Time to Move the Boys

Buckling Loyal meets his daddy--and wants out!

For all of our efforts to keep the male and female goats separated, I was allowing the last of the spring kids to run with the herd for these last few months. Today, though, the newest bucklings demonstrated mounting behavior. Their reward was eviction from the herd, into a pen with all of the 2010 smaller bucks.

Segregated at last, all the bucklings are contained.

Nigerian Dwarf bucklings Graham, Walter, and the late Will matured faster and have been segregated in buck territory since the summer months; however, Jennifer's first 2010 kids--Tony, Todd, and Ted--and the last of the Tennessee Fainter bucklings--Jack and Gene--were allowed to stay with their dams, until today.

Luke looks wistfully back toward the barn and the nurturing life he has left.

This afternoon when I checked into the maternity stall and opened its door to the unseasonably warm air, the newest bucklings--Loyal and Luke--their stubby horns finally showing above their coats were mounting little Kendall. Kendall, the runt, is small enough that they do not mount her as much as simply stand above her; the other kids grew that much while she was recuperating in the house last week. As such, the bucklings were evicted and I spent the afternoon rounding up the rest of the boys (mentioned above) and depositing them beneath the hay storage trailer.

Keet on the Lam

A female keet checks out her new digs. The dizzying array of fencing contains her.

Despite my sloppy efforts to surround the new keet enclosure with fencing and such to tighten the openings, the top was not fully enclosed by the time I placed the dog crate and its keets into the trailer t'other day. As such, I was not too surprised to find that one of the keets had found its way out into the wider world. He seemed happy to explore the sunshine and snow, so I watched for a few minutes. His vocalizations revealed his sex--male--which makes him less of a catch than if he were female. After all, we have the Guinea cock, Lawrence, who I imagine will take on this brood when they come of size to wander.

Adolescent keet on the lam.

Although I gave chase for a few minutes, the bird eluded my net and ventured next door, so he's now on his own. He may come back to his flock, but he will have to survive our dogs to join them. As he was scuttling across the driveway to Theresa's, Mr. Luther loped up to check out the unfamiliar bird. The big doggie looked mighty interested in the feathered tasty tidbit.

Strange, I can trust him around the chickens and Lawrence. I wonder what it is that "tells" the dogs which birds are fair game. (My yelling does not seem to do it--especially not where the still-puppy Biscuit is concerned.)

We're pleased to hear the young keets vocalizing with adult patterns because the "Buck-wheat, buck-wheat" calls reveal the presence of female birds. All Guineas are valuable come tick season, for they are notorious bug foragers, but females have the potential to reproduce without engaging in cock fights should Lawrence decide to challenge them.

Back to the Barn

Luke leaps onto the kid-cave with ease; Kendall struggles to clamber up.

Just in case the Nigerian Dwarf runt kid Kendall was targeted by the adult goats in the barn last week, when she moved back out to the barn yesterday we added a plastic kid-cave into which she might escape if the adult does thought to bully her. Practically as soon as I had set the trashcan down on its side, Kendall vanished. Since I had put a grain bag into the container to serve as a rug, and some hay for bedding, I could not immediately locate the gal--even with her bright hoodie.

Buckling Luke promptly butts away the competition.

In short order, though, she came out to play with the other kids. Although Kendall survived her ordeal of the past week, she's been mending while the other kids have been growing. It took her considerable effort to surmount the horizontal trashcan. Her reward for said efforts? Playtime! Doe Thumbelina's kid, Luke, "welcomed" Kendall with the standard goat greeting and challenge: a solid head-butt, packed with youthful energy. And down went Kendall.

Molly & Luther watch the keets' new home get situated.

The stall is getting crowded now, so those keets will be moving out soon. I just need to fashion an enclosure that will contain them safely. The chain-link dog run beside the fattening roosters would be ideal except that it's so very open to the elements and not conveniently close to an electrical outlet should we want to add a heat lamp. This afternoon I towed the little metal trailer over close to the deck; at least its tall sides will cut the wind's force. Tomorrow I'll see about "tightening up" the larger openings in the wire side panels.

Chihuahua Cures!

Feeling much better, Kendall meets Marcie. Goat life is good.

Today when I went out to work, Kendall was fairly alert so she earned herself a play-date with Lexie the chihuahua next door. In the few hours she spent next door, Kendall went from quiet little goat to healthy, bouncing kid. In Lexie's company, Kendall was reported to regularly drink water and freely eat grain from the bowl provided. When she arrived home again, Kendall was a noisy, bouncy kid--one we had not seen for far too long.

So I brought her up to the barn at feeding time and introduced her to Marcie. The little goat who had refused to drink from a bottle, and who had been being fed via a stomach tube for some days, immediately took a liking to our big milk goat, Marcie. Clearly Lexie had been "good medicine" for our little kid.

Kendall is spending this cold night in the house again, but we hope she will be returning to barn life for good come morning. This runty kid who was all but dead a week ago has bounced back delightfully.

Credit goes to Dr. Whitlow who prescribed Naxcel on Thursday to combat pneumonia, but credit for the liveliness goes to Miss Lexie and her people--Theresa and Tony. Thanks, neighbors. You're the best!

Kendall is Saved!

Little Kendall poses beneath the sink on her day off the farm.

Yesterday Kendall's partially-planned play-date next door was canceled when we rose to find her faring less well than expected. Instead she was packed into the car and ferried to church. 'Twas a quiet day at Metropolitan and the little goat mending in the ladies' room was well out of the way.

When we arrived mid-morning, she was energetic enough to wander into a corner, where she promptly fell asleep. Every hour or so I would look in on her and I was thrilled when at one check I found she had drunk half the water left out in a bowl. When little kids are unwell, the smallest indications of progress can be cause for celebration.

At around 3:00 p.m. she seemed more alert, so I set her out in the hall to see what she would do. I was heartened to see her take an interest in her surroundings--she stood for many minutes by the front door, studying the noisy starlings in the trees along the road. Then, about fifteen minutes later, I finally heard her cry out--a hearty little goat bleat--I was elated.

After that she became energized. Every so often her frantic bleating would call me out of the office and I found her roaming about the entryway, through the sanctuary, and into the kitchen. Indeed, after just a few hours of rest in the church, little Kendall's health seemed restored. By the time we left for home, she was practically a normal little goat again, albeit one wearing a diaper and newborn-size hoodie.

A Close Call for Kendall

Nigerian Dwarf kid Kendall, bundled into the vet supply basket indoors.

Yesterday evening I got up to the barn later than usual. Most of the animals had settled in for the night, but the maternity suite was still rocking: those kids sure are feisty. When I entered the maternity stall, I noticed that Kendall was flat out on her side beneath the heat lamp, not moving. She was breathing only shallowly. Her head was turned back in a reverse "C" posture such that her nose pointed over her spine towards her tail; the posture is not uncommon in dying ruminants, but I was not ready to accept the loss of this doeling.


I don't know if I should take the blame for this one, but here's what I'm thinking. In the morning, after I had wrestled Nigerian Dwarf doe Jennifer to allow Kendall to nurse, Kendall still did not appear full, so I took advantage of Thumbelina's having only one kid remaining and put Kendall on her. Well, Thumbelina was quite unhappy about the arrangement, and I'm thinking that she may just have taken out her wrath on the kid later in the day. I do not know if goats seek revenge, though. It could have been simply the combination of the cold weather, spotty diet, and Kendall's diminutive size that got the kid down.

A sated Kendall rests in her box below the heat lamp after a tube-feeding.

Whatever it was that got her down, Kendall revived when I picked her up--enough to squall for her momma as I carted her away from the barn. Inside, the time the tendency to throw her head back and point towards her tail gradually lessened. Her body was cold, though, and her hoofs downright chilly to the touch. I thought that continued contact with a human's bodily warmth would serve her well. An elastic band was procured to serve as a sanitary belt and a pad inserted beneath it at her tummy and her back, effectively diapering the kid for indoor living. (In recent years I've seen pet diapers in pet-supply catalogs and thought I should give it a try.)

She wouldn't suckle, so I inserted a tube to her stomach and forced two ounces of warm Marcie-milk into her body. This followed by a vitamin B complex injection and warmth were the extent of my medical interventions. If she made it to the morning, I would call the vet for further guidance.

Kendall, sun-worshiping kid in a box.

I cuddled her beside me through the night, and woke to a kid with mucous-filled eyes and nostrils. Dr. Whitlow prescribed a tiny dose of the antibiotic Naxcel which his office staff dispensed in seven diminutive syringes. By mid-afternoon she could stand and look about, but her little body wobbled quite a bit, and when she took any steps they were unsteady.

Little Kendall looks out from her chosen corner.

Late in the afternoon, when I was headed to the barn for evening feedings, I placed Kendall in a four-sided box to contain her, bundled her into a Newborn size hooded jacket (pinned to shrink it to her size), and left her beneath the heat lamp. We were quite pleased when, upon my return, we found she had climbed out of that box, escaped the direct heat, and curled herself into a shaded corner behind the toilet paper storage tube. We were pleased to see her taking some initiative, although she still required tube feeding and did not speak.


The next day or so will be critical. Come on, Kendall, hang in there. We're pulling for you!

MollyToo is renamed: MollyMoo

Got milk? MollyMoo sports a milk mustache after feeding.

The Nigerian Dwarf goat Jennifer's middle kid, from this litter of triplets, was doing just fine with the name MollyToo, until I took the time to watch her in action. Since her little sister, Kendall, gets knocked away from the nursing bar by her bigger sisters, I've taken to pulling one or another of the sisters back for some playtime so that Kendall and the other sister can dine undisturbed. Such intervention does not occur frequently, but even with my butting in once or twice a day I've noticed the bigger kids have taken to their playtime with me--once they're suitably distracted from the milk bar.

Today Miss MollyToo was in a fine feeding frenzy. Grunting and gurgling, her little tail wagging, she fed with gusto. Then, when she stepped back, she had a prominent milk mustache; it was very cute, I thought. Thereupon, she became MollyMoo. She's Gateway-cow-colored and feeds as heartily as any calf. The name fits. Welcome to our herd, little Miss MollyMoo!

Given opportunity, 8-month-old Graham proves that old habits die hard.

Kids Venture Outside

Logan and MollyToo play outside their stall.

After all the cold temperatures we have had, yesterday warmed up significantly. The ground turned sloppy with mud and I needed to find the muck boots that had been put away some months back. When I pulled back the outer door on the maternity stall, the few-inch opening for fresh air vanished and the kids saw the home pasture--and wanted to check it out. The little doelings were eager to get out to see their expanded world, but the build-up of straw and hay bedding in that stall made returning indoors a challenge.

At first I just wedged a piece of wood against the cattle panel barrier, propping it at the bottom with a loose rock, and hoped that the kids could use this ramp to easily get back into their stall. Of course, bouncing kids quickly rocked it out of place. Silly me; what had I been thinking?

My carpentry skills being all but nonexistent, I used my favorite farm remedy: baling twine. A notch at the head of the board, made with a pair of ever-present hoof nippers, helped to wedge the board into a set position. Little angle nicks on the side of the board provided just enough of a catch that the twine worked to hold the little goats' new ramp in place. A temporary fix, to be sure, but that was all that the situation required--so I was satisfied.

Logan plays on ramp while Cocoa and Lisa observe.

Logan, too, was satisfied. Right away she began testing out her new independence. With either Mama Jennifer or Auntie Cocoa standing in the doorway watching, Logan explored the ramp and the areas of the ground near the door, stopping to slip back into the stall now and again.

Lisa looked on, intrigued, but not ready to venture onto that strange structure--at least not while the woman with the camera was nearby. The littlest kid, Kendall, hung close to her mother--hoping, I am sure, for more chances to nurse.

Kendall is not thriving as well as the other kids. Being little, I imagine she gets shoved aside in the feeding frenzy--two teats, three kids: Kendall loses. As well, I see Jennifer shaking her off when she tries to feed, so I have taken to holding the momma still one or twice daily to ensure that Kendall gets a decent feeding.

Kendall perches nimbly on my shoulder.

Her coordination has kept apace with the bigger kids' development. This morning when the lot of them were clambering about, climbing upon the human squatting in the stall, Kendall climbed up onto my lap and--with a little help--climbed onto my right shoulder, where she stayed for several minutes while I moved about the stall.

I'm only a little worried about Kendall. She may not be growing as fast as the others, but she's certainly holding her own. With a little help at feeding time, she ought to catch up soon.

Eggsicles!

Eggs in a nest with air temperatures in the teens become frozen dog treats.

With the temperatures dropping into the teens overnight and only inching toward above-freezing for brief moments midday, any uncollected eggs are under extreme pressure as their contents expand in the process of freezing. This morning I peeked into the nest boxes of the chicken coop, only to be faced with messy boxes--it's time to clean the coop, but removing the top takes two people...--so I looked further into the interior. There, glistening in the morning light, sat a clutch of eggs in a little straw nest.

Glistening eggs?! Ah yes, the pressure apparently became more than the shells could bear, and frozen egg white bubbled out over the surface of the closest fractured shell.

The question then became: do the dogs get to enjoy eggsicle treats, or should I wait for them to warm a bit before gifting them to eager canine tongues? Hmm, such dilemmas.

The Warmth of Togetherness

Kids in a box.

Yesterday the temperature continued to hover in the Quite Chilly range. Since than mean old farm woman (me) had readjusted the TekFoil insulation around the keet brooder to the keets' benefit, the kids piled into their favorite jumping-on and sleeping-in cardboard box.

The same kids, now disturbed.

The box is already starting to sag from all of the kids jumping on it, and the little kids have grown enough that the box will only fully accommodate three of them at a time; however, this did not stop them from piling in another three heads--heads whose backsides were exposed to the draft.

This batch of kids is well socialized to humans, and will generally rouse from their napping to visit me when I appear--eager for attention, for a large obstacle on which to climb, and--for the littlest--eager for some human intervention to get them a longer feeding from an impatient doe.

Kids Keep Warm Together

Kids huddle together atop silver foil insulation, pressed beside the brooder's warmth.

We've had some pretty cold nights since the last lot of kids arrived. Most are below freezing, some have gotten into the twenties and teens. Although we keep two heat lamps lit in their suite--one in the dog crate occupied by the keets, and one hanging from the hayrack affixed to the wall--not all six kids can get under a lamp together. One reason for this is that Thumbelina and/or Jennifer, two of the Nigerian Dwarf mama goats, often manage to stand directly beneath the red heat lamp, hogging its warmth.

Is that the top of Kendall's head visible behind Lisa?

In the top photo, I count five of the six kids. Loyal on the left, Luke on the right, and in the center--back to front--MollyToo, Logan, and Lisa. However, a very close inspection reveals that Miss Kendall is tucked in front of Logan; I only "saw" her because the third photo shows her walking away when the group dispersed! Looking back to the middle shot, the star atop her little head is clearly present in front of Logan.

There's little Kendall strolling away, on the left.

The smallest of the six kids, Kendall sure seems adept at taking advantage of her size! Buried in that pile shown at the top of the page, hardly any of her was exposed to the chilly air. Go, Kendall!

Keet on the Move

This fledgling keet is out for a spin. Momma hen, setting on a clutch of eggs in the next stall's corner feed tub, remains unimpressed.

The keets have been with us for nearly a month now and some of them are getting a bit restless. Indeed, last week when I was changing their water and refreshing their food, one young'un blustered out the crate door and past me--eager to explore the larger world.

Not having seen young guineas growing before, and always intrigued by the growth of young birds, I took a minute to watch this fella (or gal, I cannot tell the difference at this point). He (or she) strutted about the stall until I made a move to reach for him (or her), then he (or she) flew up to the cattle panel dividing one stall from the next.

This keet's feather patterns seem more pronounced. And, do I detect a hint of a lump on that head?

The keets' feathers are becoming more pronounced, and their patterns appear to be becoming more distinct. I sometimes think I notice the lump on their heads beginning to appear, then I look again and believe I've been imagining things.

When I had had enough of examining the young bird, he (or she) was easy to scoop up and move back into the dog crate / keet brooder. Very soon I'll need to design alternate accommodations for these almost-adolescent young guineas.