Since we last left off, there have been some nasty flues and colds going around the island and though we've been eating our fruits and veggies, trying to stay healthy, I have been out of it for the last few weeks, and Tim is fighting off the pathogens. Speaking of pathogens, around the time Alice returned to Alaska and we fell ill, I started EMT training, learning to be an emergency medic as seen on ambulances and as friendly citizens teaching CPR to high schoolers and such. The training has been going well with a good cohort of fellow soon-to-be EMTs.
The medical experience I'd really like to have right now is delivering my first kid - goat kid that is. After being doubtful Petunia was pregnant for the last 4 1/2 months, she started showing swelling in all the right places, looking uncomfortable, showing all the vague and goat-y signs of maybe being pregnant! So I sprang into action. Not wanting to get my hopes up only for disappointment, I hadn't finished the milking parlor of the barn - mostly I hadn't built a milking stand. But with kids looking possibly imminent, suggesting a future of goat milking this spring.
With the large, borrowed milking stand out of the way and food cans stacked, there is now a nice space for kidding. I made a shelf to fit on top of the hay holder, the sink is cleaned out, fresh hay on the floor and we're ready to go.
With much help from the curious goats, I replaced the over-sized miking stand with a minimally sized built in milking shelf complete with a feed holder perfectly fitted to their food scoop.
Petunia and Esther have been practicing the milking routine every morning since we made the changes, getting ready for that lucky day sometime in the next week or month or year or two when my goats start making milk.
Just in case that birth really is soon, I assembled the Goat Birth Bag: filled with all the goodness necessary for any vetting and midwifing emergency! Going through the bag, we can talk a little about what I expect from a birth. First of all, the signs leading up to birth are super vague and unreliable and generally goat-y; things like "she may seem agitated, or more friendly. She may seem more or less active. The tendons by her tail may relax, or not. She may start producing milk and filling her utter... or not." Signs and symptoms of impending delivery can begin a month before the birth or, you know, as a pair of tiny feel stick out and give it away. Goats really aren't very obvious.
"Iodine and shot glass for sterilizing
Dental floss and scissors for cutting cords
Suction bulb and scissors for after birth
Exam gloves and lube for intervention
Feeding syringe and bottle for baby
Molasses (1/4c:2gal warm water) for mom"
In my imagination, we will notice these signs of impending birth and notice some gooey slimy discharge, suggestive of birth, and bring Petunia into our clean and well-prepared birthing room. Once there, we will check on her every half hour, or just hang out in the barn with her, though being too close can sometimes slow labor, so checking in until things start to pick up is probably good. Eventually, her agitation should develop into the rhythmic pushing of labor and we will watch for little white hooves protruding through the amniotic sac and out of Petunia. The baby should be in the "dive" position, with feet forward and down, ancles bending down and towards mom. Alternately, baby can be in the reverse dive position, with little back feet sticking out soles up and bending up and towards mom. If any other body part but a foot starts coming out first, it should be returned and replaced (gently push that head back in a bit and see if you can persuade a little foot to come out instead). Gently pulling one foot and then the other slightly down towards mom as she pushes can help get the legs straight and streamline the process. Also making sure the feet match the head and no one is trying to cut in line is important. That would be another return and replace situation. We want one baby at a time coming out with a matching pair of either front or back feet but not one of each. If I need to manually assist, that would be the first use of the antibacterial soap, warm water, and iodine as I scrub up and coat my arms in orange for health and safety.
Once the baby is out, we try to catch her (always hope for girl babies. They make milk or eggs or more babies and don't need to be put in the freezer or altered like those boys. I think girl goats are easier to sell and sell for more too) on a nice clean towel, wipe the goop off her breathing parts, possibly give a little suction to those breathing parts, then present the still sticky and wet baby to Petunia so she can bond through cleaning. Eventually, find the time to steal the baby back, tie off and cut the umbilical cord at about an inch or two and dip in a shot glass of iodine until thoroughly coated, then stick the baby back up under Petunia, aiming for latching on to her teats and getting some breakfast.
When all the babies and placentas (never pull on a placenta!) have made their way out, Petunia gets some warm molasses water and whatever else she wants to eat while the babies nurse and everyone rests.
Maybe today will be the day! We will keep hoping.
In the other half of the barn, we have a much easier to read perspective mom. The first night I see a hen sleeping in the nest box, I mark it on the calendar and three weeks later the eggs hatch and we have new chicks. These ones are due Monday the 23rd.
I've been able to start selling eggs and am up to two every-other-weekly customers plus an occasional dozen here and there. We're getting about 5 or 6 eggs a day which is... a quarter of the way to my goal but a good start.
My friend, Alisha, is still visiting as she waits to find her next Nannying position and has been continuing to photograph, bake, love the animals, and help out around the farm. We also worked on a sewing project and finished a 1950's dress for her.
