Marcie Delivers Twin Doelings

Marcie tends to her newly-delivered kid.

Yesterday evening I got home later than planned, and hustled up to the barn to check on Marcie. She was in distress, with a kid lodged in her birth canal. Unable to deliver her offspring, Marcie was straining without success. I entered to see a head that had cleared the birth canal, but no feet. The kid still was wrapped in its sac but appeared to be breathing, so I cleared some of the gook away from her nose and mouth before trying to help the doe. Although I could not push the kid back into the dam, I was able to reach in and locate the front legs that were folded back at the knees. One at a time, I caught a foreleg on my fingers and managed to straighten each so that the hooves projected out below the kid's chin. After a gentle tug by me while Marcie pushed, the kid slipped out easily. It was female!

Wishing that I had had time to clean the stall before Marcie delivered, I put out fresh shavings where the kid lay and stepped back to allow Marcie to tend to her young. Then I remembered that I was not supposed to even allow Marcie to lick her kid dry, and I began a frantic search for clean towels. A quick trip to the house found me returning with towels, recently-purchased syringes of colostrum, and a bottle of formula. The bottle of Pamela's colostrum was left out on the counter to thaw.

The wet kid nuzzles the barn wall in search of sustenance.

The kid was up and walking when I returned, but her coat was still wet after I toweled it a bit and the late-day temperature was approaching freezing. After giving her a dose of colostrum suspended in gel, I presented her with the bottle. That was not a smart move. Although she suckled briefly, the nipple came back bearing some of the colostrum I had just administered. I spun the dial on the syringe and tried to replace as much as I had just removed from the kid's mouth. After snipping the umbilical cord and dipping it in peroxide--the iodine was hiding--I tucked the doeling under my shirt and headed for the house where I would try to get her warm. The kid demonstrated considerable lung power when removed from the stall; we were thankful for her good health.

In the house, I hastily settled this first kid into a plastic bin lined with towels, tucked an old sweatshirt around her as a blanket, and left her in the warmth. Our operations manager was talking to her, albeit a bit stiffly, as I left. While making my way back up the hill in the dark and chilly evening, I reviewed my upcoming schedule, and weighed the options of bottle feeding to protect the kid from CAE versus allowing Marcie to manage the job. Clearly the doe would be happier allowed to keep her young. Our household would be happier if I were not agitating to keep new kids indoors. And with Winter School looming, it made more sense to abandon thoughts of bottle raising any kids. We would discuss it together, but I was pretty sure of the outcome: Marcie would be allowed to keep her kid (or kids) and she would do a much better job than me.

Marcie with her second kid of the night.

In the barn, I found that Marcie had delivered and dried off a second doeling while I was gone. This gal was a little darker in color and sported a star on her forehead. Even though I would likely be leaving the kid with her dam, since I had milked Marcie the prior evening, I administered a dose of the colostrum gel to this kid. She took it without complaint.

The temperature continued to drop, and I left in search of another lamp and bulb. Of course, the only lamp I found had the remains of a broken bulb in its socket. Back at the house, I wrestled the broken base from the socket while discussing our kid care options. No surprise, leaving the kids with their dam was our choice. The new kids were named then. Kimberly, for the light-fawn colored firstborn, and Isabell for the honey-colored twin. Once I had a new bulb installed and tested, I bundled Kimberly back under my coat and trundled her--and the lamp--back up to the barn.

Kimberly nurses.

While waiting for Marcie to pass all of the afterbirth, I strewed fresh straw about the stall, obtained an extension with multiple outlets and a GFCI switch, rearranged the heat lamps, and encouraged the new kids to nurse. The afterbirth hung on even after the doelings had eaten and settled to sleep beneath the heat lamp. When Marcie had finally passed the last of it, and I had ascertained that it was, indeed, complete it was time for the goats to rest for the night. I rewarded the adult does with a taste of Goat Nutri-Drench before leaving, then hung the bottles high--out of goat reach.

The evening had been a success. Both doelings were tall and strong, like their dam, and the births had gone well. After losing Marcie's first kids two years ago, I was feeling grateful as I trudged back down the frosty drive to the house.

Thank you, Lord, for our healthy herd.