Goat Psychology 101

It got up to 74 degrees this afternoon, but I feel a little chill creeping in now.  It will rain and get much cooler tonight and the rest of the week may even be colder than normal for this time of year.

Yesterday was also balmy.  We are having a short-lived “Spring” in January.  I raked out the big barn and let some of the mother goats and babies out of their maternity stalls to get some exercise.  All the mothers and babies in the Green Barn got to go out into its fenced yard.  We are somewhere over thirty kids with some more still to come.  Two were born today so far.  I am glad I was strict on how long the buck could stay, because I appear to be coping pretty well, despite the intense management and record keeping.  My husband has been helping out.

Here is something I told him this morning after he made the mistake of dragging the new mother away from the place where her new kids were to set her up in a clean stall:

Never try to move the mother goat first.  Move the kids to the stall and let her follow.

She is in a sea of hormones.  Goats, at first, do not identify their kids visually.  They use smell and the taste of the afterbirth they’ve been licking off to establish which kids are theirs – especially in a herd of any size. 

If you pick up a newborn or even a week old goat kid, its mother becomes confused and searches for it.  She knows who you are but does not look up into your arms for her baby.  If it isn’t on the ground, she just can’t figure out where it is!  So, let her follow you and search for her kids on the ground in the new stall.  This will also have the effect of saving your back when you are wrestling with a frantic new mother. 

When Don dragged the new mother to the new stall, where I had taken the babies in advance of the struggle, she just ran back to the place she’d been licking them off.  All that was in her head is that he’d taken her away from her kids!  She didn’t even see them there in the newly prepared stall.  I had to talk her down and make a fuss over the babies to get her to sniff them and calm down from the trauma of being dragged away.  Hopefully, all is well.  They’re certainly making a good attempt at nursing.  If her colostrum comes in quickly they’ll all be happy and well.

 

January

'Just popping in to say that kidding began on Friday.  So far, it's been slow and steady -- eleven births from five does.  Of course, that is just two days in.  We won't know what today holds until I get down to the barns.

All the preparations done in the Fall, with my brother's help, have paid off in terms of ease of housing does with their young.  And everytime I look at the full spring-fed waterer, I think of him.  Thanks!

I'll take some pictures at some point.  The kiddies are too cute not to share.  For now, I'm trying to balance doing what needs to be done with taking care of myself.

Winter and Waiting

Winter came precisely on cue this year.  On Solstice, the 21^st of December, the air turned bitterly cold.  The wind blew all remaining leaves off the trees and there were snow flurries all day long.  Thankfully, no snow stayed on the ground.  The wind continued through the night.  I heard a loud bang at about 3 a.m. and will look around to figure out what got blown around at morning’s light.

The clouds hang low and ominous.  They look heavy and thick.  We are pressed upon by the charcoal sky.

So, now I will check the goats to see if my theory about kidding holds.  They seem to wait for uncomfortably cold weather to start dropping kids.  There may be a practical reason.  Maybe bad germs aren’t as likely to cause problems.  Who knows?  Maybe it is just to force the goatkeeper to suffer from painfully frozen fingers – but I doubt it.

At any rate, it won’t be long now. 

December

It is unseasonably warm.  Daytime temps go from 50 to 70.  We've had no rain in over a month.  Well, unless you count 1/100th of an inch in some places in our region.

I always get edgy when we are in a drought.

Each morning, I stand outside the big barn as the goats go up the hill in single file.  I'm rudely oggling udders, watching for signs of impending kidding.  Our guard llama, Zorio, apes me.  He also stands and inspects the troops.  Then, he follows up the hill, going around to an open gate, as he can't get under the fence opening the herd uses.  He meets up with them and stays with them all day, watching for danger.

Last week, I handled a newborn heifer calf, marveling at nature's perfection.  How is it that complicated biological systems come in cute little packages?  She is tiny, but nursing vigorously, and will likely be a little hulk in a month.

Gracie is in the neighboring pasture, obviously wanting to join the rest of the cows.  She's doing great, but I want her to enjoy the priviledge of grain and hay just for her.  Once she is again in her herd, she'll have to fend for herself. 

Amazing Gracie

I found her accidentally when I went down into the valley to treat a bull calf.  She was in the brush on a hillside near the treeline, curled up in a little black ball.

This was the valley where cows parked calves during the day and that was definitely the case with the bull calf.  His mother visited him several times a day to nurse him then left him to his own devices the rest of the time.  I wanted to give him a shot and band him and we managed to catch him and take care of those tasks.  Afterwards, I noticed the other calf.

It seems that Gracie had been abandoned.  She could not stand or walk and was totally blind.  She rolled down the hill, startled when I approached.  She appeared to be about six months old, but starved and dehydrated, as she couldn’t get to water on her own.

We got her to a flat area near a fenced off sinkhole and realized that she was too heavy to pick up and drive up to the corral at the top of the hill.  Even a group of men were unable to figure out a way to move her with the tractor, so we made her a little pen with a tarp covering to protect her from the sun and rain.  I became her “Meals on Wheels,” driving down twice a day to deliver water, hay, and a small portion of sweet feed. 

Calves have the instinct to run away from humans and other animals when they are young.  It is a good instinct.  But Gracie must have just panicked without the ability to flee.  She was tentative about the feed at first, never having had it.  Soon, she seemed to look forward to the sound of my motor in the morning and evening.  It was a good month before I saw her try to move around the pen.  She was managing to crawl to a dry area under the tarp.  Soon, I’d see her out in the sun beyond the tarp.  However, I wondered what I’d do when rain or snow impeded my driving on the fairly steep hillside.  Although I realized that this was an uneconomical hobby, I really couldn’t bring myself to re-abandon her and let her die.

The bull calf had finally followed his mother up the hill and Gracie was all alone except for my visits.  She let me pet her and rub her curly head.  Her eyes were very damaged, but she seemed to be very good at sensing where I and the food and water were.  She was responding quite nicely.

Last week, Gracie actually was trying to get up on her legs for a few seconds.  The blood circulation must have been cut off after months of lying down.  That was a happy sight, but when she was able to stand up to drink from the water bucket, I was certainly amazed.  I had no thought that she’d ever stand up.

When she began to walk around the pen, staggering in a stiff legged forward movement, I was still more surprised.  After a couple of days, I left the pen gate open so that she could graze on the grass.  She ventured out and began a multi-day climb to the top of the hill.  I’d drive down to wherever she was on a given day and deliver her food and water.  She was visibly exhausted each evening and she just lay on the hill to rest. 

Yesterday, she made it to the top.  There is an automatic waterer there, which she evidently has mastered as she rejected the water bucket.  She’s got hay and feed and will, I hope, continue to improve in condition.  The herd will cycle back to that field in a couple of months and with luck she’ll be reintegrated.

Gracie once was lost, but now she’s found; was blind, but now she (almost) sees.

It's Raining, It's Pouring...

On Sunday morning, with the help of friends, we got about 500 square bales into the barn lofts.  By then, two old farmers had been turning bales in the field and lifting them onto hay wagons for two days and we had just about used up all of our aging muscle.

Last week was perfect for cutting, raking, and baling.  The temperature was down in the low eighties and the humidity low.  We got some good looking green hay.

We knew that rain was predicted for late Sunday, so it was imperative to keep going to get it all under cover.  There were the 22 round bales which could be moved by tractor into a shed, but the square bales, necessary for feeding the goats during the winter maternity season, required a more hands-on approach.  This is also a much more labor intensive procedure.

So, just as the last bale ascended up the hay elevator into the loft, it started sprinkling.  By the next morning, it was raining lightly but steadily.  Last night, I could hear the rain beating on the roof all night long.  This morning, it is still raining on the newly shorn fields and filling up the pond to the great delight of the geese.

It is 70 degrees this morning and we're expecting temperatures in the seventies during the days this coming week.  It is a relief to have lofts and sheds full of hay for the cows and goats.

Last Gasp?

Yesterday afternoon, a storm of short duration blew away the heat and humidity.  Is this Summer's last gasp?

I hope so.

This morning, I was able to do four tasks before I started to sweat and needed a rest.  That is quite an improvement!

My eggplant on the porch has developed a nice shiny dark purple fruit.  There are peppers on one of the larger potted plants.  In the garden, interesting heritage tomatoes are abundant, as are large red peppers.

I roasted some peppers and put them in the refrigerator in a little brine to use in salads and sauces.

August

The sun was a red disk when I woke up this morning.  The kitchen is on the Eastern side of the house and I always look out at the sunrise as I grapple about for coffee.  What this bodes, I don't know, but it is unusual.

A slight tilt of the planet has given us the first tugs and pulls of weather change for late summer.  There are occasional days of lower humidity.  We are promised slightly cooler temperatures for the weekend. 

Plants respond immediately to the less roasting temps.  They begin to flower again.  The eggplant on the porch has six lavender blossoms promising fruit.  The pepper plants are also blossoming.  Four-O-Clocks in pots bloom in a variety of colors.  Rose of Sharon and Hydrangeas are also displaying some nice flowers.  The intense heat, however, seems to have negatively affected some plants which would normally be in bloom.  Butterfly bushes, for instance, bloomed early this year but not as spectacularly as in some years.

Meanwhile, in the veg garden, tomatoes are ripening and we've already consumed a good amount.  Peppers are large but still green.  I've processed all the peaches.  Now, apples and figs are ready to pick.  This is keeping me busy in between other tasks.

Our cows have dropped three calves in the last month.  The goat herd, which had a year off from producing young, are cavorting with a borrowed buck who has the status of rock star.  He is always followed by a small cabal of groupies, which changes as they settle.  We've agreed to keep him until October, so there will surely be births during the coldest months of winter.  It will be interesting to see if there are any November births from the last buck.  There didn't seem to be much activity when he was here, but you never know.  Sometimes they can fool you.

July

I'm hanging on through the heat and humidity.  I really hate July and August.

We've had a little rain now and then.  It came down for a reasonable time yesterday afternoon.  That is most welcome.  It's been in the nineties steadily.  Tomatoes and peppers are developing nicely in the garden.  I've got a healthy looking eggplant growing in a pot up on the porch. 

Since I've taken the time to plant lettuce successively, there is plenty for salads.  Squash is out of control.  There are more spaghetti squashes than I can bake, scrape out and freeze, as I'm just about out of freezer space.  We have enjoyed one of several nice red meated watermelons and there are numerous cucumbers in the cooler from the first planting.  A new crop of long oriental cukes are going to be ready later this week.  The chickens are getting squash deliveries daily.

On Sunday, I planted lettuce and Brussels sprouts because I know this is the time to do so for a Fall crop.  If I can manage to breathe, I'll plant cabbage and broccoli this week.

The crows are picking off the pears in all day thieving sessions.  They are not even ripe, so I don't know what the fascination is with them.  Maybe they just love pears.  Meanwhile, I'm trying to protect the nearly ripe peaches and day lilies from deer and a menagerie of other would-be thieves by playing a radio all night along with blinking Christmas lights.  It is truly Christmas in July on our farm.

Stalking the Wild Raspberry

Black raspberries are available for only a short time in the late Spring/early Summer.  They grow wild in shady spots which are usually on fence lines.  I know where they grow and that they are accessible after the first hay mowing in our pastures.

Yesterday, the morning was cool and refreshing before the beady eye of the sun burned off the fog.  I drove my little utility vehicle up to the hay field, as I do every other day.  A deer ran off, startled.  She was likely browsing on the tasty little berries.  They have delicate leaves and are not as thorny as blackberries.  I managed to pick a small container, then went down into my fenced garden where a couple of bushes have planted themselves next to upright supports.  There, probably because they get watered once in awhile, the berries are bigger and more abundant.

I added whatever blueberries were ripe to the container.

A young red cardinal was trapped within the bird netting cage that protects the blueberries (supposedly) from birds.  He kept flying into the netting in his panic at my presence.  I was able easily to pick him up and take a good look.  Nature is an artist.

I let him go outside of the netted cage and he flew off into the big arbor vitae, singing his mating song.  I’d like to think he was singing it to me in gratitude for letting him go free without harm.

One day soon, the black raspberries will shrivel and dry out, as will their leaves.  By then, the blackberries, which are hanging large and red, will have ripened and will want picking.