An experiment in fostering

At the same time that I took the kids, I separated Violet's bucklings and started the weaning process.  I was going to do it last week, but delayed it because I hate milking Violet.  She's a first time freshener and has a "2 finger teat" and I still don't have my milking machine put together, nor does my Henry Milker work on her.  Now was the time, though.  That evening, I let them nurse again, and for the last time on Sunday morning. Sunday afternoon, I put the new kids in with Violet, and as Shawn held her while she ate Chaffhaye and grain, I guided their little mouths to her teats.  It took a few times, but they finally latched on.  Ah! here was the milk bar they'd been looking for all along!  Every 2 hours, Shawn and I came out, fed Violet, and guided the kids to the milk station.

Next morning, I tied Violet up while I made sure the goatlings could find their own way, helping only when necessary.  By the end of day 2, they had it down.  By mid-day, all I had to do was hold Violet, no food in hand, and she'd stand while they nursed.  She wouldn't stand without being held, but she wasn't aggressive, either.  Progress!

The one thing that I felt held her back was hearing her bucklings.  They would call, she would answer.  It must have been confusing for her to hear her kids calling, and yet here were these kids suckling on her.  I posted a request online to see if anyone local could take the bucklings for a week or two.

On day 4, Wednesday, I put Violet and the kids into a small enclosure with an electric web fence.  Oh, how hard it is to hold those tiny babies close to the fence until they reach out and touch it!  But how necessary if they're going to learn about electric fences without jumping forward and entangling themselves!  It was wonderful to see them sniffing the grass, playing on the stone steps, then curling up together when they were tired.  Violet was still walking away when they wanted to nurse, so I was still holding her every 2 to 3 hours so they could eat.

Midafternoon came and Violet asked to go in, so I carefully carried the kids, one by one, into the barn, then led her back.  She was not happy.  She wanted out, to choose her own place in the barn or near the barn, or in the pasture, or wherever, but not be locked up with no choice at all! 
Sorry, Violet.  The more time you spend with them, the more likely you are to accept them as your own.

Thursday was a repeat of Wednesday, and the hollering back and forth of Violet and her bucklings was getting me down.  I was convinced that their presence was the final impediment to her truly fostering the new kids.  Thursday night I got an email from another goat breeder in Morrill, offering to keep my bucklings for a couple of weeks so she couldn't hear them.  Today, I packed them into the car--my Goatmobile--and off we went.

Young goats are very resilient.  They took the car trip in stride, settled in to their new digs quickly, and didn't bat an eye.  "Hey! This is cool", they seemed to say.  We like adventure!"

Violet and the kids went into the buck pen, now empty, where there was grass and shelter from the sun.  In the morning, Violet was inside the shelter and the kids were curled up outside.  A couple of  hours later, the kids were inside the shelter and Violet was lying outside.  By early afternoon, the kids were at the back of the shelter, and Violet was also inside.  Progress.  All this time I was still going in every 2-3 hours and holding her so they could nurse, because she was still walking away.  I told her, "Violet, if you want to go out to pasture again, you have to be a mother to them. I promise you that if you take care of them, and I can trust you to watch out for them, you can get out of this small enclosure."  I hoped that would encourage her and show her what was at stake.

Tonight, though, oh tonight!  I went out around 10:00 to feed her a bit of Chaffhaye so they could nurse, while I prepared the feeders for the morning milking.  When I'd finished, I walked back to the stall to turn out the light.  There was Violet, standing looking at me, the kids nursing away, and the feeder across the stall.  She looked briefly back at one of them, touched him with her nose, and gazed at me again.  Success!  GOOD Violet!  You just came that much closer to joining the herd again!

New kids

Bella kidded on Saturday, two healthy strong kids.

I don't know where my head was.  I felt her ligaments while she was eating her morning feed and they had completely relaxed.  "Oh," I said aloud, "looks like she'll be going soon.  I'll have to check her later."  Then I completed spaced it out until early afternoon.  Shawn and I were standing near the barn and he was chiding me because I "freak out too easily".  I heard a loud bawl, and took off running toward the barn. "See?" he exclaimed, "there you go again!".  I hollered back over my shoulder, "No, I'm not!  I have a doe ready to kid and I think she just dropped the first one!"  

There in the middle of the communal stall (instead of the nice, clean stall I'd prepared), was a wet, gooey baby.  I ran in, grabbed the kid, and called to Shawn, "I'll be right back!"  Into the house I sprinted, grabbed a towel, and went back outside.  There I laid the kid in the sunny grass and toweled him (for it was a buck) dry, vigorously rubbing, and clearing his nose and mouth of any fluids.  I made note of the time and estimated that the kid had been born at 1:10.  I picked him up and carried him in to my mother, who continued toweling him down while I trotted off to the barn.

I got there just in time to see the second kid being born, completely enclosed in the sack; the water hadn't even broken.  Before Bella gave the final thrust, I broke the sack and water gushed out.  Thank goodness!  Now that baby could start breathing, and none too soon!  A moment later she was on the ground, and I grabbed her and took her away, leaving Bella bemused.

The biggest problem I have with CAE positive does is that I have to remove the kids or chances are they'll contract the disease.  These two kids are not going to have CAE, because they'll never consume infected colostrum or milk, but does love their kids, and it's hard to take them away.

Bella was fine the first day, gave 6 cups of colostrum, which I heat treated to kill the virus, but the next day, the bawling began.  I gave her Ignatia, a homeopathic remedy that's very good for grief, but she still bawled herself hoarse.  By the end of the day, she sounded like one of my neighbor's cows.  Today she's better, but still blubbering a bit.  Though she never really saw and bonded with those kids, at some level she still knows they're missing.

Lovely, lovely dandelions

When I was 21 and newly married, we moved from California to Iowa, where my husband had grown up.  One of my fondest memories is the fields and fields of yellow, dandelion carpets stretching across the landscape.  Originally planted by the Amana society, the dandelions were used for dandelion wine.  How could people say that dandelions were pests and weeds?  Just look how lovely they were!

Later I learned that the much-maligned dandelion, Taraxacum officinale, is a wonderful food, herb, and medicinal plant.  I've been eating dandelion blossoms and leaves for years.  I love the slightly bitter leaves in a salad or steamed like spinach.  The flowers are wonderful sautéed with beaten egg and feta cheese, or stir-fried with fresh asparagus and fiddleheads.

We have a bumper crop of dandelions this year, and the flowers are both copious and large.

I picked several earlier this week that spanned two finger-widths.  I say I picked them, but actually I snipped the petals with as little of the sepals as I could manage, and filled a large bowl full of petals, all for the joy of dandelion blossom syrup.

Dandelion petals in the bowl

If you've never had it, you have missed one of life's little delights.  Many recipes call for lemon or orange peel and juice; I prefer just the taste of the dandelion itself, so I leave out the citrus. It took about a half hour to fill the bowl, but the time was spent in the afternoon sunshine on a warm and breezy May afternoon, and I got to watch a native bee buzzing from blossom to blossom gathering pollen as I gathered flowers.  I had a bee's eye view, one might say.

Once I had enough, the petals were covered with water and brought to a boil in a gallon pot, then covered and left to steep overnight.

Steeping the petals

This morning, I drained the blossoms in a sieve, squeezing the petals of all their liquid.

I measured 82 ounces of the liquid by weight, added the same weight of evaporated cane syrup, and heated it slowly while I stirred the sugar

Once it reached a boil, I let it simmer for 2-3 hours, until it reached about 215° F, a nice rich syrup, then hot packed it into jelly jars.  Of course, I left a jar out for immediate use, but oh! it's so nice to see that syrup lined up and waiting!

Dandelion Blossom Syrup is delicious. It's hard to describe the taste, at once light and sweet. One friend that I let try it says "It tastes like sunshine." 

The next day I made another batch.  Good thing, too, because the day after that the rains came, and they're staying for a while.

Kent State University

43 years ago today, 4 students were shot down by the National Guard on the campus of Kent State University, Ohio.  I will never forget the stunned disbelief that I felt, and 43 years later, if feels like yesterday.  So much has happened since then, so much government corruption and power grabs.  As I sit here tonight, I hear Eric Holder saying, in answer to the question, "Will our troops ever fire on U.S. citizens?", "Absolutely not."  But it has already happened.  I hear the voices of government saying, "The Military Commission Act is not going to apply to U.S. Citizens", but that, too, has already happened:  The Boston bomber is a naturalized citizen, entitled to a civilian trial, not a military trial.  Should Timothy McVeigh have been labeled a terrorist and denied a trial?

As I remember the Kent State shootings, I'm heartsick.  Too much has happened, too much liberty lost.  Lest we forget, lest we forget...

Life with kids

They're cute, no doubt about it.  There's probably nothing cuter than a bouncing goat kid, except maybe a few of them together.  However!  There's only so many times one can be jumped on before it gets very old, very fast.  I mean, these kids are going to grow up to be full size goats, and what's cute now will be downright dangerous then. This week was training time for kids.

Every time they came near, my knees came up, I wiggled and squirmed, and I'm sure if someone had walked in unannounced, I'd have been a sight.  It took a few days, but my babies are learning that I'm not one of the herd and they can't jump on me without repercussions.

Kids grow quickly.  It's hard to believe they were tiny, tottering babes less than four weeks ago  They're into everything, and since the gates have wide gaps, they're out playing everywhere.  The large stone at the edge of the yard is a favorite.  Can we climb it?  Or can we not?  Up they race it to see if they can reach the top, balancing precariously before losing their balance and jumping (or sliding) off.

They've become the unofficial welcoming committee for all visitors to the farm, and most of the time the world is their oyster.  What?  Stay in the paddock or pasture with the others?  Don't be silly!

That's not to say they're always out.  No, there are alllurements within as well.  It's wonderful just how attractive a wooden pallet can be for a tired kid.

Offally good

I was at a friend's house a few weeks ago, and she offered me a few organ meats, called offal in other locales, to take home:  liver, heart, and tongue, to be specific.  I gladly accepted.  My grandparents were farmers, and they wasted nothing.  Scrapple and head cheese were common fare, and I loved second helpings on kidneys and liver.

Yesterday found me in a bit of a quandry.  What should I cook for supper?  I betook myself to the freezer to ponder the situation.  Aha!  Tongue!  Just the thing!  I dumped it unceremoniously into a pot and covered it with water.  When it had cooked enough to thaw, I emptied the water, stuck a few cloves in various locations, cut up and onion and a carrot, and added a couple of fresh bay leaves and some dried thyme. 

Cooking tongue

The afternoon turned out to be a bit hectic, so I picked up a pizza for a quick meal and let the tongue simmer all evening.

Today I reheated the tongue, pulled off the skin, then sliced it and served it with potatoes and a horseradish mustard. As I savored every bite, I thought of my friend gratefully  

Sliced and ready to serve

Ahhh!  Her loss, my gain.  I'm so glad for my rural roots.

Feeding bottle babies

I admit that it's far easier to dam-raise kids rather than bottle feed.  However, there are sound reasons to bottle raise.  I own three of them:  CAE-positive does.  These does are healthy and strong, though Leah does freshen with congested udder, which resolves pretty quickly using homeopathic remedies, but I really don't want their kids contracting the disease (Caprine Athritis Encephalitis) when it can so easily be avoided.

I started out using 16 oz pop bottles with Pritchard nipples. As I was mulling over how to keep the milk warm while feeding one kid at a time, I perceived that a gloved potholder would hold the warmth admirably.  They gave an added bonus of fitting into a gallon pot in such a way that nothing fell over, as the bottles were wont to do without that extra help.  And the kids thought it was great fun to sniff around in there!

Snowball checking out dinner

After 3 days, I surmised that I really had to do this differently.  Besides the three that were on either end of the feeding line nibbling and climbing on me, I was soon going to run out of time.  I'd thought about a lambar before, but now I got serious.

I took a 5 gallon food-grade bucket and drilled 1/2 inch holes in it,

bought lambar nipples and food-grade clear plastic tubing, flutter valves so the milk, once sucked into the tubes, wouldn't fall back into the bucket, a metal bucket ring to hold the bucket, and began rigging the lambar.  

Red flutter valves, gray lambar nipples, and clear plastic tubing

Ha!  Easier said than done!

The red flutter valves was 1/4 inch, and the inside diameter of the tubing was 1/4 inch  Clearly, the tubing had to be stretched.  I tried several different ways, but the way that worked the best was heating a Phillips screwdriver heat and inserting it into the tube just far enough and long enough to stretch the tubing and yet not melt it.  Finally I perfected the technique:  heat the screwdriver tip just enough to warm the tubing and insert the screwdriver, 

Heating the plastic tube end

then warm the tubing over the flame to encourage the stretch, let it cool slowly, and then, before it's completely cool, remove the screwdriver and quickly insert the flutter valve.

Getting the length of the tubes was a bit tricky, too.  Because I wanted to monitor how much each kid was getting, I poured the milk rations into separate quart bottles.

Once the bottles were filled, I could put a lid on the bucket, carry it to the barn, and feed all four kids at once.  

At least, that was the theory.  In practice, it took another 3 or 4 days. First I had to switch the Pritchard nipples to the grey nipples and get them used to that, then they had to be standing and nursing, rather than sitting in my lap.  Once they reached that point, I could transfer them to the lambar.  A couple caught on immediately, the other two took some coaxing.  Dally, true to her name (actually, that's how she came by her name), dilly-dallied and was the last to embrace the lambar.  Did I mention that the bucket holder is welded to an old tire?  That raises the bucket to the perfect height for kids.  Works great!

I don't use the quart jars to track their feediings anymore.  Now I fill the jars with water to displace and raise the level of the milk, making it easier for the kids to suck, and I pour the milk directly into the plastic bucket, enough to last a couple of meals.  I check it mid-afternoon and add milk then; if it isn't empty, it's pretty darned close.  They've actually backed off eating as much.  They know it's there, and I've slowly dropped the temperature of the milk so they eat more naturally. Instead of guzzling 16 ounces all at once, they're more likely to have snacks throughout the day, just as they would were they nursing their dams.

I watched Violet and her bucklings today.  They nurse for a minute or two, and then she walks off.  "That's enough, boys.  You can have more later."

I love the lambar.  I still check to make sure they're eating on demand, and when I find it empty, I know they are.  Sometimes I encourage them to nurse while I'm there, but usually they're already full.  Today I rigged the stall door so they can go in and out and play outside.  Life is good.