Denise Down

Yesterday I went to let the goat girls out of their overnight enclosures in the late morning. Most poured out past me and vanished quickly into the woods, but one fainter doe was down. Thinking that I might actually be catching a photo of a fainted fainter I whipped out the camera, only to realize as I was snapping the shutter that her legs weren't rigidly stiff like that of one in a faint and, besides, she wasn't moving. Concerned, I entered the enclosure located beneath the refrigerator trailer we got for hay storage.

I knew to duck to keep my hair out of the thick grease where the tractor and trailer were once joined. Although I had had that spot covered with plastic at one time, the goats have long since pulled it down. Since I seem to be the only one at risk for getting greased, replacing the covering has not been a priority.

The bedding benbeath the trailer was dirty and ready to be renewed. There I found Denise stretched out flat on her side; with her vulva swollen, slick, and open; and lying very still. Since she is one of those goats who always seems to be nervous around me, that she stayed still indicated the severity of her condition. She was lying flat on her left side and her abdomen was distended. While a goat's rumen is located on their left side, when it's distended the right side mustbulge if the left side is flat to the ground.

While I was assessing the situation, two phone calls interrupted. This was good because one resulted in our neighbor Tony coming over to help. He grew up in farm country and worked on farms in his youth, so having the wisdom of his experience can be a very calming and reassuring influence indeed. (Although my conversation had been with Theresa, when she reminded me that she would be of no help if the goat was dying and I recall my saying quite emphatically that she, then, should not come over.)  A call to the veterinarian's office determined that the medical staff had just left for lunch (the office closes 12:00 - 1:30 on Fridays), but then Tony appeared to offer advice and support. Together we were able to spread a sheet of insulation over the ground and under the doe.

With a cleaner surface on which to crawl around, Tony sat with me under the trailer for the better part of an hour. Donning gloves, I performed my first pelvic exam. Although I did not expect that she was pregnant, or at least anywhere near delivery, the swollen vulva concerned me; however, I felt no being inside her womb, just the rest of her organs pressing against my fingers from outside the uterine cavity. Together we were able to get Denise to take baking soda and then water; the baking soda was to aid digestion.  She evacuated and burped; we were encouraged. We tried turning her so that her left side (where the rumen is located) would be up, but she squalled as if in pain and we let her up then allowed her to settle back upon her left side.

Eventually Tony had to leave. I went to the house to fetch a notebook in which to make notes about Denise's condition and progress, then came back to sit with her. After 1:30 I started calling Dr. Kinslow's office but didn't get through until nearly 2:00. I knew that Doc Kinslow would understand when I explained that this goat was not worth the price of a veterinary visit, and that I just wanted some advice over the phone. He is very practical and understands the economics of farming. I appreciate that quality.

He told me to turn her so that her left side was up, to situate her hindquarters uphill, and to "sit her up so that she can belch." I had been on the right track giving her baking soda and water, but he said to dissolve the soda in a bit of warm water and to add a bit of whiskey. Worried that she would not accept this concoction and that I would need to drench her with it, I tried to ask about which side of the throat to aim for--as one side is the windpipe leading into the lungs.

His response was explosive, and while I cannot claim that it's an exact quote, this certainly captures the flavor and gist of his message: "Aw hell, she's going to die anyway! Don't be stupid about it! Don't pour it in like you was tryin' to drown her. Be polite about it!" I was told to pour the liquid into her gently, holding her head at a 45 degree angle, then rub her midsection to encourage her to burp.

Have I mentioned how much I like Doc Kinslow?

By 3:00 p.m. Denise was standing up, alert, calling to her goat gal friends. When I left her she was listing a bit to one side, leaning against the chain link for support, but did not seem to be concerned with any pain.

Today I gave her the last of the whiskey mixture and kept her in again. I was heartened to hear her calling out to her gal pals on occasion. She was interested in their movements, and elicited a visit from Isabel when fresh hay was delivered. I don't think she's going to be dying today.