It's quiet around Rainbow Gate Farm right now. So, instead of boring you with the details of uneventful chores, I'm drawing on my FanStory.com archives and digging out stories I wrote earlier this year. Reminds me I'm likely to be digging myself out of snow drifts here in a few months, but meanwhile. . .
"Fluffy And His Five Mothers"
. . . Fluffy came into this world on the heels of his dead brother. Not an amazing way to start life, but he didn't care. Within minutes of being born, he struggled to his feet, and started searching for warm milk.
He soon found a soft udder and began to nurse. His mother bleated and nudged him, but Fluffy kept right on drinking . . . on Hershey, the wrong doe.
Some of our goats could care less when their kids are taken away, but others have strong maternal instincts. Taking their babies away is the least favorite part of my job description.
Those does often decide to adopt another doe's baby. I've even seen them knock the real mother out of the way as soon as the kid hits the ground, so they can take over the newborn's care.
Usually, our baby goats are raised in a heated trailer nearby, where they have access to automatic feeders providing warm milk-replacer around the clock and they quickly adopt us as their two-legged mothers. Right now, Fluffy happens to be the only one we have. The other seven hundred should be arriving any day.
I decided that rather than heating the entire trailer for just one kid, I'd let Fluffy stay with his mother, er, mothers, in the fresh goat pen.
There are five does in there who claim him as their own. Fluffy thinks life is wonderful. More milk than he could possibly drink and five warm bodies to snuggle against.
My eight-year-old daughter, Amber, christened him 'Fluffy' and although his lot should have been heading down the road to the meat market at the tender age of five months, it seems fate has intervened once more. Between Amber and his five devoted mothers, I don't have a snowball's chance in you-know-where of sending him away.
Fluffy will have to endure being castrated in a few months time. Male goats left 'entire' for breeding are one of the most terrible smelling creatures on earth.
At this rate, I may have to quit milking goats and start a sanctuary.
Showing posts with label farm animals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label farm animals. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Chicks Ahoy!
The sound of cheeping greeted me this morning as I walked downstairs to start chores. Grabbing the flashlight, I peeked inside the cabinet incubator sitting at the base of the stairs, and sure enough, five Black-Copper Maran chicks were waddling around inside.
The Black Copper Maran is a French breed, and very rare, so the hatch is exciting! The hens lay a dark brown, almost chocolate-colored egg. I bought these eggs from a breeder in another state, who shipped them to me to hatch. Many folks who visit here are amazed to learn that an egg can be sent through the mail and still grow a chick three weeks later.
These chicks are coal black with white chests, and feathered feet -- cute as buttons. I have six older Maran chicks already outside in the hen house, so these little guys will be joining them in a few weeks.
Four more eggs to go, and one is already pipping the shell, meaning its little beak has broken through. Now it must twist and turn all the way around the shell, continuing to break it open. As tempting as it becomes to want to help a struggling chick, being able to hatch by themselves seems to be an essential key to survival. If the chick isn't strong enough to hatch, there is something wrong, and helping it out of the shell makes for a miserable time watching it slowly die. Don't ask me how I know.
The chicks hatch soaking wet, and will remain in the incubator for the rest of the day, drying off. Right before hatching, the chicks absorb the remainder of the egg yolk into their bellies. When a hen hatches chicks naturally in a nest, she often waits on the nest for several days waiting for all the eggs to hatch. The first ones to hatch must wait for the latecomers. This will provide them with all the nutrition they need for the next two days.
Tonight, we'll put the dry chicks under a heatlamp, with water and chick-starter food in dishes nearby. The heatlamp takes the place of the real mother, and the chicks' natural instinct to find food and water will take care of the rest!
In five short months these tiny chicks will be out in the barn laying eggs or crowing with the sunrise, and starting the cycle all over again. It never grows old watching it happen. Guess that's why I live on a farm!
The Black Copper Maran is a French breed, and very rare, so the hatch is exciting! The hens lay a dark brown, almost chocolate-colored egg. I bought these eggs from a breeder in another state, who shipped them to me to hatch. Many folks who visit here are amazed to learn that an egg can be sent through the mail and still grow a chick three weeks later.
These chicks are coal black with white chests, and feathered feet -- cute as buttons. I have six older Maran chicks already outside in the hen house, so these little guys will be joining them in a few weeks.
Four more eggs to go, and one is already pipping the shell, meaning its little beak has broken through. Now it must twist and turn all the way around the shell, continuing to break it open. As tempting as it becomes to want to help a struggling chick, being able to hatch by themselves seems to be an essential key to survival. If the chick isn't strong enough to hatch, there is something wrong, and helping it out of the shell makes for a miserable time watching it slowly die. Don't ask me how I know.
The chicks hatch soaking wet, and will remain in the incubator for the rest of the day, drying off. Right before hatching, the chicks absorb the remainder of the egg yolk into their bellies. When a hen hatches chicks naturally in a nest, she often waits on the nest for several days waiting for all the eggs to hatch. The first ones to hatch must wait for the latecomers. This will provide them with all the nutrition they need for the next two days.
Tonight, we'll put the dry chicks under a heatlamp, with water and chick-starter food in dishes nearby. The heatlamp takes the place of the real mother, and the chicks' natural instinct to find food and water will take care of the rest!
In five short months these tiny chicks will be out in the barn laying eggs or crowing with the sunrise, and starting the cycle all over again. It never grows old watching it happen. Guess that's why I live on a farm!
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
The Adventures Of Sophie The Ferret
Rats are not my favorite creatures on this planet. Recently, several large specimens decided to join us here on Rainbow Gate Farm. Ugh!
"I have a great idea. Buy a ferret!" one of our friends suggested. "They hunt rats and kill them, and any remaining ones will leave the farm."
So began our ferret quest, and within a week, we had become the proud owners of not one, but two ferrets, Sophie and Dillon. They came complete with a large cage, and an assurance that they were "house-broken and litter-trained."
It took us all of a few hours to realize that our definition of "house-broken and litter-trained" was slightly different from that of the ferrets' previous owners. Silly me. I didn't know it meant they used the entire house as a litter tray!
Along with their musky odor, the idea of having these two rascals as indoor pets quickly lost its attraction. We moved their cage into the garage, but I felt sorry for them being locked up, so we transferred them to the big aviary cage in the barn.
Now, ferrets chase rats down very tiny holes. This should have been my first clue. The next morning, there was only one ferret, Dillon in the aviary. Sophie was gone. We searched the barn, and the farm, but there was no sign of her. We moved Dillon back to the cage in the garage.
Five days passed, and still no Sophie. The weather is changing quickly here in Iowa, and I worried about her, hoping she had found somewhere warm to curl up, and lots of mice and rats to feast on!
The next night, my son, Joel, heard an odd noise at the back door. It was one in the morning but he got up, and went to check it out. There was Sophie, scratching on the glass door! I can't be certain, but I think Joel said he heard her say, "Let me in, it's cold out here!"
Most people would have learned the first time, but last night, we decided to re-locate the ferrets to the trailer house where we raise all the baby goats when they are born in January. We blocked off all the holes, shut the windows and doors, and let them loose.
"Go! Be free and find mice, rats and other wonderful creatures to eat!" I exclaimed, as we left the trailer to go milk the goats.
Walking across in the dark two hours later, my helper, Renee, said, "I just saw a ferret!"
Sure enough, Dillon was scampering across the yard, toward the horse pasture. We picked him up and searched for Sophie, but she was nowhere to be found.
This morning, I took the flashlight with me when I headed out to milk in the dark, and searched again, but no Sophie. My husband laughed, and said, "She's probably headed back for the house."
Which is exactly where we found her a few hours later, trying to get in the back door.
Now we own two ferrets, who eat expensive ferret food, and couldn't care less about hunting rats. I think I saw a rat doing a victory dance across from the grain bin this morning.
Anyone else have any great ideas?
"I have a great idea. Buy a ferret!" one of our friends suggested. "They hunt rats and kill them, and any remaining ones will leave the farm."
So began our ferret quest, and within a week, we had become the proud owners of not one, but two ferrets, Sophie and Dillon. They came complete with a large cage, and an assurance that they were "house-broken and litter-trained."
It took us all of a few hours to realize that our definition of "house-broken and litter-trained" was slightly different from that of the ferrets' previous owners. Silly me. I didn't know it meant they used the entire house as a litter tray!
Along with their musky odor, the idea of having these two rascals as indoor pets quickly lost its attraction. We moved their cage into the garage, but I felt sorry for them being locked up, so we transferred them to the big aviary cage in the barn.
Now, ferrets chase rats down very tiny holes. This should have been my first clue. The next morning, there was only one ferret, Dillon in the aviary. Sophie was gone. We searched the barn, and the farm, but there was no sign of her. We moved Dillon back to the cage in the garage.
Five days passed, and still no Sophie. The weather is changing quickly here in Iowa, and I worried about her, hoping she had found somewhere warm to curl up, and lots of mice and rats to feast on!
The next night, my son, Joel, heard an odd noise at the back door. It was one in the morning but he got up, and went to check it out. There was Sophie, scratching on the glass door! I can't be certain, but I think Joel said he heard her say, "Let me in, it's cold out here!"
Most people would have learned the first time, but last night, we decided to re-locate the ferrets to the trailer house where we raise all the baby goats when they are born in January. We blocked off all the holes, shut the windows and doors, and let them loose.
"Go! Be free and find mice, rats and other wonderful creatures to eat!" I exclaimed, as we left the trailer to go milk the goats.
Walking across in the dark two hours later, my helper, Renee, said, "I just saw a ferret!"
Sure enough, Dillon was scampering across the yard, toward the horse pasture. We picked him up and searched for Sophie, but she was nowhere to be found.
This morning, I took the flashlight with me when I headed out to milk in the dark, and searched again, but no Sophie. My husband laughed, and said, "She's probably headed back for the house."
Which is exactly where we found her a few hours later, trying to get in the back door.
Now we own two ferrets, who eat expensive ferret food, and couldn't care less about hunting rats. I think I saw a rat doing a victory dance across from the grain bin this morning.
Anyone else have any great ideas?
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Snow Flurries and Pregnant Goats
Frost covers the ground now as I walk outside to start chores at five every morning. The weather man speaks of snow flurries soon to be flying here in the midwest. Our goats, being seasonal breeders, are now pregnant, and before long the sound of bleating will fill our old dairy barn, as hundreds of newborn goats enter a cold and wintery world.
The "girls" (our goat does) are a little cantankerous right now, and spend more time picking at each other than eating their grain when they enter the parlor to be milked each morning and night. Their bellies are beginning to show signs of growing new life, and by early January, they will be lumbering around with the weight of two to three kids inside. As busy a time as "kidding season" is for us, I can hardly wait!
The "girls" (our goat does) are a little cantankerous right now, and spend more time picking at each other than eating their grain when they enter the parlor to be milked each morning and night. Their bellies are beginning to show signs of growing new life, and by early January, they will be lumbering around with the weight of two to three kids inside. As busy a time as "kidding season" is for us, I can hardly wait!
Friday, October 31, 2008
If you like reading these stories about my farm. . .
. . . please also visit my story page on my Rainbow Gate Farm website, where you will find links to a lot more of my writing.
http://rainbowgatefarm.com/JanilousCorner.html
http://rainbowgatefarm.com/JanilousCorner.html
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