Who's Your Daddy?

No, seriously, who's your daddy?

Since my plans were overturned by Mother Nature, I'm not sure which of my little bucklings is the father of my new babies.

It seems that when I have a trip to Little Rock for business, that's the day for having babies.  Yesterday, I came back to find Little Momma missing from the herd and located her out in my north pasture by the fence.  Also spotted something moving near her feet and two vultures sitting in the small tree right above her.  My heart sank as I got closer and saw that she very recently had three babies and one was curled up by the fence and not moving around like the other two.

As I approached, the vultures flew off and I checked on the wee one who was still alive but weak and not too interested in getting up.  I got her standing and was able to get her to start nursing and after that, things seem to be moving along okay.

Poor Little Mamma -- three babies and only two teats.  She kept giving me what appeared to be a "what do I do now" look.  I brought her "sweet" water (water with molasses) and some goat chow to give her some energy which she quickly consumed.

It was supposed to storm and I had to find a way to get everyone to the barn.  So I buried the placenta, got a large plastic feeder, put an old towel in the bottom so they wouldn't slide around too much and loaded them in.  It was another lesson in "goat society" behavior.  Talk about a racket -- the babies were yelling and the mother was calling frantically and running around searching for them and all the other goats came running and calling out.  I had to keep the babies from jumping or falling out, while keeping Little Momma focused on where they were as I moved slowly toward the barn.

About half way there she got confused and ran back out to where she had birthed them, so I had to go back and show her than I had them and try again.  I kept coaxing her to come with me, stopping every few yards and putting the babies down where she could sniff them and "talk" to them.  All the while, literally trying to wade through the other goats that had come running and encircled me, making it quite difficult to walk without tripping (they would get in front of me and just stop) -- trying to keep Little Mamma as close as possible.  I'm not sure why they did this, maybe to stop me from taking the babies. . . who knows, but they were very vigilant the whole way.

Then the babies settled down and quit yelling, so Little Momma didn't know where to run.  Before she bolted back out to the birthing spot, I snatched one of the babies up so it would start yelling again.  Finally made it to the barn and got everyone settled and checked on them several more times with my flashlight to make sure everything was okay before I could go to sleep.  

We'll have to wait and see, when her milk comes in, whether or not she can take care of feeding all three.  If not, hello bottle-feeding routine.  

These two were my first-born of the season.  They, too, were born while I was in L.R. for a meeting about three weeks ago.  Unfortunately, I had to bury their little sister who was dead when I got back home.  I don't know if she was born dead or if I could have saved her.  It was sad, though.  I knew Little Sister was going into labor as I was leaving about 6:30 that morning, but it was a meeting I really needed to go to.  She had had two other sets of babies without a problem, so I decided to leave it all up to Mother Nature.

They have had a couple of close encounters with Mary M (donkey).  You may recall the cropped tail of one and the chunk out of the side of another from last season.  One afternoon, a neighbor stopped by while I was tending to things after work and I happened to look up and see that Mary had separated Little Sister from her two babies and wouldn't let them back together.  When one of the little ones decided to make a break for it, Mary went after it and I went after Mary -- yelling and running as fast as I could down to the barn.  I think Mary knows she is not supposed to do that, because she kicked up her heels and ran away from me.  Then again, I guess if some crazy-acting person came running and yelling toward me, I'd head in the other direction, too.

Just haven't figured that one out yet.  I think she thinks they should belong to her and maybe donkey discipline works for a baby donkey but it definitely does not for goat babies.  I've tried keeping the donkeys in away from the goats, but the goats like to be where the donkeys are, especially at night and I like having them for protection now that I don't have Captain.  So in order to get the goats to the barn, I have to give the donkeys access.

There must be some protective instinct or something going on -- Little Sister and her babies were out in the pasture one afternoon and when all the other goats came in, M.J. gently "herded" them back to home base.  It was very interesting to watch -- which I could have captured it on video.

Then it was Fat Alice's turn -- looked a lot like Little Sister's two so they may have had the same father.  Got to sit in the barn and watch the whole birthing process.  Great way to spend last Saturday morning.

Three down, three to go.
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Dorado who, with a few other men, had arrived in N.Y. on Thursday morning to pick it up.  It had been a two-year process, but the city of El Dorado was able to obtain this piece.  Apparently, sections of the steel have been made available to states who meet their criteria for how it will be used.  (They had to take out a $2 million insurance policy to bring it back.)

They were provided special escorts through most of the larger cities they came through.  It was quite moving and when the young man told me that as they enter El Dorado later that day all the fire-trucks will line the road going into the city, he choked up and so did I.  It chokes me up now just to think about our conversation.  They were letting anyone who wanted to touch it, even lifting children up into the truck to reach it.  Very moving.  He is going to post something on ACASA's Facebook page so I will learn who he is.

This fellow, visiting the library, was from Michigan and was obviously moved, so had his wife take this photo.  Check out the sweatshirt he happened to be wearing.

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Built these two 3 x 6 raised bed planters, with two more to go.  Of course, it may be the end of summer before I finish filling them with dirt and actually plant something.  Figure I might a well choose plants that goats like to eat because it seems it never fails that I have to bring some of them into the yard for doctoring or something.  But still, I have high hopes for some good veggies later.

My Subaru is making a great farm vehicle (might as well sell my Volvo) -- hauls four bales of hay and enough lumber to build these planters.  Wonder how many goats . . .