This Blog Has Moved!

Hello again, friends. If you've followed along with my blogs for a while now, you may have noticed some changes to the scenery. Welcome to the new design!

The changes are because I have now transitioned my blog from Blogger to Wordpress. I'd been with Blogger for a long, long time. I like a lot of things about Blogger and I think it's a great platform, especially for those new to blogging.

However, there are a lot of really awesome things about Wordpress. Over at WP, I have more options. More customize-ability. And, in general, a better format and platform for sharing my blog successfully.

Plus, I'm really loving the new design.

Of course if you're reading this from WP, you are already familiar with the new design. If you're reading this post on blogger, please head over to the WP blog and follow along there! (You'll see a subscribe option to the right of the blog).

I am leaving my Blogger blog up indefinitely, with this as the last post. However, From this point forward, all new blogs will be posted via WP.

I will miss Blogger. Leaving it behind has been like giving away an old blanket or stuffed toy. I'm happy with Wordpress, though, and I do feel this is the right decision.

So whether you're new or old, thank you for joining me at my new blog.

Cheers

9 Things That Happen When You Homestead

If you're considering becoming a homesteader, raising livestock, or taking part in any sort of farm-like activities, let me first warn you about 9 things that are almost guaranteed to happen when you do:

1. You will become the main source of info about all things homesteading/farming to everyone you know. 

You probably know several other homestead-minded people, since we tend to seek each other out, but it's a pretty exclusive club. Only the really cool kids are allowed in, and let's face it -- most of your friends just aren't that cool. I'm just layin' down the facts, Ma'am, just the facts. But those of your friends who are that cool will come to you when they are getting started, aren't very experienced yet, and need advice.

2. You will also get tagged in every video or picture on Facebook of cute baby livestock antics.

It will seem inexplicable to you, but most people actually don't own livestock. Some people don't even like them -- shocking, I know.  There's a pretty good chance that you may be the only livestock owner some of your friends and family know. As such, you're the first one they think of when a cute goat picture pops onto their news feed. It's good that there's no such thing as too many cute baby animals.

3. You will realize that the vast majority of people are uneducated about things like the facts of life, where our food comes from, and other things that will be (un)common sense to you. 

I don't mean this in a disrespectful way. It's a huge failing of our education. Once upon a time when most people produced the majority of their own food, homestead wisdom was common place. Now it's a rarity. The fact is that way too many people don't know simple things like why cows make milk, where eggs come from, or that most breeds of pigs can reach a mature weight of 500+ pounds. 

You will be met with a lot of ignorance, sometimes from potential customers, sometimes from people who own livestock and don't do enough research, sometimes from complete strangers, and sometimes from family and friends. These situations will leave you scratching your head, but it will also give you a desire to educate the uninformed (and sometimes misinformed) masses!

4. You will become immune to a number of, shall we say, "unique" smells.

Ah, the sweet smell of the barnyard in the morning. Manure. Compost. Buck stank (aka eau de male goat urine and scent glands). Horse sweat. Human sweat. Hay. Straw. Dust. Fly attractant. Various medical supplies, such as salves. You will eventually stop noticing such smells, but remember that those around you will not! Here's a helpful guide for when it's safe to go out without showering after working on the farm (click to view larger):

5. You will constantly be learning.

It doesn't matter how long you've been doing something, there is always more to learn. Just when you think you've got a pretty good handle on things, life will throw you another curve ball. This is a good thing, though, because you will get really good at researching and you will make a lot of connections with mentors, vets, and otherwise more experienced people than yourself who will help you along the way. No matter how smart or experienced you are, there is always someone who knows something you don't and always something you haven't experienced yet! 

Thankfully it's fun to learn in most cases, but some lessons will be learned the hard way. Those are the times when you just have to stick what you've learned in your back pocket and move forward.

6. You will find hay in unexpected places.

Your hair. Your bed. Your underwear/bra. Your shoes. I've even looked down to see hay floating in my water glass. It's impossible to keep the stuff under control! This is especially unpleasant for those of us with mild hay allergies, because it also gets in your nose and on your skin. On particularly bad days you will be blowing hay particles out of your nose.

7. "Normal" food starts to taste bad.

Pasteurized homogenized milk? Ewwww. Refrigerated eggs with pale yellow yolks? No thanks. Anything that comes in a box? Homemade is so much better. And let's be honest here -- nothing will ever compare to the taste of a fresh, fully ripe melon right off the vine... All that under-ripe, shipped-in produce just pales in comparison. 

This applies to other store bought items as well. There are few things you can't make yourself (or buy direct from a person or farm) that isn't of better quality than the goods that fill store shelves. We haven't used store-bought soap in years!

Of course, that doesn't mean that you'll never order a pizza or head to your favorite Mexican restaurant for supper at the end of a long day. There will always be days when you don't want to cook!

8. Your idea of normal conversation will not be what most would consider normal. 

It's not unusual to discuss various bodily functions, body parts, or other unusual or sometimes even gross topics. You will lose all boundaries and language filters when it comes to the things that go on with your livestock. Who cares if you're eating that pizza we talked about earlier? If it's on your mind, it's most likely going to come out of your mouth. And why are people so bothered by words like "testicles" anyway? It's just a natural body part, after all.

The good news is that if any of your friends are in the medical field, they can easily commiserate with you. They see worse things on a daily basis than you will ever see on a farm. *shudders*

9. You will realize how blessed you are to live on farm, big or small. 

Whether you live on one acre or a hundred, whether you consider yourself a farmer, gardener, homesteader, or something in between...you are one of the lucky ones. That feeling of gratitude will never go away, because you have way more blessings than you can count. 

Cheers 

Thoughts while Waiting on Joy (Nigerian Color Genetics)

As Joy's due date nears (end of June/early July), I am of course nervous, but I'm also really curious to see what her kids will look like! There is always that anticipation -- bucks or does? how many? -- but Joy's kidding presents a unique opportunity in the color genetics department. Joy is a black goat with minimal white, so genetically speaking she is only able to pass on black (or, very rarely, recessive red) and her white patches to her kids. That may sound boring, so if you're wondering what could possibly be so interesting about a goat who can only pass on the gene for black, let me explain:

Please bear with me here. I find genetics endlessly fascinating, but I will admit that they're a little over my head. So I'm going to avoid the fancy jargon for the most part. Not many people are familiar with those terms, and there's a very good chance I would use some incorrectly anyway. I'm not a geneticist, so let's just keep it simple for everyone's sake! First, I will try to briefly and simply cover the basics of what I'm talking about so that things make a little sense.

The Basics as I understand them: Each goat has two copies of a gene that determines their color or pattern, one from each parent. Recessive genes are genes that require two copies (one from each parent) in order to be visibly expressed on the goat. Dominant genes are genes that only require a single copy in order to be visibly expressed. If a goat inherits a dominant gene from one parent and a recessive from the other, the dominant gene will be the one to show up in the goat's appearance. These color genes are located on the "agouti locus," which is basically a place in the genetic code that holds the genes that determine color/pattern.

Other things like the specific shade of a color or whether or not the goat has white areas are determined by different genes in different places. For example, the buckskin pattern would be determined by these color genes we're talking about whereas the shade of buckskin (light, dark, mahogany, etc) and any white on the buckskin goat (spots, belt, overlay, roaning, etc) are not. 

What'cha hidin' in there, Joy?

So, about that black gene. In fancy terms, Joy has two copies of the black gene on her agouti locus. This is true of all black goats, because black is a recessive gene. That means that in order for a kid to be born black, both parents must have supplied a copy of the black gene. This is how I determined earlier this year that my buck Bazinga (a red chamoise) and my doe Sandy (a buckskin with white) both carry a copy of the black gene when they produced a black kid. 

This is also means that all black goats have two copies of the black gene, meaning that they can't pass on any other color. Black goats bred to black goats will always produce black goats, and any kid with a black parent is guaranteed to carry at least one black gene, which will be masked by another color unless they also inherit a black gene from their other parent.

Is your head spinning yet? Good, mine too. Let's continue!

Since black is recessive, that means that if Joy has a black kid, then Diddy (a buckskin with white) is also carrying a black gene. In addition, any other colors produced by the pairing must come from Diddy. Basically, whatever other color or pattern may be lurking behind Diddy's buckskin (which is a dominant gene, meaning that any goat that carries that pattern will express it), breeding him to Joy has the potential to reveal it. If they produce a gold kid, for example, then I know that Diddy carries both a buckskin and a gold gene. I don't expect that to happen -- I'm not even sure if it could, since I'm not sure if gold is dominant or recessive -- but I'm just using that as an example.

So what do I actually expect to happen?

Diddy, the daddy-to-be.

Well, I think I am most likely to get black or buckskin kids, probably with at least a little white since both parents are carrying white. However, since Diddy's sire is a chamoise, I would not be too surprised for that pattern to be produced, too. Diddy also has roaning, so that's a possibility as well. 

To be honest, I don't care if those kids come out green! I just want everything to go smoothly and everyone to be healthy. Heck, she can give me more bucklings if she wants. See if I care! Hah! 

In all seriousness, I just find it really interesting and fun to learn about genetics and to play the color guessing game. The more I learn about Nigerian color genetics, the more accurately I can guess. For example, I now know that if I breed Bazinga to a black goat, I will only get black or chamoise kids. (I should have known that already, since he has a black parent, but that didn't occur to me until this blog post...)

They still manage to throw curve balls, though, and I don't think we will ever be able to really predict what the genetics will throw our way when it comes to Nigerians! For example, this year I had two heavily roaned kids out of parents who showed no visible roaning at all. Go figure! 

I guess all that's left to say is this: if you want to know what colors are hiding in your goats, get a black goat for your breeding program (solid if you can find one!). And if you're interested in learning more about this subject, this article is a good starting place. In addition, this website is a great source for learning all the various colors and patterns of Nigerians.

We're all going to have a good laugh if Joy does have a gold kid...

Cheers

Brownie's Birth Story - May 4th, 2015

I realized recently that I never blogged Brownie's birth story as I had promised. Oops! Better late than never, right?

Well, this will be a short tale. Brownie has always been a very stoic, sneaky doe when it comes to giving birth. The first couple of times she did so, I missed it all together. The second time she gave birth, my dad and I checked her before leaving to get lunch at Taco Bell, which is roughly 10-15 minutes away from us. When we came back, she had twin bucklings all dried off and ready to go.

On the morning May 4th, 2015, Brownie seemed pretty much normal. She was a little reluctant to be moved from the barn to the pasture, but honestly that isn't unusual for her. She doesn't like to be walked on a leash, so not wanting to be taken to browse didn't send up red flags for me. I was also in a little bit of a rush to get everyone moved, for reasons I can't remember now, so I just did a quick once-over of her, got everyone moved, and went about my business. Since she didn't seem eminent, I didn't bother to do any extra mid-day checks other than looking out the window. In the back of my mind, I really thought I had at least several days before she gave birth.

That evening when it was time for everyone to go back to the barn for the night, Brownie was also reluctant to go back "home." That struck me as unusual, because the goats are usually ready to make a bee line for the barn when it's time for them go back up for the night. I think they understand that the barn is safer than the pasture, so when dusk is getting closer they want to be tucked in safe and sound.

Noticing this, I stopped to pay more attention. Light bulbs went off. This goat was about to kid! Not in a week or a few days, but tonight! Her behavior and non-existent ligaments were a big tip off, but the main give away was a small amount of amber mucus. A little bit of white or opaque mucus can show up weeks before the doe actually goes into labor, but once you've seen both types of mucus you know the difference. The "I'm about to go" mucus is amber in color and will be present in larger amounts. At first there may only be a bit visible -- on Brownie that night there was perhaps a teaspoon or two early on -- but when things really get going it will come in a long stream. (I should note that I've also had does kid who didn't present significant mucus beforehand. They like to mix it up and keep us on our toes.)

Aye yi yi. Let this be a lesson to you: don't put things off thinking you have plenty of time to do them. I didn't even have the kidding stall ready! Before each doe kids, I like to completely clean out the kidding stall (if it hasn't been already), spread some diatomaceous earth (DE) on the floor, and put down fresh straw or shavings to be sure that everything is nice and neat.

Now it was nearly dusk, the stall was not ready, and the goat was going to kid soon. I have never prepped a kidding stall so fast! I quickly spruced it up, hastily put down some DE, and spread out fresh straw. Then I moved Brownie over, filled a water bucket and hay manger for her, and ran to get my kidding kit from the house.

Then I waited, but I didn't have to wait long at all. She gave birth to single chamoise buckling. Nothing terribly eventful there. He came out feet and nose first just like we like, and nursed fairly quickly.

If there's one thing I can say about Brownie, she is an excellent mother. She kids easily and quickly and takes care of those babies like a pro.

 Way to go Brownie!

Cheers

10 Things Strong Women Want from Men

This isn't my usual type of post, and I'm not really sure what prompted me to write it, but here I am...typing away.

My mom and I were talking with a friend tonight when we ended up on the subject of men. Don't worry, we weren't gossiping -- well, at least not much -- but we were sharing our thoughts and opinions about men and what we look for in them (or, in the case of my married mother, what we appreciate in them).

All three of us are, to one degree or another, farm women. Farm women tend to share a few traits. We're a little different. We're a little stubborn. We're oftentimes a little stinky. (What can I say? Farm life creates some odors...) And we're strong and independent. Farm life ain't for sissies, no matter what level you farm. Anything from a hobby flock of chickens to 100 acres, farming requires hard work, hard decisions, and hard knocks. We're not the only breed of strong women, but we're a pretty unique bunch.

In short, farm women are not exactly delicate lilies swaying in the gentlest of breezes.

All this talk got me to thinking, and thinking leads to writing, and so here I am sharing with you some things strong women -- especially strong farm women -- want in a man. Obviously I can't speak for every woman, as we each have our own individual needs, but I feel like these are some good starting points. 

1. Strong women require strong men. Not to "tame" us (don't get me started) but to compliment us. To walk the journey of life together. Two people can't travel through life together if one person can't keep up with the other. Whether it's carrying hay bales or carrying burdens, physical, mental, and emotional strength are necessary.
2. Command respect. Note I said command, not demand. You can demand respect as loudly as the day is long, but until your character and your actions warrant it, you won't get it. Respect goes a long, long way in a relationship and if you're going to get it from a strong farm girl, you have to earn it. We aren't impressed by posturing or showboating.
3. Be honest. Keep your word and be dependable. Mean what you say and say what you mean; don't falsely represent yourself to impress us. We won't put up with any crap. We shovel that stuff on a regular basis, so we know it when we see it.
4. Be patient. Let's be honest here. You're going to need a lot of patience. No, we probably don't need another [insert animal or plant here], but we're most likely going to get it anyway. Yes, we will be stubborn as a mule, ornery as a goat, pig-headed, moody as a mare, and sometimes mad as a bull seeing red. When we're busy, we run around like a chicken with its head cut off. (We also know exactly what that looks like.) But hey, you're lucky if we take to you like a duck to water!
   
   Also, be patient when trying to cross our fences. We know how to build them hog tight, horse high, and bull strong.
5. Show initiative and take the lead. This doesn't mean boss us around -- that will not go over well. But we don't want you to take a backseat to us, either. We are used to doing things ourselves, making decisions on our own, and basically being independent and self-reliant. However, we don't want a relationship in which we constantly take the lead. We expect a man to be able to step into a leadership role, get stuff done, and be the first to take action sometimes. Jo Dee Messina said it well when she sang, "I want a man that stands beside me / not in front of or behind me." Although, if someone is trying to mug us, please do stand in front. Just sayin'.
6. Be ready and willing to commit. If there's one thing farm girls are excellent at, it's commitment. Think about it: taking care of livestock or crops requires a huge commitment. Day in and day out, we have to take care of our critters and/or land. Lives depend on us! We don't chase whims at the drop of the hat, and we expect to receive the same commitment we give.
7. Be steadfast. Sometimes we can be pulled in a million different directions by the thousand thoughts we have running through our heads and the seemingly endless list of things we must do. Be a compass pointing north. Be an anchor helping us to be still. Be a rock in a swift current. Knowing that you are [cue synonyms of steadfast] loyal, faithful, dependable, reliable, steady, and true is vital and it will help us quiet our minds.
8. Understand that we don't need you. We may want you a whole awful lot, but we don't need you. We are strong independent women who don't need no man! In all seriousness, however, there's a good chance we've been single for a while. There's a good chance we're a little (or a lot) hard to win over. This isn't because we play games or because we want to be single for the rest of our lives. It is because we recognize our self worth and we know what we need. If we know you're not the right man for us, we won't date you just for the sake of dating (which is a good thing in the long run).
9. Be a 1 Corinthians 13/Proverbs 31 kind of man. Be patient. Be kind. Do not envy. Do not boast. Do not be proud. Honor others. Don't be self-seeking. Control your temper. Don't keep a record of wrongs. Rejoice with the truth. Always protect, always trust, always hope, always persevere.
   
   Are you scratching your head at the second part of my statement? That's okay. Everyone always talks about the Proverbs 31 woman, and for good reason of course. But did you ever notice what her husband does? He has full confidence in her. As noble as she is, we know that no human can ever be perfect, yet her husband still places his trust in her. He allows her to conduct her own business. He is respected. He praises her. Sounds like a heck of man to me! And surely neither would be able to be what they are (noble and respected) if not for the encouragement and support received from each other.
   
   Oh, and you can throw in some Song of Solomon, too, if you're feeling romantic. ;)
10. Be firmly rooted. In faith, first and foremost, but in other areas as well. In relationship. In commitment. In character. In love. Just as a tree is held by its roots, so shall you be held by your roots during the storms of life, and by extension your family will be as well.  

Even though this is far from my usual post, I enjoyed writing it! I hope you enjoyed reading it, too. And if you happen to see this perfect man walking around, point him in my direction! *wink wink*

Cheers

Goats Are Not Pets

Uh oh. I think I just opened a can of worms.

Before you get too angry, let me clarify: I said goats are not pets. I did not say that goats cannot be kept as pets. But even if you own goats that you keep as pets...goats are not pets.

Goats are livestock.

I love my goats, as most goat owners do. I enjoy spending time with them and if I'm honest, I'd rather own goats than cats or dogs, if I were forced to choose. Goats can absolutely be wonderful companion animals or even therapy animals, and there are many people who own goats just because they like them. At the end of the day, though, how we choose to own goats doesn't change the fact that goats are livestock.

Here are some cold hard facts about goats:

They don't belong in your living room. Would you keep a cow in your living room? A horse? What about a camel? Just because goats are smaller than other species of livestock doesn't mean that they should live in your home.  

Oh, I've had goats in my house before. I'm not saying they should never be taken inside for any reason. I'm just saying that goats deserve to live a life with more space and freedom than one cooped up inside a house. Also, if you value your breakable possessions such as those lovely ceramic candle holders you keep on your coffee table, goats are not a good choice to keep as inside pets. They will tap dance all over them. Goats like to climb, jump, be up high, rub on things, and chew on things. Your furniture is no exception. 

(For the record, I think house chickens are pretty silly, too. Where is that poor chicken going to scratch for bugs, grit, and grass? How is she to take her dust baths? What exactly are you doing to keep that chicken poop from going all over your home and infecting your family with salmonella??)

Goats need a goat friend. You see it all the time online. People think that their goat is happy in a single-goat home until suddenly the goat starts exhibiting troublesome behavior because it's lonely and bored. Goats are herd animals. They need at least one other creature of their own kind. Look at herd animals in the wild, like bison, deer, and wild horses. Do you ever see them hanging out with coyotes or living on their own?  

Goats are the only animals that can speak goat.   

I won't even go into the dangers of allowing goats to spend unsupervised time with any dogs other than the guardian breeds that have been developed for centuries to live with, and not eat, livestock. Dogs are predators. Goats are prey. It only takes a split second for the prey drive to be triggered in your dog, and they can and will seriously injure or kill your goats. I find that most people just don't want to accept that Fido and Fluffy will happily attack prey species like rabbits, chickens, and goats, but it happens all. the. time. 

Goats don't really belong in the city. This is a tough one. On the one hand, farm animals belong on farms. They need space to roam, they create messes not usually associated with pet species (there's a big difference between mucking out a stall and scooping up a pile or two of poo each day), and they can often attract flies even under the best circumstances. It's just the nature of the beast.

However, I also understand that goats can live happy and healthy lives in someone's backyard. Although the ideal situation is for them to have the opportunity to browse on fresh plant life, that isn't always possible even for goats living on acreage. My own goats don't always have access to browse. 

For those who want to feed their family goat milk or raw dairy in areas where it's impossible to buy, keeping goats is certainly appealing. Goats are relatively quiet, not too messy, and only the intact males stink if you practice good hygiene in their living areas. There are absolutely valid arguments for keeping goats inside city limits under the right circumstances. I do have to ask, however, that when petitioning your city, please don't argue to have goats reclassified as pets. Simply argue for a change in the rules that allows for small livestock such as chickens and goats. 

Goats are high maintenance. Oh sure, you get used to it after you own them for a while and it's certainly not prohibitive. It all becomes routine. Still, goats have a certain set of particular needs that most pet species do not. I'll just mention a few:

• They're escape artists. 
• If you're milking them and they don't have kids nursing, you have to keep milking them until you dry them off. You can't skip a day.
• They need mineral supplementation (loose minerals 24/7, usually periodic supplementation of copper and/or selenium). These minerals can be toxic to other species.
• They have sensitive digestive systems and are prone to bloat when their systems are upset by sudden changes in diet.
• While there seems to be a small animal vet on every corner, and an equine vet in every town, it can be very difficult to find a vet who is experienced in the care of small ruminants.
• They need their hooves trimmed regularly.
• Goats are prone to potentially deadly internal parasites. They can also get lice or mites, especially in the winter.
• And the list goes on. 

Goats are edible. Most animals are technically edible, but what I mean is that goats are commonly considered to be food in this country. When you get tired of your pet goats, or your city makes you get rid of them, or you realize they're more work than you thought...chances are good that they may wind up on someone's dinner plate. This is especially true of wethers, who don't have a purpose that a breeding goat could not fill. You may be able to find a pet home, but it's entirely possible that even if you do, that pet home will end up selling down the road as well. Trying to make sure that your "pet" goats don't become someone else's chevon when you can no longer care for them isn't really possible. In addition, there will always be more male goats born than needed. If you're considering breeding your goats, keep in mind that males can be hard to sell. You may end up either stuck with a bunch of male goats you don't need or using them for meat either in your own home or someone else's. 

We all have those special goats we could never eat or sell for meat, but let's call a spade a spade and a goat a goat. Goats fall under the category of food animals. This is because they are animals that produce food. Pets are animals that do not or cannot produce food (at least in this country). Therefore, goats are livestock.

As goat lovers, we should be encouraging people to recognize all the incredible potential behind goats. That means we also should promote the consumption of goat milk products and chevon/cabrito! The better the market is for these items, the better the goat market will be in general. Excess goat kids will be easier to sell, and goat products will be easier to find.

There are many breeds of livestock that are in danger of extinction for the simple fact that no one wants to eat them. One reason I chose Nigerian Dwarfs back in 2008 is because they were also threatened by low numbers at that time. Thankfully, their populations have recovered. However, what often happens when a breed experiences a sudden boom in popularity is that the popularity eventually starts to fall again. The breeders who only got in it for the cash, or because it was in vogue, sell out. The market becomes flooded, because there are too many goats and not enough buyers. Difficulty selling forces some of the long-time breeders out of the business, and some leave just because they feel it's time to move on. Suddenly the breed is back to square one.

Does anyone remember when ostrich meat was going to be the next big thing? Or designer dogs? What about emus? Llamas? I remember all of these, and there are even more fads that I'm sure my parents and grandparents can recall. I don't want to see goats follow in the same footsteps as these predecessors. The fact is that goats are very "in" right now, and for good reason. However, their popularity among pet owners, breeders seeking to make a quick buck (no pun intended), and well-intentioned hobbyist may not last long term. After the new wears off, the only thing that will keep goats thriving will be their value as livestock animals.

So even if you own your goats strictly as pets -- and it's fine if you do! -- remember that we should always be seeking to do what is best for the goats...not ourselves. Let's not forget that these very fun, very cute critters are livestock. Most of them have a job to do.

Cheers!

Sandy's Delivery April 15, 2015

Shew. I'm finally getting around to blogging Sandy's delivery! It's been a busy couple of weeks. The week Sandy kidded I was juggling house/pet sitting, caring for my own critters, a content writing gig, and, toward the end of the week, making a cake and 48 cupcakes for a friend's baby shower. Things have slowed down a little, but starting tomorrow I'll be farm sitting again for a few days (just in the evenings, thankfully) and I begin training for another position April 30th. And I'm still content writing.

Baby Bella's cake. The bees were made from homemade marshmallow fondant.

Needless to say, I'm behind on a few things. Like blogging.

But anyway, on to the main topic of today's post: Sandy's labor and delivery!

I was staying about 30 minutes away from home the week Sandy was due and making the trek back and forth twice a day to feed everyone and check on Sandy. Thanks to the new barn camera we installed the weekend before, I was able to spy on Sandy remotely. That was such a huge relief for me. Normally I'd have been making trips to the barn every few hours in the middle of the night, but thanks to the barn cam I could wake up, check on her, and go back to sleep without ever leaving the bed...and I could keep an eye on her from thirty minutes away. If you think barn cams are out of your price range, just click the link above,..these are so affordable, and installation was pretty easy. We did have to call customer support to figure out the remote watching option, but they fixed it for us right away.

Sandy (in kidding stall) and Ariel (to the right) contentedly munching hay.
Ignore the fact that there's a trashcan lid attached to the gate. Our LGD is a climber.

On April 15th, which was a Wednesday, I noticed Sandy was starting to show signs of going into labor. She was being restless, getting up and down, stretching, and not eating as much. I already knew from checking her in person earlier that her ligaments were nonexistent by this point. She wasn't eminent yet, so I continued my normal activities while all the time keeping an eye on her via my smart phone, tablet, or computer...depending on which room I was in. That afternoon I decided to go ahead and get things in order and head home so that I could get everyone at my own barn tucked in and watch her a bit closer. 

The waiting game.

Sandy finally got down to business around 9:00 pm that night. Things progressed normally, although she was more vocal than previous goats for whom I've been a midwife, and finally came a mouth -- complete with a tongue occasionally poking out and then back in -- and then, a hoof. Of course, there are supposed to be two hooves, but I guess this kid didn't get the memo. Now, I've seen goats give birth to a kid with one leg back with no trouble. In fact, Sandy's dam, Brownie, did so last year. But, without describing things in too much detail, I was afraid that she was heading toward a rectal prolapse. She didn't look the way I'd seen others look before. I knew she was making progress with the delivery, but I worried that if she continued straining for too much longer we would have a problem. I had called my mom down from the house for a second opinion, and she got a third opinion by sending a picture to one of our "goat" friends. 

Meanwhile, I put on gloves, iodine, and lubricant and tried to gently work my way in to find the other leg, just to make things go a little more quickly. Normally I wouldn't try to intervene unless no progress was happening, but even though the kid was inching his way out slowly but surely, I wanted to speed thing along so she could stop straining. I didn't have much luck, though. It was extremely tight fit, and the fact that I don't exactly have delicate piano-playing fingers wasn't helping. So I gave up and just watched. (And can I just admit that my hands give me anxiety around kidding time?? Is there some trick to making hands shrink? Because these man-hands of mine weren't made for this kind of stuff. I'm often thinking, okay if Mom [who has small hands] isn't home, who do I know nearby with small hands I can call... If you live near me and have small hands, consider this your warning.)

The kid finally came out on his own, one leg back and all, and things went back to normal on Sandy. He was born a little after 10:00 pm. About the same time he made his grand entrance, our friend had written back that it looked like his head was a little sideways due to only one leg being forward. That was probably causing the strange appearance and the slight delay of her pushing him out. I got the kid's airways cleared and, since it wasn't cold, let Sandy do the rest of his cleaning. He was a little guy, but had good vigor and started trying to stand almost immediately. He latched on very quickly as well.

At this point, Sandy was facing me with her rear in the corner while licking the kid. I didn't think anything about that, really. Mom and I were watching her for signs that she was going to have another, but she just kept standing there. I was beginning to think she was done when I noticed something odd looking behind her...

Unfortunately, Sandy had delivered a second kid without me, my mom, or apparently even herself noticing. I grabbed the kid and tried every method I knew of getting his lungs cleared out. I aspirated him with a bulb syringe, held him partially upside down while rubbing and patting, and I even tried the "swinging method" (not really a recommended method, but I was trying everything). I really already knew he was gone, but you always have to try anyway just in case. So, I stopped to simply evaluate the kid. 

I'm not exaggerating when I say he was tiny. I wish I'd have thought to weigh him, because I would be surprised if he'd weighed much more than a pound. I checked his teeth and found that they hadn't made it all the way through the gums yet, which is a sign of prematurity, and he had very little meat on his bones. Sandy delivered on day 144, which is not incredibly early, but like one person pointed out, a few more days might have made a big difference for this particular kid. (Normal gestation for Nigerians is 145-150 days, for standards it's usually 150-155.) I have to wonder if he would have survived even if I'd seen him immediately after his birth.

If you want to see a picture of the second kid next to a bulb syringe for size reference, click here. If you want to see his underdeveloped teeth, click here. Warning: Do not click either link if you are uncomfortable seeing a deceased goat kid! This is meant to be an educational opportunity, so feel free to scroll on by if it's not your cup of tea.

Although there's no way to know 100%, I speculate that he didn't have as strong a connection to the placenta as his brother. Goat kids usually share a single placenta, although there can be two if there are kids in both of the uterine horns. That would explain why he was so much smaller and less developed than his brother. Differences in birth weight aren't unusual, but this was a pretty extreme difference. His size also explains why Sandy didn't seem to know he was back there, and the humans didn't notice either.

The firstborn is doing well and is hitting that playful stage. He will be available as a wether after weaning. Sandy is also doing very well, and has been a champ on the milk stand. If you knew her before she gave birth, you would be amazed at her behavior on the stand now. She kicks very little, usually just right at the beginning and right at the end (teat dip). She will probably never be a friendly goat, but let me tell you...if you want to improve an unfriendly goat's personality, be there when she kids. Let her lick your hands. And then start to milk her immediately, without separating the kids (even if you don't get much). 

So what did this delivery teach me? Well, first of all, that a leg back can also make the head a little crooked, which can then result in things looking a bit strange on the doe. Secondly, and maybe most importantly, don't let the business end of the goat face away from you when she's in labor. 

I'd like at least one kidding this year where I don't have to learn something...and another doeling or two would be nice! 

Cheers!

Everything You Ever Needed to Know About Bottle Raising Goats

The title is pretty self explanatory for this one, so let's jump right in!

Here is the Definitive List of Everything You Ever Needed to Know About Raising Bottle Kids*

1. They will chew on, and attempt to eat, everything they can get their grubby little mouths on. This will include, but is not limited to, tissues, plastic gloves, your shoe laces, your clothes, blankets, their own puppy pads, each other's ears, and your hair. Especially your hair. The good news is you will no longer need a trim.
    
2. They will pee everywhere. Despite puppy pads, which they will promptly move about and roll up, the pee will escape their enclosure. Your mother will slip and fall on this pee. It will be funny later, but not at that moment.
    
3. They will also pee in your lap. Then your dad's lap. It will be funny when it isn't happening to you.
    
4. They will use the furniture as launching pads and trampolines. They will also consider your body to be part of the furniture. They will stick their butts in your face so that they can leap from your shoulders to the floor like little flying monkeys.
    
5. When it's time for them to start staying in the barn during the day, they will eventually grow wise to your scheme and be reluctant to follow you down there. Instead they will scatter and attempt to trick you into thinking they should really be going back inside.
    
6. Despite wanting to be indoors where the human-food-givers live, they will not follow you from the barn to the house. They will run under the horses feet just to scare you, and will keep just out of grabbing distance as you try to catch them. They will chew your hair, squirm, and cry when you finally catch them to carry them to the gate. Once at the gate, they will run ahead of you to the porch, suddenly remembering that following the human to the big warm house means it's supper time.
    
7. Occasionally, two will follow you from the barn to the gate, but the third one will remain at the barn. Despite being within hearing and seeing distance, being left will confuse him. He will stand at the barn, look in your direction, and yell until you finally go get him.
    
8. They will jump on the cats and dogs. The cat will think they are wonderful playthings, but the dog will only think they're cute for about a day. Then she will grow tired of their antics.
    
9. They will all hump each other on a regular basis. The bucklings will practice their blubbering, and this will disturb your mother. You, however, will find the sound of a baby trying to blubber hilarious.
    
10. Eventually their voices will get quite loud. They will also learn that kitchen sounds mean milk is coming. This is not a good combination. They will yell until you feed them, and while you are trying to feed them they will fight over the bottles even though there is one for each of them. This will result in milk all over the floor, but don't worry -- your dog will lick it up.
     
11. You will shave their heads to watch for horn bud growth. This will look hilarious, but it will be disappointing when all three grow horns even though their dam was polled and the polled gene is supposed to be passed on about 50% of the time.
     
12. You will have to disbud them. This will be stinky and unpleasant for all involved, even though it's for the best. You will try to film the disbudding process to share with others who want/need to learn, but your camera will not work and you will miss the opportunity.
     
13. You will buy more milk and puppy pads than any normal, non-goat-rearing person would ever possibly need.
     
14. You will break the handle of your favorite basket by trying to fit a now-too-big kid into it to be weighed, to be sure he is growing. Hint: He is growing. The fact that he no longer fit in the basket should have been a clue. Second Hint: Perhaps you also need a scale that is actually made for weighing baby goats.
     
15. Even though they are sometimes a nuisance, interrupt your sleep, cry loudly any time you enter your kitchen, and make an inexplicably large mess for such small little creatures, you will secretly miss them when they are in the barn. Because they also take naps in your lap, try to nurse your nose, and make you laugh with every goofy, adorable thing they do.

I hope you enjoyed this! After my last post, this blog needed some levity! And don't worry, bottle babies aren't really as bad as they sound. They're actually a lot of fun to have around, but it's also nice when they're not quite so needy. Even though I love them, I'll still be sticking to dam raising except when necessary. I prefer being grandma to being mom! 

- Rachel

*Not really.

Coraline's Triplets Pt. 2 - Life and Death

In part 1 of this post, I covered the happy part of Coraline's birth story -- the labor and delivery. If you haven't yet, go read it first before you start part 2.

Coraline and two of her triplets, the doe (left) and second buck (right).

Late Wednesday morning, after I overslept a bit from having such a wacky sleep pattern in the nights leading up to Coraline's kidding, I noticed that Coraline's afterbirth was still hanging. It had been a bit over 24 hours, which is when it's officially considered "retained" (at least based on what I have read). She was standing eating hay, and seemed just a little bit not like herself. I thought at the time that it was just because the rest of her placenta needed to clear out, so I called the vet's and let them know what was going on. A retained afterbirth had happened with one other doe previously, so I wasn't too terribly concerned at this point. The vet gave us a shot of oxytocin to make her body flush the rest of the afterbirth out.

However, after we gave her the oxytocin, I realized something more was wrong. Coraline was not herself. She was shivering a little, hadn't eaten all of her alfalfa pellets, and just seemed..."off." I find myself using that term a lot. Sometimes it's hard to describe to someone else how a goat is when it's not itself, but not showing overt symptoms. I knew something was up, but the best way I could describe it was "off" and a little listless. So we loaded her up and took her to the vet.

Upon arrival, Coraline passed the rest of the afterbirth. The vet did a check on her and found everything pretty much as it should be. Her heart rate was a little elevated, but she thought that was likely due to stress. Her temperature was normal, her rumen was functioning, her udder was warm and pliable. The vet did an ultrasound to be sure there wasn't a retained fetus, and that was all clear. The only obvious symptom was the "off-ness." A little listless, not interested in food, head hanging a bit, not really interested in walking around. Then she passed a bit of foul-smelling uterine fluid, and we all thought we had our answer -- a uterine infection. The vet gave us the option of having lab work drawn or just administering banamine and Nuflor (an antibiotic). We thought that infection was the culprit, and talking to the vet it seemed like the antibiotic and banamine should clear her up, so we declined additional lab work at that time. I had personally suspected hypocalcemia due to the mild shivering and had already given some calcium drench, so I asked about giving another dose later, and the vet said she thought that would be a good idea. Typically hypocalcemia is associated with a low body temp, so it seemed that it could be ruled out at that point, but I did administer the additional calcium later than night anyway.

After that point, there seemed to be ups and downs. She actually ate a bite of her alfalfa pellets as soon as we got her home, and I thought that was a good sign. When I checked her a little later, she was laying down again, and that is when I unknowingly snapped the last picture I would ever take of her. I could tell that she still did not feel good. (If you have goats yourself, you know how unusual it is for them to lay with their head down like this.) However, she had just recently come in from the vet check and I was still hopeful at this point that the Nuflor would kick in and get rid of whatever was making her ill. I almost wish I hadn't snapped this picture, and I actually almost didn't, but the way her little buckling was standing was so precious that I couldn't resist. But I do hate that my last picture of her was one in which she was not herself.

I checked on her again later that night (I believe it was around midnight) and decided at that point to pull the kids and bottle feed them. I had been wrestling with whether or not to do that from the beginning. Half of me knew that mom's milk is always the best food for babies, but the other half of me was concerned that their nursing would tax her body more and either slow her healing process, or, if she was hypocalcemic, would drain her of more calcium. I finally made the decision to pull them because I noticed her walking away from them after only letting them nurse a couple of seconds. Normally does won't do that until they're starting to wean them. I still didn't know if I was making the right decision, but I thought it would be better to be safe than sorry. I realize now in hindsight that her walking away from them was probably the first sign of discomfort in her udder, but I didn't make that connection at first. I now believe that I did make the right decision in pulling the kids.

The next day my dad fed the kids' their breakfast for me and checked Coraline early in the morning. He sent me a text that she was walking around more than she had been and seemed to be improving, so I went ahead and slept a couple more hours, thinking that the medicine was working. Then I got up and fed the kids their next meal while dad went to check her again, but this time she had taken a turn for the worse. He came in and told me she was just standing and shivering again, and then we switched places and I went to check on her. It was obvious that something was very, very wrong and the medicine was not working. She was just laying down and shivering worse than she had been before. Despite antibiotics and Banamine, her condition had declined rather than improved. (I think the brief moments of improvement may have been her feeling a little better because of the Banamine, but not actually improving health wise.) I called the vet immediately to let her know we were going to bring Coraline back in, and the first thing she said was that she had just talked to my dad, who had already called her while I went to the barn. I had just gotten off the phone and was loading Coraline into the kennel when Dad showed up to help me carry her to the car.

I don't know that I have ever seen an animal as sick as Coraline was at this point. In fact, I have seen animals pass away that appeared healthier than Coraline did. It's hard to explain just how frustrated I felt. I was angry that we couldn't figure out what was wrong with her or how to fix it. That was the probably the worst part about the whole thing -- the not knowing. I felt more confused than I have about any of my goat's health in a long time. I have lost goats in the past, dealt with difficult situations, and experienced the typical steep learning curve of goat ownership. But after several years of being a goatherd, a ton of time spent researching and reaching out to mentors, and a few mistakes, I can now usually make at least a somewhat educated guess when a problem arises. With Coraline, though, I just had no clue. It didn't make any sense to me.

Then, at the vet's office, I finally found a concrete clue: she had mastitis. Her udder was bruised, and when I milked the affected side, nothing but clear liquid came out. At first, I thought the mastitis was a new thing caused by me pulling her kids and bottle feeding them -- talk about feeling like even more of a dunce. Then, when the vet said that it had likely been working from the inside all along, I felt a brief moment of relief. Finally! We had the answer! The mastitis, previously invisible to all of us because it was originating from within her udder, was what was making her sick. We knew what was wrong and could finally fix it!

Then the vet said that it was gangrenous mastitis, and my relief faded. I'd never personally seen gangrene mastitis before, but I had seen pictures of it on the internet. I knew it was the kind that caused the udder to slough off. Coraline had freshened with such a beautiful, soft, capacious udder. My only complaint was that her teats were small. I knew that now there was the chance she might lose her udder. But one thing I did not yet know was that gangrene mastitis could also cause sepsis, and that was what was happening to Coraline. Previously I had believed that gangrene mastitis could be fatal because of the necrosis working its way up the body and away from the udder. I didn't know that the infection actually worked from within the body, sending the infection into the blood and damaging other organs before we could even see or feel it on the outside of her udder. 

The vet told us that the best thing we could do was take her to the "goat gurus" at Mississippi State University in Starkville, Mississippi. That three-ish hour drive felt much longer. Every time I heard Coraline move in her crate I would think, "good, at least she's still alive." I still felt better than I had before, because we at least had a plan of action. But in the back of my mind I knew it wasn't good. 

I do want to pause here and say that I am really grateful that timing worked out the way it did. My dad had just gotten his temporary lay off that his company does once or twice each year, so he was able to help me carry Coraline to and from the vet and do early morning checks and kid feeding after I did the late night ones. It would have been even harder of a situation if I hadn't had his help. I can't imagine trying to drive to MSU on my own having never been there. My navigational skills are not the best to begin with, and it was a little tricky to find. I am not very good with directions, so I probably would have gotten lost. I also normally clean houses on Thursday, but as it worked out my friend/cleaning partner was able to do one on her own and the other person sent a text Wednesday night -- before I even knew what I would be doing Thursday -- that something had come up and she didn't need us to come that week. Everything worked out in the best way possible considering the situation. 

When we finally got to MSU, the staff were all extremely helpful and kind. Perhaps because it is a learning environment, they went above and beyond to explain everything. These are the things I learned about septic gangrene mastitis:

• Coraline had most likely contracted the bacteria during her labor. Often the timeline of the infection is about 3 days post-labor, which is about when Coraline started to get ill. The release of oxytocin that occurs when they give birth causes them to "drop" their milk for the babies and open their orifices to allow milk out, which unfortunately can also allow bacteria in. Then the bacteria grows inside the udder at a rapid rate. The vet at MSU said that he had once done a check on a cow one morning and she appeared fine, but the very same cow was down that afternoon from septic mastitis.
• The bacteria can be found in any organic surfaces, from "clean" straw to dirt to our hands. He said that there is no good way to prevent it, simply because the bacteria is everywhere.
• He said that this is a very rare thing, and we will probably never see it again in our lives. I certainly hope he is right about that!
• In addition to the necrotic infection of the udder, the bacteria that causes septic gangrene mastitis also creates toxins that go throughout the body and affect other organs. Coraline's kidneys and liver were already affected, and it sounded like she had a little fluid or damage in her lungs. Her albumin level was very low.
• Because the infection grows so fast and becomes systemic, it is very hard to treat and the odds, he said, were about 50/50. One of the other people there used the word "grave" when referring to her prognosis. The best case scenario was that she would lose part of her udder. Surgery was not an option because of her septic state. 

After giving us all of the information, they quickly wrote up an estimate for us. Then they put her on IV antibiotics and fluids and anti-inflammatory medication. We knew at that time that they were going to keep her for at least 24 hours, but we found out later that they were actually going to keep her at least over the weekend (which was good news, in my opinion, because I knew she would be in good hands and I did not feel capable in the least to treat her at home).

We got back home around 11:30 pm. I knew the odds were not good, but it still felt much better to know that Coraline was in the best possible hands. Our local vet, who is very good but is more of an equine expert, had told us that the people at MSU had much more expertise for treating cases like Coraline's. It was also one of those situations where I could tell the people really cared and wanted to see her get better. Really, if anyone could have saved her, it would have been them. 

The next morning the update was that the IV was helping, but her udder had ruptured (which they expected). They were applying salve to it and had an udder catheter in to drain it. Then the following morning she was still holding her own, but she was not out of the woods yet and still would not eat, though she was drinking. They had taken her on a walk to try to stimulate her appetite. I started to feel a little more hope at this point, just knowing that she was drinking on her own and still able to walk. On Saturday there was a new spot on her udder that they were concerned about, but otherwise she was the same. Then Sunday rolled around. They called with an update that morning that she was still the same. She still was not eating. Then, just an hour or two later, they called to let us know that she was gone.

The whole thing has honestly felt surreal. Part of me still can't believe that Coraline, the first homegrown doeling I ever kept, who had never been sick before in her life, is gone at only four years old and after only kidding one time. Mixed in with the typical sadness and grief associated with death is a profound sense of disappointment. How and why could this rare thing happen to Coraline? She had such a sweet personality. Coraline was always a reserved, quiet doe, and never one to butt her way to the center of attention. Instead, she was the kind who would sneak up quietly while the other goats were distracted and demand scratches or nibble my clothes -- which she is depicted doing in my farm logo picture (featured at the top of this blog and elsewhere). It's just such a shock.

Coraline a week or so before she kidded, wanting some attention.

I typically believe that something can be learned from every bad situation such as this, and that the wisdom gained is one positive thing that comes from the negative. I hate to say, though, that the main thing I learned from this experience is that gangrene mastitis is a horrific illness. 

I don't know how much I can change in the future based on this experience. If the very same thing were to happen again, exactly as it did this time, I still probably would expect it to be something more common like hypocalcemia, ketosis, uterine infection, or even an unborn kid or uterine tear before I would expect septic mastitis. I honestly just don't know how I, or anyone, would be able to diagnose the illness before it showed up physically in the udder. Maybe I could check the quality of the milk sooner, but I don't know that there's any guarantee that it would be abnormal by appearance before the udder itself began to change. Taste wouldn't be of much help, because colostrum (which I have never tasted, for the record) is supposed to have a wonky taste to begin with, so what would that help me? I want to research the topic more, because even after this I honestly feel like there's much about it that I don't know or understand.

I do plan on changing a few things, though. First, as time and money allow, I want to replace the dirt floors of our barn with concrete in the kidding area. This won't remove organic material from our barn completely, because we will still be using bedding of course, but at least I will be able to bleach the floor before the does give birth. There's no good way to disinfect dirt.

Second, I am going to apply a teat dip/udder wash to each doe immediately after she kids. I feel like that would be the best time to do so, because most of the time (though not always) the does lay down to deliver the kids, then stand up to allow them to nurse. I want to catch them right after they stand up and clean their udders then to remove the bacteria they no doubt collected while laying down. It's not a perfect solution, since obviously the does will lay down again, but at least it's something.

And third, if I ever again have a goat that gets very sick, I will take them straight to MSU. Not because our local vet is not good, because she is, but because at MSU they really are small ruminant experts. I don't know that getting Coraline to MSU faster would have changed her outcome, but I also don't find that a very useful question because I can't change the past, so why dwell on "what if's?" But one thing I do know is that MSU is the best place for a sick goat. 

I hope that something in Coraline's story is helpful or useful to you, or maybe just lets you know that you are not alone if you experience something like this. The main reason I chose to share Coraline's story in detail is because there's a chance it might help someone else. There have been so many times that I have known what to do in a situation only because someone else who had been there before was willing to share their experiences, and I feel it's only fair that I pass it on. Plus, it's always nice to know you are not the only one to experience a bad situation. And if Coraline's story helps someone else, that also allows something good to come from her death. 

Rest in peace, Coraline. Tell Clara I said hi.

Left: Coraline and her doeling, Mattie.                    Right: Coraline as a baby with her mother, Clara. 

Coraline's Triplets Pt. 1 - Labor and Delivery

If you follow me on Facebook, you know by now that Coraline passed away four short days after kidding. However, I don't want to talk about that in this post! Instead I have decided to split her kidding story into two separate posts: one for the happy tale and one for the sad. In this post is the story of Coraline's labor and delivery.

In true goat fashion, Coraline waited to kid until the middle of the night. I first noticed the early signs of labor around 9:00 pm Monday January 12th. I sent a text to my dad, "Coraline is in labor. Can you please bring me my kidding bag?" and I parked myself in the pen with her for the next several hours, with the delightful hum of a portable propane heater buzzing in my ear. (Can I just say, bless the person who invented portable heaters that require no electricity!)

You've heard of midwives, but have you heard of a midcat? Muse kept me company while I waited.

Had she not been a first freshener and had it not been so cold, I might have gone inside and come back every hour to check on her. The first stages of labor can last quite some time. But it was so cold, and she was a first freshener, and an older one at that. Being four years old rather than the typical one or two at which most goats kid for the first time, I was more concerned about her having labor complications. I don't know that such concern is founded in reality, but I was concerned nonetheless. I was also worried about the kids getting dry fast enough in our chilly January weather. So, I waited.

The first buckling was the biggest kid.

Around 2:00 am Tuesday, January 13th, I called my friend Katelyn, who wanted to be present at the birth, to let her know things were getting serious. She lives about 15-20 minutes away, and before she even arrived at my barn Coraline had delivered her first kid: a strapping little buckling. He came out with gusto. I'm pretty positive that he was the one who kept kicking and seeming to do cartwheels in the womb. Before Coraline's pregnancy, I had never seen or felt a kid move in the mother's stomach. Maybe I was just not as observant of that in the past, or maybe her kids were extra active, but it was still a pretty awesome experience. A little creepy, but still cool.

Big brother is being an attention hog, but sister is visible to his left.

My dad got to witness the birth of the first buckling, and Katie arrived while he was still wet. I got his mouth suctioned and dried him as quickly as I could. Coraline took to being a mother right away. Occasionally first timers can be kind of clueless, but Coraline knew exactly what she was supposed to do. And in just a few minutes, out came the much awaited doeling! Katie and I had both been hoping and praying for two does from Coraline, because I wanted one to retain myself and Katie is getting a doeling from me in exchange for the training she did for my mare, Lady.

I thought for a moment that Coraline was done after the girl. My "official" guess, which I posted on Facebook, was that she would have twins. However, as she got closer to kidding she seemed to just keep getting bigger and bigger. The day before she went into labor I told my dad that I wouldn't be surprised if she had triplets. In the moment, I was actually a little surprised when I thought she'd only had twins. However, while I was dipping the kids umbilical cords in iodine to prevent navel ill, I heard Katie say, "Uh, Rachel? Did she just have another kid?" Yep, she did! The third kid, another buckling, was quite a bit smaller than the first two. As the runt, he was a little bit slower to stand up and get going than his siblings, but he was on his feet soon. I told Katie, "I foresee a bottle baby in this one. I bet when they're a little bit older the other two will start pushing him off the teat."

Unfortunately, my camera died before I got to take a picture of the second buckling while he was still "fresh."

Everything about Coraline's delivery was absolutely textbook. She was very stoic about the whole thing, and would nibble hay in between contractions. I remember telling her at one point, "Coraline, is now really the time?" when she was munching and I wanted her to hurry it along! But of course, everything happens according to the mother's timing, not the midwife's. I couldn't complain, though, because it's fine with me if a doe wants to take her sweet time just so long as everything goes smoothly, and for Coraline, it did. Each kid presented with a nose and two feet just like they're supposed to. Each kid came out easily with no need for intervention. They were all up and wobbling around quickly, and everyone had their first colostrum within two hours of the birth. As I said, Coraline was being a great mom and was very attentive.

Coraline with her doeling to the left and the little last-born buckling to the right.

Katelyn left for home and I went to bed at exactly 5:15 am, exhausted but very happy that things had gone smoothly and all three kids were tucked in safe with full bellies and a mom who was acting like an old pro. Everything seemed right with the world until Wednesday, January 14th.

To be continued in Part 2.