Kid Clothing

Pamela inspects her kids.

The thermometer registered 25 degrees Fahrenheit when I headed out this morning. Although our new-mother goat Pamela had been keeping her kids beneath the heat lamp since birth, I still brought out a couple of quilted flannel shirt-sleeves in case the kids were shivering. (Yes, I know, she had three kids, but I had two sleeves ready from when the orphaned Savannah doelings had moved here; I would procure a third coat if necessary.)

The kids were clustered directly beneath the heat lamp, as I had hoped, yet the littlest kid--the one we named Emmilye--was shivering. I popped her into the shorter of the two shirt-sleeves, adjusted the width to accommodate the breadth of her little shoulders, cut vents to make flaps over her flanks and tail, and fastened the button at her throat to keep the tube in place. The stall smelled of diarrhea, a condition not all that uncommon in the first days but one that needs to be monitored and for which counter-measures may need to be taken. I gave each kid a squirt of  goat Nutri-drench, and gave Emmilye three.

Momma goat stands by her snoozing kids.

Next I herded Pamela, who had gone out to the pasture for a drink, back to the stall for her kids. She nosed suspiciously at the newly-clothed Emmilye, but accepted her readily. Still shivering, Emmilye made her way to a teat but grabbed for it ineffectively. After watching her unsuccessful attempts for a bit, I intervened and was rewarded by improved performance once the kid had gotten a fresh taste of milk.

Since I had another sleeve handy, I woke the other doeling, Erin, and dressed her. She is smaller than the buckling, but heartier than the littlest doeling. With a couple of snips at the fabric and a neat button at the kid's neck, I was able to present Pamela with two kids insulated against the cold. Erin nursed briefly, then returned to the kid-pile beneath the lamp. (Note: The lamp is turned off for photographic purposes only, to inhibit the red glare in pictures.)

A broody hen atop her clutch of eggs.

Before I left the stall, a hen came in to claim her spot on the nest she had made in the corner feed tub. At first she flapped her way up to a way-station and stood there to cackle until her rooster--just outside--returned the call. Then she flew onto the feed tub and settled down, right at home in her stall with a new family of goat companions beneath her roost.