It's a girl!

Peach did it.  She had a girl today.  A single, gigantic doeling.  I was certain there were twins in there.

Look at that cute face!

I started to get suspicious that today would be the big day when Peach kept wandering off by herself yesterday, going out into the pasture to graze.  Alone.  A herd animal.  Every time I turned around she was gone.  And I turned around a lot, since I had the day off and was working on outside projects all day and into the evening.

By this morning, her ligaments were very soft, barely detectable. By early afternoon, she was restless, calling to no one in particular, and becoming unusually clingy to both me and her mother.  At one point, I found her lying on her mother's legs.  This picture was taken when she got up.  She stood in this position for a long, long time.

What was she trying to tell me?

She was making me nervous, so into the kidding stall she went.  Almost every time I looked over the wall to check on her, this is what I saw:

Peach, what are you saying???  What do you need?

I saw little contractions on occasion, and after an hour went by and nothing significant seemed to happen, I called the very patient Kate Helms.  She listened to my detailed description and told me it was likely Braxton Hicks, and the babies were moving into position to be born.  She told me to relax, keep an eye on her, but that there might not be babies for a few more hours.

It took superhuman effort not to call her every five minutes throughout the afternoon.  I got an amazing amount of work done outside, particularly near the barn.  My backyard make-over is really shaping up nicely.

Finally, when I decided to milk Plum and Ginger, Peach started really grunting and vocalizing on the other side of the wall.  I never knew I could milk so fast.  I threw the milk into the fridge unfiltered and ran back to the barn to see.....goo.  Pale amber-colored goo.  I finally called Kate.

Apparently translucent amber goo is amniotic fluid, and opaque whitish goo is not.  With amber goo, the kid whose sack ruptured has about 30 minutes to get out of mom.  I'd lost a few minutes milking, so we had about 20 minutes to work with.

Nothing.  Just goo.

I had to get the hubster so he could restrain her while I....er.....washed and lubricated my arm to the elbow and went in to "see" what I could "see."

Twins, both coming at once and STUCK.  Shaking, I called Kate.  As I dialed, my husband said, "Take a breath."  

She was very calm and clear in her instructions, having me find the most forward head and follow it back to figure out which legs belonged to that head.  I got a little bite from a big baby in the process....it encouraged me that it was alive.

That big tangle suddenly became clear, as if someone just turned the lights on in my brain.  150 watts.  It was one kid, but a HUGE one.  Stuck.  Poor Peach.

With some guidance from Kate, I helped that big doeling into the world.  Kate said I had 30 minutes before I needed to worry about the next one.  I decided to get this doeling all dried off before exploring again.

Yay!  She has ears!

I bounced Peach (Kate taught me this a few days ago with Ginger) to see if there were more kids in there.  I couldn't feel anything, but since it was only the second time I'd ever bounced a doe, I explored one more time and found no twin. 

Look at the size of this girl!

Mom!  Enough already!

After getting plenty of colostrum into her via the bottle, I put her jammies on and put her in with her brothers.  There was a little hollering, but not too bad.  She found the heat lamp right away, and they didn't push her out.  I suspect they are just the right age to be together and get along well.

Peach's tartlet in her pj's.

As I went back to the house, I suddenly noticed how beautiful the yard was looking.  Now that no one here is pregnant, I can relax and enjoy the babies and the beauty around me.

Bleeding Hearts in my shade garden.

How we got our name.  Violets are everywhere, and we sometimes see them in December.

Time to feed the babies.....again!

Sweet baby goats

The twins were four days old yesterday.  They are already visibly larger and sturdier, starting to really focus on the world around them.
 

Ahhh....that hits the spot!

Unless it is bottle time.  Then they are hyper-focused.  This is all they think about when anyone enters the stall.  Listen to their cute little noises here, as they look for the udder....er....bottle.

Udders are near legs.  Where is the udder???

Once they get the bottle, it is a race to see who finishes first.  I love their little noises and squeaks at this age.

 Ahhh!  Satisfaction!

After having breakfast, one needs to tinkle.

Ahhh!  Satisfaction!  Again!

Ginger will no longer nurse these little guys, but she is still rather curious about them.

Ginger keeps a watchful eye on the goings-on in the hoophouse.

What is a hoophouse?  Also known as a chicken tractor, it is a moveable pen used to keep chickens safe from predators...in our case, hawks....while still allowing them to be on pasture.  The pen can be moved every day or two to a fresh, clean patch of grass.  My chicks will be moving into it next week.  Meanwhile, it makes a handy playpen for the baby goats until they are bigger than snack-size to the huge hawks and eagles.  They need to be bigger than a chicken...which our local birds of prey will kill on occasion...before they can go into the kid pasture unattended.  Meanwhile, I only put them outside when I can be nearby or right with them.  I was working outside for most of the day yesterday, so the hoophouse was a great place to keep the twins for a few hours.

Buckling Tractor.

The boys alternated between napping and hopping.  No pics of napping.  They hopped whenever they saw me approach. 

Nobody here but us chickens!

Aren't they precious?

A still picture doesn't do them justice.  See them tentatively trying out their hopping legs on youtube.

Goats make surprisingly wonderful pets...who will also clear brush with amazing efficiency and possibly even provide milk for your family.  I love my goats....even when they are naughty.   More on naughty goats coming up...

Backyard make-over

Last week I got sick, too sick to work on any projects.  I hate being still, even when sick.  So I chose a task that only required wandering slowly and a lot of sitting.  I planned my backyard make-over.

The Big Plan.

I dug out a map of our septic system first, and made a copy that I could write on.  Then I grabbed my trusty 100' tape measure and marked all the important features in my yard with stakes and the hose.  I added a couple of feet in each direction just in case my measurements were off.

I marked the existing apple and pear trees, and the perennial flower garden.  Next came the re-do.

I want to make our yard more productive, but still dog-friendly and with plenty of open space for cook-outs.  First came the clothesline, and this project is completed.  Next, berry bushes.  Lots of berry bushes.  We love our chevre with berries, and a few berries from the back yard could really cut down on this expense...and give us organic berries picked at the peak of ripeness.  

I found room for 8 gooseberries, 6 currants, a small grape arbor for the two vines I already have but have neglected, and a row of raspberries.

I marked the spot for each bush with a pail.

The gooseberries and currant plants are ordered and on their way, so getting the holes dug is a priority.  I marked them off and took the sod off so the hubster can dig great big holes this weekend.  The sod was set aside to feed to the growing chicks.

Nothing is wasted....nothing!

Each hole will be filled with finished compost.  The sandy soil that is removed will be used to make up the raised hugelculture bed I'm making for the raspberries....more on this later.  I also plan on putting a chunk of firewood into each berry bush hole, in the spirit of hugelculture.

Every job requires a supervisor.  Biscuit always volunteers.

This re-do is a big job, so it will be broken up into smaller tasks and these will be wedged in between the hectic spring animal and gardening frenzy that is part of every homestead.

Moving the chicks outdoors

Chicks in the basement are adorable and I can sit for hours it seems, just watching their fluffy, peeping cuteness.  This lasts for oh, maybe a week.  Then a fine dust begins to settle on my washer and dryer.

By week three everything is coated with a thick layer of dark, dirty dust.  I can't do laundry without wiping down the outside of the machines with each and every load.  I start cussing the chicks openly.

They can't go out into the cold cruel world until they are fully feathered and have a way to insulate themselves from the cold.  Until then, they either need their mother, or in this case, the heat lamp.

A cardboard box provides a draft-free place to sleep under the heat lamp.

But I was losing my already-tenuous hold on my sanity, so out they went, barely four weeks old.  I am not completely heartless, however, and their heat lamp went with them.  They will live in this box another 2 weeks or so, when they will move into the moveable hoop house.

Those roosts look impossibly high today....but will be loaded with chicks in a few more days.

The side walls open up on nice days, and there is plenty of room for all forty chicks.  They can get under the lamp when needed, and get away from if the daytime temperatures soar while I'm at work.

This plywood box, 4x4x8 feet, was my very first coop and has since served as a brooder (place to grow chicks), a house for broody hens with their chicks, and a house for my goat buck when he was not in with the girls.  The last buck, Dorian, started dismantling this box a chunk at a time, so now it is patched and on its last legs....but it will serve its purpose for at least this season.

The chicks are at that scruffy stage, loosing their baby fluff and replacing it with feathers.  They are in their most awkward adolescent stage and looking pretty tattered from their move, just moments before these pictures were taken.  Please excuse their uncombed (snicker) appearance.

Teensy Icelandic chick sitting on the brick.

They are now big enough to start the switch from a standard...and rather difficult to deal with....chicken waterer to a bucket.  I use a 2 gallon pail to give water to my flock, but that is too deep for small ones that would drown if they ended up in the water.  For now, I use this small rubber feed pan and place a brick in it.  If someone ends up in the water, he can quickly climb up onto the brick and get to safety.  As soon as all the chicks are easily able to get out of the water, I'll remove the brick and just use the short pan.

They are no longer getting their soy-free chick starter mix.  They have been switched over to sprouted whole grains and catfood, with a good-sized hunk of grassy sod each day, complete with worms and grubs.  

See the hunk of sod?  They stripped the grass off within an hour and ate it.  Now they are working at scratching up all the roots and dirt, looking for grubs and worms.   It will be gone by morning.

Eating catfood that I soaked in raw goat's milk.

Since this started as  the Icelandic Project,  here is a close-up of a couple of Icelandic chicks.  I love their speckled feather patterns.

It is so interesting to see how their feathers look as they mature.  We have a pretty good idea as to what these chicks will look like as full-grown chickens already, although we are waiting on head and breast feathers on most of them, and combs are yet to develop, although I saw a teensy one today on one of the Icelandics.  The roosters will get more colorful as they become sexually mature, with their beautiful sickle feathers (the classic curved tail feathers of the rooster) and saddle feathers (long, luxurious skinny feathers just before the tail, also typical of roosters.)

And I'm still waiting to see which are the two chicks that hatched from our own flock, from a Light Brahma rooster and a variety of hens.  And the one Maran egg that hatched.  I'm not sure which is which, but one of the mostly black chicks is feather footed.

Over the next few months, we'll also be playing the guessing game as to which are hens and which are roosters....actually, pullets and cockerels, as young chickens are called.

All this staring at poultry has a name here....chicken therapy.  Used in a sentence:  I'm going outside to get some chicken therapy.  Or....Hey, honey, what were you doing out there?  Oh, I was just getting some chicken therapy.  It is rather relaxing.  As long as they are not creating dust in your cellar.

Ginger's twins

Over-sized buckling #1

Ginger needed help.  Lots of help.  Yes, she tested my devotion and was not disappointed.  I love my Ginger-Pie.

She "lost her ligaments" late last night, meaning they got all soft and hard to palpate.  I cleaned and bedded the kidding stall and locked her in for the night amidst many complaints from both sides of the door.  Ginger and her daughter Peach are inseparable and always sleep together.  Not last night, and not tonight, either.  Ginger needs a break from Plum, who tends to pick on her, sneaking up and bashing her from behind.  Ginger is slow and clumsy and Plum is quick and agile.  Ginger needs a couple of nights of peace and rest.

Ginger was still no closer to delivering when I got up this morning, so I let her out with the girls and watched her all morning as I hung six loads of laundry.  I nervously left her under the hubster's care and took my sister to the gem show to shop for beads for making jewelry....we all need some sparkly stuff now and then.  I raced back to see Ginger give one tiny contraction.  I cancelled my appointments for the day.

 Ginger having a contraction.

Working the jaw and yawning with early contractions.

Uncomfortable!

She took so long, she started looking for her babies.  Video of this here.

It took an hour for the first big, serious contraction.  Then a few more, then nothing.  After about 45 minutes I was getting nervous, so I called Kate Helms.  Kate is a goat breeder extraordinaire who helped me last year via telephone to save Peach and her triplets by talking me through untangling them.  It was rather traumatic, I must say, but I was thrilled to have saved all four goats and am so grateful to Kate for her generosity and for being completely unflappable in the face of my panic and lack of experience.  She had answered my online plea for help when I'd posted my phone number on a forum.  I've never met her in person.  This amazes me.

She gave me some guidance, and within a few minutes, Ginger delivered the first huge buckling.  He was just too big for her to manage on her own, and there was a lot of yelling, pushing, and pulling.  He was just HUGE.  She'd never have gotten him out.  Sheesh.  

Ginger is a very large goat.  Look at the size of this boy!

Watch her clean him in this short video.

After another half hour, I called Kate again.  Ginger was grinding her teeth, a sign of pain, but there were no contractions.  By this time my folks had arrived to see NatGeo in my backyard.  Dad was raised on a farm, and makes a great extra set of hands.  He restrained Ginger while I explored.....and sure enough, the second buckling was positioned in an impossible position.  He was breach (backwards) but with his hind legs forward.  The babies need to be in a superman dive position, whether they come out backwards or forwards.  He was backwards, tail first, hind legs forward, and was essentially a big cork, plugging his entrance into the world.

The smaller twin finally makes his appearance....

Yes, another video!

This was the third time (or was it fourth?  I somehow blocked what happened with Peach last year.  Strange.) I'd encountered this position, and I was able to reposition this baby in seconds, and helped him into the world.  He was smaller than his slightly older sibling, but still a big boy.

 Can you believe these guys were just inside poor Ginger???

After bottle feeding both boys about 5-6 ounces of Ginger's colostrum, milked straight into the baby bottles, I put them in the kid's stall.  Yes, I separate them from their mother right away.  Yes, this is stressful for all concerned, even me.  But it is better in the long run.  It is far easier to get them to drink from a bottle before they've ever experienced the udder.  When they go to their new homes, their new owners can continue bottle feeding them and bond with them.  The stress of moving won't be compounded with the stress of weaning.   Raised by humans, they will make fantastic pets.  A little heartache now for a day or two can really make a difference in the long run.  Sigh.  I keep telling myself that when I hear Ginger calling for them.  She'll stop soon enough, and I will become her baby, as I milk her twice a day.  She will turn her affection to me.

First boy, all dry and fluffy.

Second boy.  Look at those ears!

In his pj's for the night!

Solar clothes dryer revisited

 Here is the installed and fully operational clothesline.  I found the set discarded in my woods.  The supports rusted away years ago, but the well-made galvanized metal posts were intact and have years of life left in them.  We chose to simply set them into holes filled with cement.

 This galvanized T shaped clothesline set will last for many more years.

The lines will need to be re-knotted as they stretch under the weight of wet cloth.  Flannel sheets are heavy!  I was able to place the lines where they will get lots of sun and most of the prevailing winds.  My laundry will be dry in no time flat!

Belly watch, continued

Yesterday was Ginger's official due date, 150 days from her date with Dorian.

Ginger at day 150.

This is when the girls love to really torture us.  Of course, I had most of today and yesterday off, but does Ginger care?  Does she squirt out those babies when I have plenty of time to devote to fanning her and feeding her peeled grapes?  Does she appreciate the significance of a calendar and a schedule?

Nope.  Instead, like any doe worth her salt, she will test my devotion by choosing a day when I am scheduled top to bottom with important appointments.  Appointments that pay the mortgage and put grain in her feed tub and hay in her hay rack.  She will test my devotion and she will not be disappointed.  I will drop everything and run to her side to make sure she is safe and that her babies arrive healthy and strong and are quickly filled with colostrum, that vital first thick, yellow milk that is critical to their survival.  And that she is fanned and fed peeled grapes and that I hold her hand.....er.....hoofy.  Good thing she doesn't demand caviar....

Besides the calendar, I watch her udder development and her ligaments.  Her udder is certainly getting larger, but it is not tight yet...it will get much tighter on the big day, if she follows the pattern she's created with her previous two pregnancies.  Which is to torture me by being several days late.

The expanding bellies are hard to miss.  Here they are just three and a half weeks ago, and here they are today:

Ginger today....I can no longer say babies on the right, rumen on the left...those babies are displacing her rumen now for sure!  (The top of this photo is Ginger's right side.)  Triplets?  Twins?

Peach.  Babies on the bottom of the photo, rumen on the top.  She is due in six days, officially.  I'm gonna say twins....what do you think?

I had to throw in this photo, which would normally be discarded, to show you the challenges of photographing nosy goats.  It is very hard to get a clear picture of anything without a snuffling nose in the lens.  Peach's nose, Ginger's belly.

Peach still runs like a deer and spars with her sister, Plum, but Ginger is now moving rather slowly and methodically, and taking frequent naps.  It is shedding season, and she itches.  Poor gal needs help, which I gladly supply.  She can't reach past that huge baby bump.

Spring is so exciting.  So much to do, so much new life.  Soon, baby goats....I can hardly wait!