Another Herd Sold

P&CW Farm's myotonic goats leave for Oliver Springs, Tennessee.

This afternoon the remnants of our fainter herd hit the trail. We sent Mary and her pals off in the care of a nice couple named Joanne and Hugh, to a farm that's already fenced and cross-fenced--it just needs some goats and now a livestock guardian. They'll make a pretty herd over time, as they have the peach-and-white buck Brad Pitt and the sturdy tri-color buck Joshua who originally moved here from Mt. Juliet. The other goat who also came here from Mt. Juliet, Mitzi, went with Joshua--although her kid Josie stayed behind with Cocoa's kid LA (or Lisa) because the latter two are scheduled to move to Portland to be with Todd (now Toby) and Kendall. Both of our Numbers girls and their pal Sarah left today, along with Sarah's yearling Carla. Oh yes, and Feenster was in the truck as well.

Now that the grass is lush and green and we've made it through the thin cold days of winter we sold the little goats to give us time. Once Josie and LA move, we'll be down to a manageable herd of three does and the sole buck Midnight Hank.

Poor Hank, he has spent the last several days knocking heads with Brad and Joshua, enough so that he seemed to forget to miss his does--moved away from him as they should soon kid. I'll have to figure out how to keep him occupied. Maybe he'll adjust to a work schedule of consistent mowing--all that grazing might get his mind off of the gals.

Although I will miss the characters so many of those goats were to me, these sun-filled days give me plenty of chores to keep me occupied so soon they should be just happy memories.

Hot Weather

The days have been steadily hot for at least a couple of weeks now. Temperatures in the nineties are the daytime norm and low 100's are not unusual. The humidity provides the greatest challenge, though, because one can hardly stand outside and breathe without working up a healthy sweat.

We are thankful to have three automatic waterers installed and three more nearly completed. Now the animals are not dependent upon our trudging up the hill with a hose or buckets to get fresh water. Most of them can get to a fresher water source in their general travels. This is important as they all suffer under the stress of hot weather.

Staying hydrated is a challenge for people, too. I seem to be forever stopping to chug down glasses of water or sports drinks, only to have to stop again in just a few minutes. So long as the sweat runs heavily, I know that I'm okay. The cessation of sweating is a danger sign that one is already dehydrated. Feeling chilled when the thermometer reads 102 degrees Fahrenheit is another.

Miss Mary, her caprine companions, and the canines, equines, and camelids of the farm all hang out in shady areas when they can find them. The photo shows little Miss Mary--all of five months old now--lording it over the rest of us from the top of a woodpile beneath the tree canopy. No flies on that gal, she knows how to take care of herself.

Walking on a Lead

Teaching young goats to walk on a lead would be an unnecessary exercise were several of our young kids not scheduled to make an Easter Sunday appearance in Nashville. With the So Green is My Grass Daycare space reserved, the kids are managing short separations from their dams with some grace; however, moving several at once remains a challenge.

Yesterday I tried pairing off the kids, forcing them to travel as a team. The concept worked well last year, especially for BullyBob (the sire of all but two of our kids this year) and Leo, the wether who has since moved on to a household where he’s the only goat—and so rather the rock star at that address.

Will and Walter, Thumbelina’s twins and our oldest kids this season, managed well as a pair yesterday. They managed well enough that this morning I clipped them together on a short lead and left them in the home pasture, together, while rounding up others. They traveled around efficiently, hardly dragging one another, seeming to understand the teamwork required to succeed when hitched together.

Samuel and Mister Maguire, meanwhile, had settled down in some hay for some serious morning napping. The adults in their life had been taken away without raising any alarm and they were enjoying their freedom beyond the confines of the barn. (My plan was to not only get the boys and their momma accustomed to separation before Easter morning, but also to allow Miss Marcie to build up a bit of milk for the humans who live here before afternoon milking time.) With all the eating they’ve been doing—Marcie produces somewhere around three quarts of milk for us each day, and these boys had milked her dry on more than one occasion—the boys are getting heavy. I took them out one at a time so as to carry them successfully. Later on, after they were awake, they could practice walking on a lead.

Samuel, then, was the first kid left in the daycare pen. He was concerned and disoriented, but he did not panic. Next I brought down Miss Mary. Then I found Walter and Will patiently waiting by a T-post where they’d gotten hung up by trying to pass it on different sides while hitched together. They were so good about their predicament that I was well pleased. They traveled to the daycare pen on foot and the process went smoothly. Then I roused Mister Maguire from his sunny sleeping spot and he lazily allowed me to lug him down the hill. By the time he arrived, Samuel had discovered the tasty the green grass and was little concerned about his twin’s appearance. Finally I hitched two of Jennifer’s triplet boys together—Ted and Todd. They did not travel well.

Todd exhibited mammoth lung capacity for such a little guy, and he pulled and flipped, bucked and twisted the whole way down the hill. When the pair arrived at the pen, I left then hitched together because Todd made it clear that even tied to his brother he was going to do everything in his power to avoid me when I came to move them again.

The So Green is My Grass Daycare was a happy, lively spot for a few hours while moms Gwen, Thumbelina, and Jennifer grazed freely below the enclosure. I was able to milk Leslie a little while still leaving her plenty in reserve for her boys, and got about a pint and a half from Miss Marcie, too, before bringing the Nubian buckling back up the hill. Little Samuel and Maguire make a serious pair. Coming back uphill, they traveled well hitched together and separated from me by a long lead, as did the Walter-Will tandem that traveled alongside them.

With another day of successful separation behind them, I’m anticipating a successful Easter activity if we just bring those five kids who traveled well and leave Jennifer’s three and Cocoa’s Theresa back on the farm. Indeed, I rather think these five will enjoy their excursion to new pastures and will enjoy the attentions of new people.

The other four will need more time to master walking on a lead. They may have all the time they need.

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...

Keeping Warm

The morning after the snow arrived, the air was clear, crisp, and bone-chillingly cold. This became readily apparent when my fingers began to hurt before I had even opened any gates outside. To unfasten the gate at the top of the orchard, I first had to break the ice coating free from the snap latch. This required me to remove a glove for improved dexterity and gave me a first glimpse of how the chill air would be treating me that afternoon. When my fingers began to ache before the gate was unlatched, I realized just how cold it was outside. After breaking the ice crust miring the gate bottom to the snowpack, the cattle panel (gate) moved freely and allowed me to pass.

Our young roo, Prince Eric, was fluffed as fluff could be--putting as much space between his body and the chill air as he could muster.

The spotted saddle horses, Stella and Millie, were hunched together in front of the chain-link kennel as if by crowding each other underneath the little overhang of roof they might spare themselves further chills. Both their backs and the tops of their sides were coated in ice, and icicles hung like fringe from their full winter coats. They were not eager to move when I asked, but moving them was necessary in order to reach the dairy goats in the front half of the kennel, and then the dog dishes in the back portion. When I glanced up the hill, I saw that Lucy and Janet were similarly crowded together in front of the barn--which was silly, I thought, for they could easily have gained shelter beneath the roof to the run-in portion of the barn in the rear. (Later when I reached them, their coats testified to their having sought shelter during the freezing rains. They were at the front of the barn to ensure that I noticed them when I doled out grain.)

Luther waited by the home pasture gate and Molly and the pups crowded along the driveway gate. All were eager to pile down to the kennel for their kibble. After they had piled into the back of the kennel and the dairy goats had sipped at the warm water I had brought out, I headed into the home pasture and up to the barn. The alpaca mamas and their crias along with Gwen and Mary all came out onto the ice-covered snow to greet me. Goldie Rose's topnot sported a shining ice coating and little Mary skittered alongside her mama--visibly shivering. (She had shucked her fleece coat the day before and been left overnight with just her own black-and-white fur coat and the heat lamp in the stall.)

Something looked odd in the next stall and I glanced over to find both Jennifer and Thumbelina crowded together under the heat lamp in that stall--and little Will was standing squarely on his Auntie Jen's back practically kissing up to the heat lamp. (I had to slide the camera through the stall grate to capture that!) After snapping the photo shown, I then saw Will literally nuzzling up to the heat lamp. Understanding just how chilly the goats perceived the air to be, I bustled about getting Mary suited up in a double-warm getup. The green fleece snugs close to her body and one of the boys' abandoned wool-lined jean jackets provides a secure outer layer. (Yes, the jean jackets had dried from their last use and I made sure that Gwen still recognized her gal beneath the smell of little buckling before leaving Mary in her snowsuit.) 

Before leaving the animals with their hay for the day, I did add layers to the stall divider for the Nigerian Dwarf does. Not only do I want the kids to keep warm, but now both Cocoa and Jennifer are there waiting to kid. That trio and the boys did not get out to romp in the fresh air today, although I am sure they would have loved the opportunity. This year I am erring on the side of caution and keeping the littlest kids sheltered from potential airborne predators. (Mary Packer is not much bigger, but she sticks close to Gwen and moves fast. Besides, to pick her up a hawk would have to take on Gwen and I doubt she would be very receptive to the idea of handing her kid over as a snack.)

Launch My Line

While I do not watch reality television, it is hard to avoid the incessant commercials when watching any show in real time. One of the annoying ads airing currently is for a show titled "Launch My Line" about contestants trying to design lines of clothing for market. For the past couple of days I've been playing with designing clothing to protect our new kids in very cold weather.

At first the boys wore little bluejean capes but those needed work and quickly changed into the impromptu wool-lined jean jackets (okay, goat coats) pictured here. That night the temperature dropped into the low 20's. In the morning I was concerned about Gwen's Mary who had been active enough to leave unclothed the prior night. Smart Mary had bedded down behind a folded table propped up against a stall wall (serving to cut drafts into the adjoining stall); she conveniently loacated herself as close as possible to the heat lamp under which the boys lounged. Clever gal! My feelings of guilt ensured that she quickly got a wool cape. The boys' coats had shifted so that their linings were more to one sidem nut they were still serviceable. Satisfied for the time being, I went about my chores and errands.

In the afternoon when I checked on the animals again, Mary's cape had slid around and she was stepping on it as she moved. Soon she had stepped right out of the cape, leaving it lying on the stall floor like any child's cast-off jacket. Since the boys had been trapped inside the barn (out of sight of predatory birds) for the morning, it was time they got out into the sunshine and I brought them out. (Any predator would be hard pressed to challenge Gwen.)

Alhough the jackets had stayed on the kids, the slippage meant that the little bucklings had thoroughly wet the low side with their urine. It was time to revamp my clothing line.

My morning errands had included a trip to the Lebanon Goodwill, where Wednesdays and Sundays are 99 cent days (on select clothing items). After a couple of nights with temperatures in the 20's, I wanted better covering for the kids and had gone in search of a fluffy-lined coat (fake sheep's wool) to cut up. Almost immediately I found a large, heavy jacket and a full-length wool tweed coat, each marked $24.99 but selling for $0.99 apiece. Silently cheering at my luck, I bundled these into the cart and browsed on only to realize a bit later that these materials were certainly thick and heavy, but that very weight would make cutting them a challenge. They went back onto the racks and I left with a couple of much lighter fleece pullovers--one a thicker vest and one thinner but with sleeves. (Sleeves and tube socks are the fastest young-animal coat materials I have found: cut a piece off and make a hole for the legs, and we're in business.)

Miss Mary Packer's new coat was the first freed from the scissors. Once it was on, I saw that I had added unnecessary extra holes for threading also-unnecessary ties with which to cinch the coat on more tightly. (That design had worked well for the boys the prior night, but was totally unnecessary this time around.) The fleece tube hugged her body quite well and only needed to be turned around to make the narrowest part of the sleeve into the collar. She suffered my attentions with aplomb and was soon out cavorting about with Gwen again.

Will and Walter's coats had held well, but both were wet with urine and so in need of a change. I had fun using the remaining sleeve to line the two denim capes that had been my first (discarded) attempts the prior day. Working with wriggling kids makes fittings challenging, so each cut is a gamble, but I rather like how their duds fit when I was done. Something about the fleece-lined jean jacket look says "farm boy" to me.

For the record, the wet on little Walter's coat in the photo is water, and the dirt on their coats is "clean" in that my bluejeans tend to emerge from the wash still looking a tad worn.

So, what do you think, Dear Reader? Am I ready to launch my line?

Miss Mary, Hardly Contrary

The first Tennessee Fainting goat and first doeling of the season was born last week to Gwen, our fainter herd queen. The delivery took me by surprise. Even though Gwen's midsection had been rounding down, the thought had not occurred to me that she would be delivering anytime soon. Gwen delivered her kid while out in the back pastures and the dogs were there to clean up any mess she might have left, so she was able to introduce me to her already-dried and scampering kid when we met in the driveway by the barn at dinner time.

The temperature had become warmer during the days, but still freezing at night, so the pair was promptly settled into a barn stall with a heat lamp. Gwen is a responsible and experienced mother, so after witnessing the kid nurse, I let them be for the night.

The next female name we had in line for use was Mary, for the wonderful, bright, and energetic woman by that name whom we know from New England. Married to Walter (whose name was used for our first buckling of the year), the warm, nurturing, no-nonsense Mary is also mother to our dear friend Judy (whose name was used for the alpaca cria born to Myfawny, a.k.a. Van, last fall--Judith TwilightStar). All of the members if this family have been very good to us over the years and are treasures in our hearts.

By making our animals their namesakes we are sure to think of the human name-donators frequently and with pleasure. 'Tis true that over time the connection will fade as each animal grows to assume a personality with the name, but still every so often (if not daily, at least weekly) the connection will surface and I'll take a moment to remember the human at one point or another via a snapshot from my memory bank. I'm very glad we chose to name some of our animals this way because it keeps what could be a lost connection alive in my heart.

Gwen's little Mary is a delightful, bouncy kid--a far cry from Gwen's last kid Raymond, who was born in a freezing-cold barn and even after spending a week in our laundry room under a heat lamp, was slow to gain his walking legs. Plus, while Raymond was a full fainter, Mary's sire is BullyBob our Nigerian Dwarf buck. It's from him that she got her blue eyes and the little pendants at the top of her neck which we call "goat jewelry." Like the original, our Mary is vibrant and has a definite spring in her step. She's curious, always eager to learn more about the world around her--tasting my boots and jeans, trying to fit her head through the sheep-and-goat panel squares separating her from the young male alpacas, and dancing from corner to corner of her restricted stall space.

Our little Miss Mary is a delightful gal, hardly contrary except when I pick her up and hold her too long away from her mother. When that happens, she exhibits lung power worthy of a future trombone player. She's quite cute, our little Mary Packer.