The Kids' Playground

Watching our seven kids frolic and play, for however long I pause in the course of a day, brings a joyous satisfaction to my soul. As with children, everyone is a friend with whom to be played—no matter their age or species. Fearless Mary often leads the way; indeed, she was the first kid I saw using the Livestock Guardian Luther as a furry goat mountain. (Goats are forever playing king of the mountain. They naturally gravitate to the tallest point available.) Although all of the animals bring me joy, it's the abandon with which the younguns play that makes their antics special.

This morning as I was tossing scratch grain out for the chickens, I looked up into the home pasture and saw the youngest kids hard at play. Their playground of choice included the alpaca moms and crias: cushed, camel-shaped objects well-suited for climbing on, jumping off, racing around, and playing chase over and among. By the time the top photo was taken, Miss Judith had decided that she was no kid's toy and had risen in preparation to leave. Although the other camelids have their ears back, at this point they were still tolerating the little goats' antics.

I know a bit of what they were feeling because Miss Mary has taken to using my back and shoulders for a trampoline anytime I stoop over in the stall where she sleeps. Feeling her jumping onto me, scampering over me, and launching herself off only to turn around and return is entertaining--until she slips a cold, muddy hoof inside my collar and leaves tracks across my neck.

The second photo, taken soon after the first, shows both Goldie Rose and her cria Lili Grayclouds preparing to spit in protest to the kids' attentions. It was too bad for them that a little spit wouldn't phase these youngsters. Now nearly two weeks old Tony, Todd, Ted, and Theresa have the childlike ability of being able to focus on their games while remaining oblivious to any adult discomfort with regard to their behavior.

Eventually three of the alpacas moved on, leaving the older, perhaps more patient Van to entertain the kids. I was sorry that I, too, had to move on--but glad to have had my camera handy to capture a bit of the fun.

Chanted with a slight Boston accent, I imagine the kids playing a goat version of Ring Around the Rosie. "Ring around the alpacas, No pockets full of crackers, Fiber Fiber, Let's jump on 'em again!"

Evelyn's Patience

Poor, poor patient Evelyn.Some days ago I put the goats Hugh, Evelyn, and Number Two into the center paddock attached to the barn so they could room with three alpaca males and be away from a feeder that caught Hugh two days running. (Did I learn the first day when I found him stuck, head wedged into the self-feeder and lodged in place by his little horns? No! I cut him out but did not think to move him. Maybe I thought he would have learned? How ludicrous is that?)

The center paddock is formed by six-foot chain link panels on one side, the barn on one side, and cattle panels on two sides. Because it was created to contain male alpacas beside some winsome female alpacas, the cattle panels are fastened somewhat up off the ground to make the fencing taller. The strategy works for containing alpacas.

Hugh and Number Two are very small fainters, and Evelyn is a Nigerian Dwarf yearling. When Number Two turned up in the pasture with the female alpacas and the goat does with kids by their sides, I was not surprised. She's pretty tiny. Since Hugh still had Evelyn for company, I was not concerned. Then last night I was tending to the animals in the pitch dark (after having been out at a conference ALL day long) and when I put out water for the three male alpacas, I could have sworn that Evelyn was on the same side of the fence as Number Two--and with her head stuck through the cattle panel to reach the alpacas' water.

Now, my vision is not what it was once, so I have good reason to question if what I think I am seeing is what is really before me. After two days of conferencing, I was tired. When I thought I saw Evelyn, I told myself that I was probably just seeing Cocoa, Evelyn's dam who has similar markings--except that Cocoa is brown and white and Evelyn is black and white. The light from the barn corridor didn't filter out to that part of the pasture, so the guess that I was seeing Cocoa was reasonable. After all, Evelyn is a bit large to be slipping under that cattle panel fence; I would have expected Hugh to cross under before Evelyn wedged herself underneath the barrier.

I finished my chores without giving it another thought. And since I would be leaving very early in the morning to return to the conference, I tried to arrange it so the animals would not need me before the next evening. This morning I was running late and did not get out the the barn. I left feeling satisfied that I had tended to all the animals' needs the prior evening.

This evening I got home to another star-studded sky. After changing into barn clothes, I set about shuffling the dogs through their dinner routine, watering all the troughs, seeing to the horses, milking Pamela, and feeding the alpacas and goats. When I trudged through the home pasture bearing a bucket of water for the 'paca boys, I was gratified to find that they had water but distressed to find Miss Evelyn right where I had seen her last night--with her head through the cattle panel into the boys' water.

Oh no! She had to have been there all night and day! I set about working her head back through the cattle panel. She was right to know that she can slip her head through those openings with no trouble, but she failed to take into account that the particular hole she had chosen was narrowed by the presence of the T-post to which the panel was wired. The smaller opening left her well trapped.

I twisted and tugged while she charged forward and resisted my efforts. We wrestled for a good five minutes before I set about releasing the panel from the post. Once the panel was free, Evelyn had plenty of room to back out through the fence--which she did without waiting a moment longer.

I felt awful for having left her trapped there for so long. She trotted off into the night without a backward glance, making a beeline for the hay rack. She was ready for food, the poor dear.

Welcome Theresa!

Again this year our brown-and-white spotted Nigerian Dwarf doe, Cocoa, presented us with a doeling as a fait accompli. What is different this year is that her offspring is solid colored for the most part. The little tan kid has mottled white ears and a couple of specks on her side rather like the spots seen on young deer (although, unlike a deer, I doubt that hers will disappear as she ages).

A singleton from our largest Nigerian Dwarf doe, this little blue-eyed doeling is larger and heavier than the kids Jennifer bore earlier this week. Indeed her size rivals that of the fainter doe Gwen's doeling, Mary, at birth. (This year I have been welcoming kids into the world without subjecting them to being weighed and measured, so all comparisons are subject to my shortcomings as an estimator.) With the arrival of Tony earlier this week, named for our kind and helpful neighbor, there was no question but that this gal would be named Theresa, for our other sweet and generous neighbor.

Little Theresa is solid and large, thanks to her singleton status in the womb. She's energetic, too, like Little Mary (Gwen's whirling dervish born in January). Although she arrived a bit late for our neighbor Theresa's birthday, she and the little buckling Tony made it here just in time for Valentine's Day. And she's smart, very smart, like her mother. This evening as I was settling the Nigerian Dwarf does and their kids into the barn for another night of temperatures in the 20's, the decision of where to settle Cocoa and Theresa was made by the hours-old doeling. When I stepped into the barn, there was Theresa standing directly before the heat lamp, soaking up its warmth and deriving strength from it. Thus, I decided to leave the new family on the open-to-the-pasture side with the female alpacas and the fainter family.

We are gratified to have this lovely little doeling as a part of our herd. She will thrive like Mary has, without giving us cause for concern. Welcome, Theresa!

Jennifer's Bucklings

After a warm night inside the garage, with a heater balanced on the metal shelving directly overhead and a heat lamp's red light bathing a good portion of one side, Jennifer's surviving bucklings seem to be doing well. While they are not yet large or plump, they have a bit of energy--enough to be shy when I loom over their crate.

We've named them. The littlest, the white with brown pinto buckling who appeared crippled yesterday but is standing better today, looked like a Theodore. Then the firstborn, the deer-colored buckling with white on his head and the largest and strongest of the three, was named Tony in honor of our very-helpful neighbor who is always willing to be on call for farm emergencies at a moment's notice. Logically, the second born black-and-white buckling became Todd, named for our friendly and competent realtor in Massachusetts. After all with his blue eyes the buckling could be of Swedish ancestry, and he's devoted to Jennifer, and the white pattern on his head makes me think of Todd's pale hair.

It took only a minute more for the trio to be known as Tony, Todd, and Ted. And if Tony and Todd are named for strong people we know, we'll let Ted be named for Theodore Roosevelt, 26th President of the United States. So Thumbelina had the two WP’s and now Jennifer has brought us the three T’s.

Tony, Todd, and Ted, welcome to our garage. May you grow and thrive, and may you enjoy your days on this farm.

JoJo & LaLa Assaulted

For all I have said about the mean geese on our farm, and JoJo and LaLa can be quite mean, I do not wish them bodily harm. When three of the Great Pyrenees puppies, now close to eight months old, had the opportunity to run as a pack this morning, both JoJo and LaLa became targets of a grand, tail-wagging chase. Working uphill from the scene, all I could see was that the pups were entranced, and uninterested in joining me, or their littermates, or their charges above the gate. Since they are now well contained by fencing and since I heard no chickens squawking in distress, I let them be. Once I heard LaLa cry out, I jogged downhill, chasing the pups away from the bird who was maintaining a posture of rigid stillness in her own self-defense. I found LaLa remaining motionless despite the pup pulling hard on one of her orange goose legs. The pups scattered and allowed me to shepherd them uphill, whereupon they found themselves restricted to the concrete kennel for the afternoon.

On my return to the front pasture area, I determined that only LaLa's pride had been damaged but that JoJo was nowhere to be seen. I set about calling for him, searching through the wooded patch and beyond where I had noticed the puppies romping earlier. The goose turned up down by the creek, looking quite bedraggled. Someone had obviously been tugging on his left wing, which for the most part was hanging sloppily beside the usually well-kept goose. I could see a bit of blood on his back where the skin was exposed by his drooping wing, but he still felt quite well enough to evade my attempts to catch him for an examination. Finally I simply herded him into the front area sectioned off with round pen panels where Millie and Stella had been recently corralled. I left the gate ajar so that LaLa might join him with ease, and told JoJo that he would be safe from further harassment in this enclosure.

Time would reveal how critical his injuries might be--they were not critical as it turned out. In the interim, I felt totally deflated for having allowed the assault to take place. Generally the pups chase the chickens but don't lay a tooth or a paw on the animals, but now that one has tasted a bit of goose I will have to remain vigilant in the birds' defense in the future.

Mary in Motion

Little Miss Mary appears to be a whirling dervish poorly disguised as a goat kid. When I stopped inside a stall this afternoon to leave some hay, Mary rushed in from the pasture and impressed me with her display of perpetual motion--only a small portion of which was I able to record.  Here's a taste:

"Hello there, Walter. Can you tell me who's the boss?"

"I'll just hop up here on my momma for a moment."

"Here we go. Up, ..."

"... Around, and ... "

"... Down! Whee!"

"Yes Walter, you may kiss the up-and-coming queen!"

Gwen, Mary's dam, is our undisputed herd queen at the moment; however, I predict that her kid will be challenging that throne in the not-too-distant future! Stay tuned...