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.

Kidding countdown - 5, 4, 3...

May 10 - Day 145 - 5 days to Yuli's perfect 150: Got the appropriate sized link to attach the stock panel to the barn doorway. Kidding pen all set and awaiting signs from the prospective mother that she is in need of isolation. Any time now! (Hee, hee. Whee! Kids!!!!)

May 11 - Day 146 - 4 days to Yuli's perfect 150: We moved Yuli into the barn, bringing along her mother for company. They don't like being away from the rest of the herd. Even Yuli, who has suffered of late from T-bone attacks from the boys and their mother, seems to be calling to the others. I guess I can't blame them. For a bit of security, she's had to give up quite a bit of freedom. A large enclosure, with protection, but not so much space to roam, and though they have plenty of grass hay, I know they will miss the fresh grass that has started to grow in the last weeks.

May 12 - Day 147 - 3 days to Yuli's perfect 150: Jail break! Did those clever girls figure out how to open a spring-loaded utility clip, or did we fail to connect it properly? Well, whatever the case, Yuli and Zixi pushed through the lower part of our makeshift stock-panel gate and roamed free... and where did they head? To the heritage orchard, with baby apple trees that they pruned during their Fall escape from this same barn? No, thank goodness. They appear to have made a bee line (or rather a goat line) to the rest of the herd. "Hey guys, we're back, let us in!" When that didn't work, they found some lush new grass growing in the field just outside, and had a hay day! Gotta love 'em.

Friday the 13th and the Big Bad MRSA

So, goats get sick. As evidenced by my earlier post, sometimes they get mysterious sores. But, if there is no discomfort, and the sore heals well, one might think little of it. Until another goat gets a sore a week later, but maybe not the same type of sore. And it scabs and hangs on being sore, and losing a bit of hair with the scabs.

So you take a sample and send it to a lab for testing. Is it bacterial, virulent, or fungal? And what if the lab comes back saying it is bacterial, a staph-type bacteria, and as a courtesy to those who use the ranch, you have isolated the infected goats and posted signs that while you are investigating the problem, please remember what should be your usual care of general cleanliness and handwashing.

"Have you had a vet in to look at them?" People will ask. No, I called the local animal hospital for advice, took pictures, sent a sample off for testing. "But what about the health hazards?" What health hazards? We isolated the affected goats, we are using extra precautions in handling them. "We'll get our vet to come out!" Thanks, that's not needed. "Our vet will do the exam, we'll pay." Really, not necessary. "No, we insist."

We just got our results back from the lab, which show large numbers of staphylococcus aureous. Ok. A staph infection. Is it serious? Lab report says the staph was sensitive to every broad spectrum antibiotic, so easily treated. "Oh no, don't treat until our vet comes and checks it out! Kids use the ranch, we should know what it is before we treat it." But my vet says it is treatable. "The county council is involved now. We will examine your goats. You will cooperate."

This is weird. Why do I listen to this nonsense? Did they hear anything I have been saying? Oh, I get it, I'm not a vet, so of course, I probably contaminated the scab or something. That's it, the sensitive staph was mine. Whatever. Let him come. Not today? Three days from now? I thought it was an emergency for you. Poor boys. Delaying treatment and release from confinement because Daddy is too timid to believe in his own research, even when confirmed by a peer and a mentor. I'm not a trained vet. Neither are they. Maybe we don't know what we're doing.

So, the big day came--three days later. Not only did he examine the four isolated goats, but all goats on the premises. Found two fresh cases by then. Looks bad. "It may be staph aureus, but I want to speciate it." Huh? Staph aureus is the species, is it not? "Looking for subspecies ... Mersa is a big problem ... overuse of antibiotics ... should minimize exposure to children ... "

Sounds fishy to me... like someone who has been recently to a seminar on health problems in hospitals... but what do I know? Ok, so lockdown at the barn. No children. Minimize exposure. Only 1-2 people in barn to do the chores that once were shared by a dozen. Use chlorhexadine boot bath coming in and going out. I'm dying here. What happened to our cooperative educational ranch? What is "mersa" anyway??? Well, no time to find out, too much work shifting all our routines around to comply with biosecurity guidelines instituted by the officious, and turning our ideals of positive interaction and cooperation out with the footbath water. Vigilance committees report on violators to officials who have no jurisdiction, but who can make life uncomfortable... and do.

How long will this take? A few days for the culture to confirm staphylococcus aureus, another day for ... what was that? ... "speciation"? Repeated in a phone call. Yep. "Speciation".... "mersa". Do you mean by "speciation" the identification of the strain of staph? Looking for... MRSA? The strain of staph that has killed people in hospitals because it is so hard to kill?

But how could it be MRSA if it is not resistant to even the most commonly used antibiotics????

Sigh.