As another winter storm looms on the darkening gray horizon, a gloomy day on Rainbow Gate Farm is almost over.
One of our aged dairy goat does delivered twins this morning, three weeks too early. The twins, both girls, were born dead. They both looked like the goat in the picture. Their sire was a La Mancha - the breed with the tiny gopher ears.
"Grandma", the doe who'd given birth, was lying in a corner of the barn, thrashing and moaning. She is an older goat, about eight years in age. Although the twins were born early, my first suspicion was "Milk Fever."
"Milk Fever" occurs when the pregnant or "fresh" (having just given birth) animal cannot compensate for the large amounts of calcium being demanded by the body to produce the milk. As the blood levels of calcium drop, the animal becomes lethargic and then begins to convulse. If the condition is not treated, death will follow within hours.
Hurrying to the milk house where we keep our animal health drugs, I ran back to her with a bottle of Calcium Carbonate, a needle and syringe.I injected twelve cc's (milliliters) of the calcium underneath her skin and then continued until I reached the maximum dose of fifty cc's.
Within a few minutes, she scrambled to her feet. We offered her warm water and grain. She ate and drank, but she will need further care, to be sure she does not relapse.
It always amazes me to see a goat recover from milk fever. They can be literally dying, and within minutes of receiving the calcium into their body, they are standing up, eating and drinking. It reminds me of how delicate the balance between good health and illness can be.
We will begin milking Grandma in the hope of encouraging her to "come into milk", but she will probably have a shortened lactation time due to her age.We are expecting the other does to begin 'kidding' (delivering their babies) in two to three weeks time.
Our old vet used to say, "If you're gonna have livestock, you're gonna have dead stock." It's a sad fact of farming.Within a few months, our entire farm will be teeming with new life, warm sunshine, and green grass. We will have baby goats, ducklings, chicks, turkey poults, kittens, and foals.
I'll try to keep that in mind as I head back outside through the snow drifts tonight and pray the next time I see baby goats in my barn, they will be standing on wobbly legs next to their mama, trying out their new lungs.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Jingle Bell Goats - An Ice Storm Hits Our Farm
The ice storm sweeping across the entire mid-west United States yesterday, hit Rainbow Gate Farm with a vengeance we rarely see this early in the season. We awoke to the sound of ice hitting the windows like millions of tiny firecrackers exploding on the fourth of July!
Staying warm and dry wasn't exactly an option with three hundred goats, twenty-five horses and over one hundred chickens, ducks and turkeys waiting to be fed and watered, so we bundled up and faced the storm.
Our five-month-old Australian Shepherd pup, Sparky, thought it was Christmas. With his thick coat, he romped across the yard, oblivious to the sting of the driving ice, grabbing mouthfuls of frosty snow from the ground. His bright spirits made it hard not to laugh, although I took care to face away from the direction of the wind.
No more outside frolicking for the goats this year. The wind whipping through their open door sounded like a freight train, bringing nothing but arctic air as it roared through the barn. A few heavy pieces of plywood and some long screws soon took care of that. Sparky made sure all the "girls" stayed on the right side of the door while we closed up the hole. Our horses were standing inside the open end of their building, snow blankets covering their backs. They greeted us with friendly nickers and neighs, knowing our presence meant their breakfast of hay would arrive any moment. The pregnant and waddling goats on the opposite side of the barn likewise sent a chorus of bleats our way.
Some of them hurried to the gate where they would usually go to the holding area to be milked. "Sorry, girls," I told them. With only two months to go until their babies are born, we have "dried-off" the entire herd. Most of the does dried off naturally, but a few of them were still milking about six pounds a day.
In a few days we will bring all the goats through the parlor one last time and milk out the does whose bags are tight with milk. This will prevent them from developing mastitis, an painful infection in their udders, which can ruin them for milking forever.
After feeding the dairy barn, we treked across the yard to the "upper" and "lower" barns, where our younger horses, mares and foals, poultry and young goats are housed. The four girls in the photograph greeted me as I walked into their barn. With almost one hundred of them in the building, they stay warm and dry. It is hard to believe these doelings are only nine months old. They were born this spring weighing an average of six to seven pounds. Now they are pregnant with their own babies and will give birth in February and March. You might notice two of the doelings in the picture have almost no ears. No, they didn't freeze off, although it does happen. They are both "La Mancha" doelings, an American breed of dairy goat with a gene that produces tiny little ears. Some people don't like the way they look, but I think they're cute. It's actually an advantage in our climate. No ears to freeze!
The chickens, ducks and turkeys are all running together in one big room for the winter, upstairs above the doelings. The other day I spread a layer of fresh sawdust in their area and it's the first thing I smell when I open the door. One glance at their water tubs tells me it's warm enough for them because the water is not frozen, despite the outside temperature. I fill their water tubs and feeders, collect a couple of blue-green eggs laid by our Araucana hens, and head back down the steps.
In the lower barn a mare nickers from the first stall and is answered by the colt standing in the back stall. Snapping a lead rope onto her halter I take her down the alleyway and reunite her with her baby, the colt who just called out to her. He is being weaned, but we do it over a period of a week or more. We separate them into adjacent stalls, then put them together again at night. After a few more days, we move the mare further down the barn and wait twenty-four hours before putting them back together. This prevents either the mare or foal from becoming too distressed with the weaning process. The foal is nine months old and needs to be halter broken and educated. In the wild, his mother would drive him away in the spring when her new colt was born, but it isn't practical in captivity. Once the separation is complete, we will put the colt in with another colt who is already weaned. Within a few days they will become the best of buddies, and Mom will be forgotten.
Pulling my ski-mask over my face to prevent being assaulted by stinging ice, I head back toward the house. Sparky has been waiting for me and he continues to cavort in the snow and ice as we walk. Then, he stops and looks across the field beyond our home. I follow his gaze to see a huge coyote hurrying along the crest of the hill. The coyote pauses and glances over his shoulder and then across at us. He dashes a few more yards and stops again. Deer hunting season opened up today, and no doubt he's been flushed from his normal territory by hunters searching for deer. That explains both his unusual daytime appearance and his nervous behavior.Grabbing the digital camera, I aim. The camera blinks "Card Full." Scrolling through the images, I delete a couple and raise my camera once more. I get my picture but he has traveled further away and it's not going to be much of a photo.
I make sure Sparky comes into the garage with me when we reach the house. As brave as he is barking at the coyote, he is still a pup. If he follows the coyote into the field and timber, he might not make it back home and I'm not taking any chances.I come back inside and check the computer for the latest weather report. The entire state of Iowa has disappeared under the blue for snow and purple for ice color code of the Doppler radar. We spend the rest of the afternoon under a blanket watching movies. Even though our house is a warm sixty-eight degrees, it takes a bit of thawing after spending time outside in the cold and evening chores will be here too soon.A late afternoon check of the incubator in the back room reveals some suspicious peeping sounds and one egg that's rocking back and forth across the wire floor. Twenty-seven Pekin ducklings are due to hatch tomorrow and it sounds like they're right on target. I turn the light off and plug the candling light in. Shining the light into the eggs, the duckling's beaks can be seen in the top air-sac section of the egg. Breaking through this membranes to start breathing the air within the egg is the first step toward a successful hatch.Stay tuned! The 'Fluffy Yellow Christmas Ducklings' story is coming soon!
Staying warm and dry wasn't exactly an option with three hundred goats, twenty-five horses and over one hundred chickens, ducks and turkeys waiting to be fed and watered, so we bundled up and faced the storm.
Our five-month-old Australian Shepherd pup, Sparky, thought it was Christmas. With his thick coat, he romped across the yard, oblivious to the sting of the driving ice, grabbing mouthfuls of frosty snow from the ground. His bright spirits made it hard not to laugh, although I took care to face away from the direction of the wind.
No more outside frolicking for the goats this year. The wind whipping through their open door sounded like a freight train, bringing nothing but arctic air as it roared through the barn. A few heavy pieces of plywood and some long screws soon took care of that. Sparky made sure all the "girls" stayed on the right side of the door while we closed up the hole. Our horses were standing inside the open end of their building, snow blankets covering their backs. They greeted us with friendly nickers and neighs, knowing our presence meant their breakfast of hay would arrive any moment. The pregnant and waddling goats on the opposite side of the barn likewise sent a chorus of bleats our way.
Some of them hurried to the gate where they would usually go to the holding area to be milked. "Sorry, girls," I told them. With only two months to go until their babies are born, we have "dried-off" the entire herd. Most of the does dried off naturally, but a few of them were still milking about six pounds a day.
In a few days we will bring all the goats through the parlor one last time and milk out the does whose bags are tight with milk. This will prevent them from developing mastitis, an painful infection in their udders, which can ruin them for milking forever.
After feeding the dairy barn, we treked across the yard to the "upper" and "lower" barns, where our younger horses, mares and foals, poultry and young goats are housed. The four girls in the photograph greeted me as I walked into their barn. With almost one hundred of them in the building, they stay warm and dry. It is hard to believe these doelings are only nine months old. They were born this spring weighing an average of six to seven pounds. Now they are pregnant with their own babies and will give birth in February and March. You might notice two of the doelings in the picture have almost no ears. No, they didn't freeze off, although it does happen. They are both "La Mancha" doelings, an American breed of dairy goat with a gene that produces tiny little ears. Some people don't like the way they look, but I think they're cute. It's actually an advantage in our climate. No ears to freeze!
The chickens, ducks and turkeys are all running together in one big room for the winter, upstairs above the doelings. The other day I spread a layer of fresh sawdust in their area and it's the first thing I smell when I open the door. One glance at their water tubs tells me it's warm enough for them because the water is not frozen, despite the outside temperature. I fill their water tubs and feeders, collect a couple of blue-green eggs laid by our Araucana hens, and head back down the steps.
In the lower barn a mare nickers from the first stall and is answered by the colt standing in the back stall. Snapping a lead rope onto her halter I take her down the alleyway and reunite her with her baby, the colt who just called out to her. He is being weaned, but we do it over a period of a week or more. We separate them into adjacent stalls, then put them together again at night. After a few more days, we move the mare further down the barn and wait twenty-four hours before putting them back together. This prevents either the mare or foal from becoming too distressed with the weaning process. The foal is nine months old and needs to be halter broken and educated. In the wild, his mother would drive him away in the spring when her new colt was born, but it isn't practical in captivity. Once the separation is complete, we will put the colt in with another colt who is already weaned. Within a few days they will become the best of buddies, and Mom will be forgotten.
Pulling my ski-mask over my face to prevent being assaulted by stinging ice, I head back toward the house. Sparky has been waiting for me and he continues to cavort in the snow and ice as we walk. Then, he stops and looks across the field beyond our home. I follow his gaze to see a huge coyote hurrying along the crest of the hill. The coyote pauses and glances over his shoulder and then across at us. He dashes a few more yards and stops again. Deer hunting season opened up today, and no doubt he's been flushed from his normal territory by hunters searching for deer. That explains both his unusual daytime appearance and his nervous behavior.Grabbing the digital camera, I aim. The camera blinks "Card Full." Scrolling through the images, I delete a couple and raise my camera once more. I get my picture but he has traveled further away and it's not going to be much of a photo.
I make sure Sparky comes into the garage with me when we reach the house. As brave as he is barking at the coyote, he is still a pup. If he follows the coyote into the field and timber, he might not make it back home and I'm not taking any chances.I come back inside and check the computer for the latest weather report. The entire state of Iowa has disappeared under the blue for snow and purple for ice color code of the Doppler radar. We spend the rest of the afternoon under a blanket watching movies. Even though our house is a warm sixty-eight degrees, it takes a bit of thawing after spending time outside in the cold and evening chores will be here too soon.A late afternoon check of the incubator in the back room reveals some suspicious peeping sounds and one egg that's rocking back and forth across the wire floor. Twenty-seven Pekin ducklings are due to hatch tomorrow and it sounds like they're right on target. I turn the light off and plug the candling light in. Shining the light into the eggs, the duckling's beaks can be seen in the top air-sac section of the egg. Breaking through this membranes to start breathing the air within the egg is the first step toward a successful hatch.Stay tuned! The 'Fluffy Yellow Christmas Ducklings' story is coming soon!
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