There is no way to sugar coat it

 
   The little kindergarten chickens were taken last night and eaten by a family of coyotes. I am heartbroken. Joe searched everywhere today for any survivors. But all we found were two dead small hens in our neighbor's yard and evidence all around the temporary hen yard of  coyote scratch marks and loose feathers.
   As some of you may remember, the chicks had outgrown their nursery in front of the goat milk stand. They needed a temporary home until the goat nursery would be available for them this weekend. Don had rigged up a cute little play yard for them. He utilized a goalie net and an old secure truck cap. The hens had plenty of space, ground to scratch, and  room to run and peck and begin to fly.
    Their final destination was to join the established flock. But they still needed a few months to get larger. The pecking order can be cruel to new little birds and I wanted them separated for another few months.
   When I first saw Donnie's little henhouse I worried that it was too far from our house to hear anything in case something went wrong. But I shook it off as silly fears. After all farmers keep their animals out of sight all the time.  When we one day get land, we certainly won't have the goats and bunnies and chickens in the back yard observing our every move. That would be silly.
   But Saturday night a young coyote put up quite a howl just off our side yard, while we ere all in the garden. Don chased him away and did not see any other creatures. We assumed it was a half grown pup that had lost his family. But the family must've been skulking in the bushes.
  In the 17 years we have farmed here only once did we have a wild animal problem, when a small weasel got in a bunny cage (by wriggling up thru the feeder.) He chewed his way out of the pen but not before killing a young bunny and badly frightening its mother. We secured the cages and never had another problem.
    However I should have taken the young coyote so close to us as a warning. Instead we simply double checked the animals and never gave it another thought. This morning as I was milking Mama I asked Don to refill to baby chicks big waterer. It has been so hot and I was to be gone all day. Although they were snug and cool in the shade I wanted to make sure they would not get thirsty. Donnie headed across the other side of the yard to them and then came back baffled and concerned. "Sue I am sorry they are gone." Confused my first thought was that some neighbor children stole them. After dark, it is easy to steal a chicken since they sleep so soundly. You can pick them up like a basketball and they would not ever stir.
  But then he told me about the paw marks and feathers. He wandered the yard hoping to spot a frightened chick in some hidey hole. But they were all gone.
    My neighbor across the street then came over and I rushed to see if she saw or heard anything. She sadly pointed out two dead birds in her yard.  She is right in front of our yard and behind her are the power lines. Clearly the coyotes crossed through there.
   Those poor little mites never stood a chance. I know I should probably think about the young hungry mother coyote trying to rear her young so close to dangerous humans. But all I can think about are those cute little fluffy chicks. Oh they weren't cute any longer. Long and lanky in chicken teen years they were mostly feathered and but kind of gawky. But I helped hatch them and have cared for them their whole short lives and I feel like I let the poor things down.
      Although we have never had a problem I should've anticipated one. Anyway I just wanted to share the loss with you all. You can be sure we will never neglect and leave the henhouse open again like we often do. We will also check the baby goat nursery to make sure it is secure. Also, I think I will keep the babies in there until they get a bit larger, before putting them fulltime in the herd. Just to be safe.

Tough day on the farm

   Most of the animal care is pretty routine. Feed, water, shelter, playtime.  Dog, cat, bunny, chicken, goat, they pretty much have the same needs just on a larger or smaller scale.
   There are a few big days though in a farmer's life when the routine is NOT routine. Today was such a day. This morning the triplets needed to receive a shot, some baby aspirin, get dehorned, and the 2 boys castrated. Patty Duke also needed both her ears tattooed but for the sake of my stress level if not hers, we put that off for a few days.
   I had intended on all this BIG stuff to get done last weekend under the watchful eye of my goat mentor. However SHE underwent knee surgery, and I battled some stubborn kidney stones, and so another week went by.
   We have not yet made or bought a kid restraint box, and so Donnie was the muscle of the operation. restraining squirmy kids while I got the job done. We will definitely have a box available next time.
   The baby aspirin was easy. I have gotten all sorts of creatures to swallow pills over the years and so a quick grab open pop in shut force swallow and there you go. After about 20 minutes I injected the 3 with their CD & T injection (and gave Capella a booster to boot!) This too went smoothly.
  I then asked Donnie to wrap Tango up in the towel. After much thought, discussion, and research I had settled on horns first, then balls. Donnie then decided, as men often do, to give advice and change the routine. At this point my tension level was very high and my temper very short. For 3 weeks I had tried to engage him in conversation about the best way to do this. NOW was not the time to kibitz.
   Having been married to me for nearly 30 years he heard my tone of voice and silenced his advice. The fact that I has wielding a hot dehorner, with a castrator behind me, may have influenced his decision.
     I carefully shaved the hair around the horn buds (burnt hair smells horrific). I then applied the hot burner, as I had been taught by my mentor, to a count of five, a circling pressure, but not too much. We did this to the next two goats and then after carefully looking over each horn sprayed a disinfectant on it that left their horn scars and my hands a brilliant and nearly unwashable purple. As soon as they were released we gave them sips of milk and all three played about as if nothing happened. They certainly yelled when it was being done to them but as soon as they were released you would not have known anything had happened. Well, except for the funny purple dye on top of their heads.
    Next Don grabbed the first boy and held him in a sitting position tightly but sympathetically grabbing his four legs and leaving the little guys- ahem- exposed. I carefully opened the elastrator, which looks like a pair of plyers with 4 prongs that you put a small sturdy elastic around. Sliding the balls into the elastrator I tried to disengage it. But the elastic would not just slide easily off the prongs. I had to peel them off, one prong at a time, and let me tell you that little goat protested vigorously! Feeling really bad I did the same to the next little guy and he too was not happy.
   All three goats then got a bottle to nurse from and although they all ate vigorously the poor boys stood sort of bow legged. 5 hours later the little girl is romping about, no worse for wear. The boys are much more subdued and I will give them a little more aspirin later. Supposedly their discomfort will not last much longer.
    Truly it went smoothly although I wont feel totally comfortable until I know for sure those horns will not regrow. Tough day on the farm today though and not just for the 3 baby goats!

A Hat Trick

   The triplets are one week old today. This absolutely is the first time I have even been able to reflect on their birth and the impact these little lives are having on us. The demands of bottle feeding 3 newborns and one toddler (Capella the alpine goat is still on a bottle) is all consuming, just as with human babies. But boy is it tons of fun.
   This morning as I milked their recalcitrant mother Matilda, the little ones scampered and leaped and clicked their little heels together, joyfully cavorting about. They explored the world just outside their nursery, while never straying too far. I watched how they greeted the day and thought about how we would all be better off if we too greeted Monday morning in this way. But then I hastily pulled the milk bucket out of the way and leaned back, narrowly avoiding Matilda defecating on me!
    Matilda it seems has read the book on how to be a stubborn goat. The only way to milk her is directly from behind. While this works fine for Don, who at six foot three  can look over her hind quarters, it is more of an adventure for the much shorter me. I am eye to eye and inches from her tail, which thankfully raises just before she, er um, to put it delicately, lets go. As I leaned back, holding the bucket I started laughing. For most people, this is their  Monday reality, trying to hold their milk while the world shits on them, not about boundless exploration of the glorious day, as with the baby goats. Ah well.
   As for their entrance into the world, it was not as I expected. Mama was 4 days late and had a labor lasting about 5 hours or so. She wanted me with her and leaned companionably against me during her labor pains. We expected noisy Matilda to be loud, late, and possibly anxious.
   4 days before her due date she surprised expectations however. I was working on the computer before dinner and had the baby monitor turned on. I could hear the quiet typical goat sounds as I typed. Donnie called down for dinner and throughout the meal we discussed her possible due date and the upcoming preparations.
    A short while after supper however, I heard a faint little moan. Giddy I ran out to the barn, calling over my shoulder to whoever was in the house that labor was starting.
    I arrived at the goat loafing area ( a roomy 3 sided roof covered protected from the elements area, that allows for plenty of fresh air) I arrived just in time to see Tango fall into the hay to join his still moist covered sister, Patty Duke.
   Matilda the goat looked stunned, the babies more so, and I most of all! Careening back into the house I grabbed towels and shouted for help.
   In a scene reminiscent from the I Love Lucy show we all stumbled over ourselves trying to do everything at once. Mama and Galaxy remained outside the loafing area looking interested and I believe were highly entertained by us if not by the birth. Scooping up Tango I began to scrub his lovely black, gold, and white body. (Thoughtful of him to wear the Boston Bruins colors, don't you think?) I then passed off the little guy, to Julie I think, and grabbed his sister who was spitting and choking a bit on the birth detris.
   "Mom is she having another one?" Julie asked in some excitement. Having cleared Patti Duke's nasal passages and passed her off. I grabbed Matilda's collar. "We need to get them all into the nursery." Well Matilda was not convinced of my wisdom. She looked dazed and uncomfortable. But the larger goats were trying to crowd in and Rosie the sheep and Capella the toddler were now trying to help in the delivery!
   Moving sideways like some weird crab, we somehow got Matilda, the babies, myself, and the baby holders out of the loafing pen and into the nursery. We had a few moments to carefully check out the first two babies, admire their beauty, and marvel at how tiny they looked compared to Capella. She was over 9 pounds at birth, these 2 little ones were just over 6.
  Matilda however appeared to be struggling and giving my arm a quick scrub I reached to see what was up with the next baby. In some horror I realized I could only feel one foot and a nose. Babies are suppose to dive out feet first, two feet first. Where was the other foot?
   Gingerly reaching in I tried to control my own adrenaline surge. During a goat delivery a bubble filled with amniotic fluid first appears. Inside 2 feet followed by a nose can be seen and felt. To do an internal on a goat is odd because it is like inspecting through a water balloon. Reaching further in I found the left foot, folded back at the knee. Just as she began another strong contraction, my fingers hooked behind the knee and I urged it forward. I should have waiting until the poor thing had finished her contraction and she moaned quite loudly, poor darling. With a tremendous push to rid herself of her baby and my hand, she sent that baby flying into my chest and I caught Twist before he hit the hay.
  Pretty remarkable isn't it? 3 new lives on this earth in less than 15 minutes. Talk about the miracle of birth!