings, she made a sudden escape across a new climbing toy made of wooden pallets which Aspen had not yet encountered. He found his feet fell through the spaces in the angled pallet, slowing his progress as he scrambled across it. Immediately, he shifted his attention away from tormenting goats littler them him to this new type of obstacle. "Interesting," he seemed to say. "What is this? Hmm... sometimes I slip, sometimes I don't. Let's look at it from the side... how about from up here. Look, if I step on the topmost corner of any board, I maintain my foothold." Within 30 seconds, he was scrambling up and down at a rapid pace without ever missing a step!

Sunset on the Waiting Period

After Tom and Huckleberry's welcome comic relief, their mother finally set the sun on the anticipation of her new progeny. All the signs of labor started in earnest yesterday evening. We were too tired to stay up with her, leaving her at midnight with contractions going at intervals of about 2 or 3 minutes. "We'll get a few hours sleep, then come check on ya girl." As daybreak shone its luster on the valley and wall clock's delicate hands pointed toward time to shower for a 9am presentation, our Oberhasli blossom began the earnest push, and we happily tabled any other morning plans.

Foxglove, as perhaps not mentioned before in this forum, was crossed last Fall with a handsome American Alpine. Strong-boned and tight-shouldered, a lovely, kind temperament, and impressive family history for milk production. They got on famously, and their offspring have been anticipated fondly both by hiker and by milker. A buckling of that parentage should grow into a nice strong packer; or with the combined milk-production capability of the two lines, a doeling would be a great addition to the dairy project.

The wait is finally over! Our herd is now increased by two new obie-alpine females, each born weighing 10 pounds dry (big girls!), with withers at about 15 inches, and a long straight back. The dairy side of the house is ecstatic.

Huckleberry's Helmet

It's kiddin' time around the farm, and all hands are so focused on the kids we have and the ones to come, that sometimes the grown goats must feel a bit left out. Older kids lose laptime to younger. Milkers may get fewer pats and scritches. And the working wethers start to wonder if we'll ever get on the trail again!

To combat the boredom, and perhaps to get a bit of attention from the distracted staff, hi-jinx may ensue. Zixi finds more and better opportunities to say "I love you" by pressing against you as she passes by. ("Oh, why are you falling down in the straw?" her eyes innocently ask.) Tom, always the king of the spinning leap, capers higher and with more flourish and dances wildly around the spools on the field. Huckleberry, not to be outdone, makes creative use of ... an empty water bucket!?

Here we go again???

You'd think we would learn. Gestation periods are not precise. For a normal goat gestation, they don't just say "150 days". They add a very important qualifier: "plus or minus 5 days." So, rather than marking a day on the calendar as "Foxglove's Due Date" with several exclamation points and fooling ourselves that we can rely on that, shouldn't we really mark the 11 day period surrounding that date with question marks?

Compared to most goat lovers I read, we're novices. And it shows, every time we come around to kidding season. We try to plan--outings, seminars, special projects--around the so-called "due date" but invariably find ourselves surprised, often scrambling to exchange or donate theatre tickets, hiking trips, personal visits.

Case in point: Our Foxglove. A general rule we have accepted is that a doe's second freshening is easier and often shorter than her first. Foxglove went 154 days in her first... so what do we do? First we worry that "earlier" could be a week less than 150 days! After fretting about our plans to be out of town that weekend, and drawing up detailed notes for our goat sitters, we realize our error, and decide that things really should be okay until at least day 144.

When day 145 arrives, she shows no sign of impending delivery, and her behavior in our daily contact with her almost makes us forget she is with kid. Until day 150. Then she starts in with the signs. Laying down, getting up. Pawing the ground. Stargazing. Tail stretching to the sky. Extra friendliness. Chatting. Uh oh... better hurry and clean out that kidding stall! Scramble, scramble, scramble! Why did we forget? Well, this is it. Call everyone... here goes...

Umm... what?

Enjoying her new quarters, all signs of labor stop. For days. Day 151 passes, then 152.

"She is not pregnant at all is she?"
"Nope. Just fat. Very, very fat."
"And that udder? Looks like it is really bagging up."
"Fat."

Murphy's Answer to Countdown

Oh what a night! Yuli's first freshening, and the family's first kidding in a while...

Amazing how much people (myself among the best) can draw from a natural process a never-ending series of escalating worries.

How odd that we our open minds beset
With phantoms of our own imagining.
To take a process natural as can be,
And beef about the bridges yet to come
Which very well may never come to pass,
And stew in worry over this or that
One hundred thousand ways to skin a cat.
The anguish can attack, annoy, depress,
Afflict us with the grumpies or yet worse,
Make us to run away from what is good.
Yet lacking fears to torment our small minds,
We'd miss the sequel: O! Such sweet relief!

~Daddy Goat

So, where to start? How about with schedules. Yuliana, like many of our animal cousins, has mastered a bit of freedom from calendars. The perfect 150 day gestation would have been Saturday, which would also have fit in with other lovely plans we have made for the following week, showing off the babies and mom in a variety of educational activities. Sunday, Day 151, gave no signs of impending delivery. Monday, Day 152, and the week begins to take hold of our minds... Heck, we probably would even forget she was gestating, except that we have her separated. Tuesday, Day 153... sigh.... A watched doe never kids.

Let's see, what would Murphy do? I know. Let's plan to go to a concert 30 minutes travel away!

Bingo!

"I'm at the concert, where are you?"

"Just checking on the goats. Oh! Yuli is showing mucous! Hmm... I don't think we're joining you, but you go ahead...."

And to annoy the concert masters, but to my delight, text message updates between numbers.

"What's happening?"

"Having contractions... Everything seems fine. Mama coming with supplies soon. I comforting Yuli. She pawing and talking much."

"She eating hay betwn cntrctns. Mor fluids cming out."

"Yuli not eating. We cold & hngry. Concert over?"

"Done. Shall I stop for food on the way home?"

"No, friendly neighbor made us quesadilla's and tea. Get something for yourself."

Almost to the store: "Oh! she's pushing!" Oops! Don't want to miss the birth entirely... Abort food run and go!

Several hours later... after much pushing and pulling, coaxing, fussing--all seeming totally beside the point after the fact--and much licking of everyone and almost everything by the should-already-have-been-a-mother-by-now, out comes a big beautiful white with black baby. Happily identified as a very large doeling at first... but later discovered to be a beautiful boy, 10 pounds 2 ounces. (That explains the delay! Poor Yuli!) Followed hard after by a black with brown brother weighing in at just under 7 pounds.



The new mom knows her stuff! Cleaning up each kid and the kidding area with her unstoppable tongue.