Annabelle & Barney

Annabelle and Barney came to us sometime last week from a Tullahoma couple planning to move and needing to downsize their cat population of thirteen. Each is short-haired, neutered, good-natured, and reputed to be an excellent mouser. Twas the latter claim that hooked us. Of late the mice have been running the barn come sundown. Those "animal-proof" garbage cans (feed bins) have been chewed through as have the hot-pepper-laden hole patches I applied a few months ago. The evening I stuck around to see Marcie settled in, I saw more mice than I cared to--sampling feed from the trough at my side, scurrying along boards on the way to somewhere, and being entirely brazen in their behavior. I called Sherry in Tullahoma, eager to have the new mousers installed in our barn. She appeared with them only a day or two later.

Barney (who had been known as Dooley until his planned move to P&CW Farm, when he was renamed Barney because--duh--he'll live in the barn) is large and black. Annabelle (whose name was never tampered with as she was a later addition to the moving plan) is similarly large and mostly black with white on her face, throat, legs and belly. They look well and settled in here in short order.

Although I housed them in a dog crate set in the stall with Goldie, Lili, and Marcie at first, I would let them out during the day after closing the outer stall doors to exclude any interested animals and to contain Annabelle and Barney. They took to watching for me and visiting when I came by, and seemed interested in their surroundings. The morning I made the mistake of leaving an alpaca in the stall with them, I saw Annabelle charge straight up the wall and into the rafters. The next day both cats were exploring overhead, so I stopped shutting them up and moved their crate with beds, and food outside the stalls. As of yet they show no interest in the fresh-from-the-goat milk I offer them on occasion. (The first three squirts from each teat are discarded, so I try to offer the goodies to whatever dogs or cats might be handy.) And they don't appear for conversation every night, but will let me hear them moving about the barn, or see them streaking across from the tack room to the shelter of some boxes, so I know that they're okay.

The feed bin where the hen's layer mash is stored still emits scratchy noises, and if I pull off the cover I usually can catch a mouse or two enjoying a feast, but now I have hopes that some of these well fed mice will become kitty snacks (or get smart and move away). It's nice to have help with the rodent population, and I enjoy looking up into the rafters to see a cat face festooned with dusty cobwebs peering down at me. These cats have even prompted me to do a bit of fall cleaning, now that the cobwebs are no longer needed to catch flies.

Denise Down

Yesterday I went to let the goat girls out of their overnight enclosures in the late morning. Most poured out past me and vanished quickly into the woods, but one fainter doe was down. Thinking that I might actually be catching a photo of a fainted fainter I whipped out the camera, only to realize as I was snapping the shutter that her legs weren't rigidly stiff like that of one in a faint and, besides, she wasn't moving. Concerned, I entered the enclosure located beneath the refrigerator trailer we got for hay storage.

I knew to duck to keep my hair out of the thick grease where the tractor and trailer were once joined. Although I had had that spot covered with plastic at one time, the goats have long since pulled it down. Since I seem to be the only one at risk for getting greased, replacing the covering has not been a priority.

The bedding benbeath the trailer was dirty and ready to be renewed. There I found Denise stretched out flat on her side; with her vulva swollen, slick, and open; and lying very still. Since she is one of those goats who always seems to be nervous around me, that she stayed still indicated the severity of her condition. She was lying flat on her left side and her abdomen was distended. While a goat's rumen is located on their left side, when it's distended the right side mustbulge if the left side is flat to the ground.

While I was assessing the situation, two phone calls interrupted. This was good because one resulted in our neighbor Tony coming over to help. He grew up in farm country and worked on farms in his youth, so having the wisdom of his experience can be a very calming and reassuring influence indeed. (Although my conversation had been with Theresa, when she reminded me that she would be of no help if the goat was dying and I recall my saying quite emphatically that she, then, should not come over.)  A call to the veterinarian's office determined that the medical staff had just left for lunch (the office closes 12:00 - 1:30 on Fridays), but then Tony appeared to offer advice and support. Together we were able to spread a sheet of insulation over the ground and under the doe.

With a cleaner surface on which to crawl around, Tony sat with me under the trailer for the better part of an hour. Donning gloves, I performed my first pelvic exam. Although I did not expect that she was pregnant, or at least anywhere near delivery, the swollen vulva concerned me; however, I felt no being inside her womb, just the rest of her organs pressing against my fingers from outside the uterine cavity. Together we were able to get Denise to take baking soda and then water; the baking soda was to aid digestion.  She evacuated and burped; we were encouraged. We tried turning her so that her left side (where the rumen is located) would be up, but she squalled as if in pain and we let her up then allowed her to settle back upon her left side.

Eventually Tony had to leave. I went to the house to fetch a notebook in which to make notes about Denise's condition and progress, then came back to sit with her. After 1:30 I started calling Dr. Kinslow's office but didn't get through until nearly 2:00. I knew that Doc Kinslow would understand when I explained that this goat was not worth the price of a veterinary visit, and that I just wanted some advice over the phone. He is very practical and understands the economics of farming. I appreciate that quality.

He told me to turn her so that her left side was up, to situate her hindquarters uphill, and to "sit her up so that she can belch." I had been on the right track giving her baking soda and water, but he said to dissolve the soda in a bit of warm water and to add a bit of whiskey. Worried that she would not accept this concoction and that I would need to drench her with it, I tried to ask about which side of the throat to aim for--as one side is the windpipe leading into the lungs.

His response was explosive, and while I cannot claim that it's an exact quote, this certainly captures the flavor and gist of his message: "Aw hell, she's going to die anyway! Don't be stupid about it! Don't pour it in like you was tryin' to drown her. Be polite about it!" I was told to pour the liquid into her gently, holding her head at a 45 degree angle, then rub her midsection to encourage her to burp.

Have I mentioned how much I like Doc Kinslow?

By 3:00 p.m. Denise was standing up, alert, calling to her goat gal friends. When I left her she was listing a bit to one side, leaning against the chain link for support, but did not seem to be concerned with any pain.

Today I gave her the last of the whiskey mixture and kept her in again. I was heartened to hear her calling out to her gal pals on occasion. She was interested in their movements, and elicited a visit from Isabel when fresh hay was delivered. I don't think she's going to be dying today.

Welcome Marcie

Marcie came to us yesterday from C&M Valley Farm in Readyville, Tennessee. The owner, Melissa, was so kind and helpful we would have liked to be able to give her more business, but with the station wagon (and a nearly-empty wallet) Marcie was all we could manage that day. What a treat this new Saanen/Nubian cross doe is already! Although her milk production has fallen off because it's autumn and because her previous owner took a milking hiatus for some days, one milking with this statuesque gal produces more than we get in a week from our little Nigerian Dwarf gals. And she has such a sweet personality, we couldn't be happier.

Of course we love our little Nigerian Dwarfs and the Tennessee Fainters, but much of their personality comes through in aggression. Not Marcie. Yes, she was skittish that first night she moved here. The photos show her moving into a box stall that she now shares with alpacas Goldie Rose and Lili. I must have spent two hours that evening just standing in or near that stall while the girls all got used to one another. If I exited, Marcie was quickly up on her hind legs peering down the corridor to see where I had gone. I'm not used to such tall goats. Indeed, fainter Gwen can reach her nose up to the top of the door's wood, but Marcie may as well be human for her stature.

When I first brought her into that stall, having changed my mind at the last minute and decided against putting her in with Nigerian Dwarf Jennifer and alpacas Van and Spencer because Jennifer can be quite pushy with those horns of hers, why Marcie had no idea of how I was sparing her from Jennifer's aggression. Instead, what she saw was not the quiet alpaca I had chosen to pair her with but the BIG, TALL alpaca whose size cowed Marcie immediately. The first hour was spent pretty much with me at one side of the stall and Marcie and Goldie Rose standing diagonally across from one another, as far away as either could get in the restricted space. Marcie was shy but steady whereas Goldie seemed to think that if she did not look at Marcie, perhaps Marcie would not be there.

Leave it to the young to resolve all of our differences. Indeed, Miss Lili Gray Clouds made the first overtures, venturing over to sniff this new goat before skittering back to the safety of her dam's side. Eventually Goldie relaxed enough to lie down with Lili beside her. Marcie did not lie down in all the time that I was there, but she did relax enough to sample the grain and munch on the hay. Even so, she seemed so shy that I debated spending the night in the barn just to give her the familiarity of my presence. I was tired enough that I could have slept right there in the stall with these gals.

Eventually I got brave enough to walk away. While I would have liked to be able to ignore Marcie's calls, of course I walked the whole distance to the house replying to her every bleat, telling her that it would be all right, that she should try to settle in, and that she would see me again in the morning.

This morning Marcie was eager to come out into the sunshine. I kept Jennifer handy and milked each gal in turn. After milking, Marcie and I walked around for a bit and then I turned her out with the alpaca gals, Luther, and the geese. Again she objected to being left, but seemed to settle in after a while. I'm looking for another full-sized milk goat to keep with her and hope to have a companion for her within the week.

Millicent the Greedy Gal

Yesterday I was heading indoors when I looked up and noticed our delightful neighbor Theresa conversing over the fence with Miss Millie. 'Twas a pretty sight, but the camera battery was charging so Theresa was spared the intrusiveness of my sloppy photographic skills. With house slippers already on, I shuffled down the leaf-strewn driveway with care--actively avoiding any goose piles and steamy horse buns. The pair didn't need me to wander over--Millie was intent on every piece of carrot Theresa was offering, and was acting quite charming and social.

When I appeared to distract Theresa's attention, somehow Millie managed to knock a carrot piece off of the proffered palm and into the dry oak and hickory leaves underfoot. Mindless of her error, Millie requested more carrot delivered at her height--and Theresa readily obliged. I mused aloud that now I understood why the horses often graze along the fence strip, even though to do so means crossing the slippery driverway. But Theresa stated that this was the first time she had brought food to the fenceline. What do you know, I thought, those clever horses managed to lure an unsuspecting human out of her home laden with treats for them, just by being cute and available.

Once the carrott pieces were gone, Millie nudged Theresa for more only to receive a the admonition that the treats were gone except for "that piece, right there" on the ground. With her index finger Theresa gestured to make her point, but Millie doesn't listen so well and seized the opportunity--and the finger--to close her teeth over the hand that had just fed her. When Theresa squawked in alarm, I looked up to see her forefinger securely clamped between Millie's soft lips, but my neighbor was feeling the acute pressure of strong teeth over the first joint of that digit. I moved to swat at Millie and only made things worse because she started to move away without releasing her fleshy prize.

Soon Millie had moved off down the drive and poor Theresa was clutching her finger with her opposing hand, hesitant to look at the damage. "Oh, she couldn't have broken the skin," said I, only to be told that no, "She most certainly did." Uh oh, the situation was worse than I had first assessed. Allowed to look at the wound, I saw that indeed Theresa was right. Miss Millie, the hog, had ripped a chunk of skin along the side of that knuckle. Theresa was dispatched to her house to clean the wound, and I turned to Millie to tell the horse that she had blown a fine opportunity through her greediness. Theresa called back over her shoulder that no, she would be back and claimed that she had been at fault for Millie's rude behavior.

Such a trooper, that Theresa is resielient when it comes to facing farm-related injuries. Not ten minutes later I received a text saying that Theresa had brought more carrots to the fence and settled her disagreement with Millie. "It's cool," she wrote and meant it.

I'm not sure if I would have been so forgiving.

The Dating Game

When Mitzi showed signs of being ready to breed, I sent her on a date with Brad Pitt, the handsome young tan-and-white pinto fainter. They spent a couple of days and nights in the alpaca girls' side of the home pasture, with Brad being excused on occasion for inviting himself to the alpaca dinner trough. For a little guy, Brad can reach up to, over, and into wall-mounted feed bins with ease. At one time when Brad was excused, Hugh Jackman entered the dating sphere. Unfortunately, neither of these young bucks showed much of an interest in sweet Mitzi. The photo depicts the one moment when Brad was caught expressing an interest in the shaggy gal; however, he'll need to get much closer if he has any desire to be fruitful and multiply. Indeed, after the first night the two were left together, Brad showed so little interest that I trotted Mitzi over to the fence near BullyBob just to see if my original diagnosis of her being ready for breeding was correct. BullyBob said it was so--vociferously, with much grunting and snorting.

A conversation yesterday with another goat breeder who raises both Nigerian Dwarfs and Fainters helped me to understand better. Apparently the Nigerian Dwarfs have a healthy libido and are eager to fulfill any requests for breedings, whereas the Fainters by nature are less driven. I guess that is why people assume a doe has been bred just because she has been "running with" a buck for a number of weeks. I'm tempted to put BullyBob in with Mitzi just to arouse the Fainter fellows, but expect that the result would be a kid or kids by BullyBob--handsome, but less likely to faint. Since Mitzi is already a Nigerian x Fainter cross herself who rarely stiffens (as fainters do just before falling over in a "faint"), I have no wish to mix Bully's genes into her lineage.

Hmm, maybe if I fenced a small area within a larger area, then placed the fainters I hoped to breed within the smaller enclosure and had BullyBob roaming just outside that fence...maybe that would help to focus the Fainter bucks on task. Since the puppies are now climbing over the fence-within-the-pasture I created for them a few weeks ago, perhaps I'll try using that for goats today. Wish me luck!