Sunday, May 08, 2011

"It ain't over till it's over"...

...the immortal words of Yogi Berra.

Yes, folks, just when I "graduated" the last class from the maternity barn and we started getting back to normal (whatever that is) I found a little orphan screaming her lungs out.  No tag.  This was two days ago.

Was someone playing a joke by dropping off goat babies in our barn?  No.  I found her mother that evening.  She'd had the baby and gone off to graze for the day.  They are now in the maternity barn and yard.

Today -- you guessed it!  Baby boy.  Baby #111.  This defies my understanding of gestation since the buck wasn't here longer than a month.  Are there more to come?  Stay tuned to this channel for the answer to that and other perplexing questions.

Happy Mother's Day!

Wednesday, May 04, 2011

Tempus Fugit

It seems impossible that my last post was in early April. It is now May. Iris have just started to burst through their paperlike buds. Spring rains grow grass quickly and it is nearly time for the first mowing of hay. The lawns have been mowed several times already.

Tiny apricots, pears, peaches, figs and apples are on the trees, foretelling a good fruit harvest. I've been picking and freezing asparagus and eggs are plentiful.

We ended up with well over a hundred little goatlings. Today, I "graduated" the last bunch from the maternity barn to graze the pastures. I decided to put the four bottle babies in that enclosure, as there is a refrigerator and microwave in that barn and it will be more convenient to keep milk there and warm it up. There is also soap and water and I'll be able to de-gunk when they splatter me with milk. Since it will be in the 30s tonight, that is a good warm place for them to stay.

I call them the gang of four, AKA the howling banshees. Bottle kids can be thugs, especially the males. Their cuteness makes them tolerable. They guzzle milk like it is going out of style. They run to greet me and trip me by winding around my feet. Little goats seem to have the impression that humans have milk somewhere in their legs, but it is not precise just where. They love, love, love milk and they love, love, love attention and cuddling.

We've achieved a sort of system and I actually manage to cook meals and am catching up with cleaning in the house. The vegetable garden is unplanted. I've considered just seeing what I can glean from the perennial crops and berries this year, as we have plenty frozen and canned from last year. I'll likely relent and get things in the ground soon.