Autumn's Wicked Lullaby

Each morning now, my old friend, Jack Frost, nips my cheeks as I step outside just before the sunrise butters the horizon. Hugging my sweatshirt, I hurry to the barn, where the goats greet me with a chorus of bleats and snorts. After filling seven buckets half-way with grain, enough for each group of twenty-one goats, I stop to feed the kittens meowing in the entryway of the parlor.

Next stop, the milk-house, to run hot water into the steel sink where the milking units lie waiting. After pouring in a dose of sanitizer, I flip the switch for the milker pump, and let it run through the pipelines and back into the sink. It needs ten minutes to kill any bacteria in the line, so I leave it running and walk outside to the holding area.

From here, the view is superb. The rolling hills are weeping leaves in the brisk wind, leaving rivers of autumn tones across the pasture. Several of our horses graze the remnants of green grass, so abundant just a few short weeks ago. If you have to shovel manure, you might as well do it with a view, and grabbing the manure scraper, I soon have the cement yard clean of mud and goat droppings.

Once that job is complete, it's time to shut the pump off and drain the sanitizing solution out of the line. I carry each milking unit out to the parlor, and plug it into the pipeline. First the tubing where the milk will flow, and then the air-hose for vacuum.

Sparky, my Australian Shepherd, waits at my feet, eyes sparkling, tongue lolling in an ever-present grin. He loves his job. "Come on, boy," I say. We enter the barn, and slide the door to the holding area open. As I open the gate, Sparky starts barking and the goats run through the door. Sparky dashes to the back of the pen, rounding up any stragglers.

When the last goat is through the door, he sits and waits, daring them to try and come back in the barn. They know better these days, and I slide the door shut without incident. Sparky looks across the barn at the goats who remain on the other side in the "Dry Pen" and whines.

"It's okay, boy," I say. "They aren't milking right now." Of our 250 adult does, half are no longer milking and are what we call "dry". They are pregnant and will be giving birth by late December. As their pregnancy progresses, their body signals a "slow down" on the milk production and they give less and less each day. When this happens, we mark these does with green ink, and milk them once a day for about a week. This gives their bodies another signal to cease making milk. Then we put them in the dry pen so they can focus on growing the new life inside of them and prepare for the next milking season.

Putting the radio on to my favorite station, Life 101.9, I let a group of goats into the parlor, and switch on the pump. It only takes an hour and all the does are milked. I carry all the milking units back into the milk-house and place them in the sink.

After washing off any mud, they are hooked back up to be washed with hot water and a special pipeline detergent. Finally a solution of milk-stone-remover and acid rinse is run through the lines and they are drained until tonight.I hose down the parlor deck where the goats stood, and head upstairs to the top of the barn where we store the sweet-smelling alfalfa hay.

After forking down two huge piles through feeding holes in the floor, I run back downstairs and spread it up and down the mangers in the dairy barn. Soon, every goat is lined up eating hay.

Then it's off to the smaller barns where over one-hundred-and-forty yearling female goats called doelings are waiting for their breakfast of hay and grain. These young does will give birth in early 2009 and join the milking herd, bumping our total number of milking does to almost four hundred next year. Most of our does will give birth to twins, with the occasional set of triplets and some singles.

Math never has been my strongest subject, but I believe this means we are expecting somewhere in the vicinity of seven or eight hundred baby goats this year, all to be born between late December, 2008 and April, 2009. Our weather man warned us this morning to expect snow flurries this Monday.

Last year, snow fell by Thanksgiving and never left until April. We keep our baby goats (kids) in two old trailer houses. They have to be cleaned out and bedded-up with fresh sawdust, which will give our three teenagers something really exciting to do this weekend.

Even though we have electric heaters and automatic feeders in the kid trailers, the biggest challenge is collecting the babies before they freeze at birth. Here in the Midwest, United States of America, our temperatures can stay below zero for weeks on end through the winter months. Add mountains of ice and regular snow storms, and I wonder once again why I ever chose to live in Iowa.

It's time to start boarding up windows and hauling the old tarp out of storage to cover up the open end of the barn. Winterizing is essential if we want livestock, not deadstock. While most does are excellent mothers and try to lick their babies dry, some plop their offspring onto the straw and walk away without so much as a backward glance.

On the coldest days, I have about five minutes to reach the soaking-wet newborns and run them back to the milk-house to be dried off and fed their mother's colostrum. If I don't get to them fast enough, their ears freeze and fall off about a week later.

It's simple enough until twenty does all decide to give birth to twins and triplets in the space of one hour. Having licked their babies dry, they walk across to someone else's kids and claim them, too. I will bring one round of babies in and go out to find fifteen more waiting for me.

The boy babies (bucklings) out of the top milk producing does and each female baby goat (doelings) are given a Velcro collar with their date of birth, future identification number and parents' names written on it with a permanent marker. The Velcro collar can be adjusted as they grow.

Once they reach eight weeks, they receive an ear tattoo with the same number.While I'm enjoying the beautiful scenery and the slow-down pace around the farm, Autumn's gentle lullaby is deceptive. Her days are mild and the scenery is superb, but we all know her husband is a foul-tempered beast and I hear his voice howling in the distance.

Let him come. We'll be ready.

Bye, Bye, Barbie

We watched the buckskin foal, Blondie, frolicking in the summer breeze across the pasture, far from the safety of her mother's side. "I've never seen such a young foal stray so far from its mother," I commented to my husband.

Paul nodded. "It's the weirdest thing," he agreed.

We stood watching Blondie a little longer before heading to the barn to milk our goats. This petite filly was Barbie's third baby in the five years we'd owned her. Her first two foals, both boys, were sold when they were weaned.

We bought Barbie at a local horse sale in 2003 for our daughter to ride. Her previous owner sang her praises, but anyone familiar with horse sales knows it is "buyer beware". In this case, the seller was truthful. It wasn't long before we discovered what a dream pony Barbie really was. My daughter learned to ride on this patient equine babysitter.

Every year in the fall, children visiting the local tractor and antiques show would line up for a free ride on the "chocolate pony with the pink saddle." Barbie let children sit on her back for hours on end, and she never misbehaved. She also attended multiple birthday parties, giving town children an opportunity to ride a pony, often for the first time ever.

At a recent sale, I caught up with her original owner, and was able to tell her how much we adored the sweet pony she'd sold us. We breed and sell horses for a living and many times, people asked us to 'name our price' for Barbie.

Ponies like her are hard to find. I would smile and say, "You can't afford her. She's priceless." We displayed her photo on our Rainbow Gate Farm website, with the caption, "Barbie will never be for sale."

On Rainbow Gate Farm, foals are not handled much until after they are weaned from their mothers. We like to let them learn "horse manners" from their mother and the other horses in the herd. Mares ' breed back' (become pregnant again) sometime in the first few months after their foal is born. At six to eight months of age, we "wean" them gradually.

This transition time is usually a tough time for the foal. We bring their dams back to the foal each night for a week, and then every second day for a little longer. Then it's time for the dam to concentrate her energy on the growing foal inside her belly, and for her weaned foal to learn about people.During those first six months with their dams, it is unusual for the foal to stray far from her side. Mama is their security from predators, and their only source of affection and nutrition.

Blondie's behavior was odd for her age. The only time Blondie stayed by her mother's side was to nurse. Once satisfied, she would take off exploring once more. None of us could have imagined at the time, this unusual trait would save her life.

For the past several months, severe thunderstorms have been rolling in across the green corn fields of our county. These storms are often brief, but very intense with continuous lightning and hail. No sooner does one storm end, than another is building up on the horizon. Three months ago, we moved Barbie and her two-month-old baby girl, Blondie, to our neighbor's pasture with several other horses we own. There are several barns where the horses can seek shelter from severe weather. Barbie didn't like being outside in storms, and was usually the first one in the barn when the raindrops began to fall.

One afternoon, our neighbor called us to say a horse was dead in the pasture. We rushed up the road to discover our dear Barbie collapsed in knee-deep grass, with Blondie circling around her. Blondie touched her nose to her mother's side over and over again, unable to understand why her mother didn't get up. A quick examination revealed a large burn mark on Barbie's right cheek. Her eyes were dislocated. Lightning had struck the ground next to where she grazed, and the wet grass became the conductor for the electricity to enter her body. The way her legs were buckled underneath her told us she'd died instantly.

Blondie wouldn't let us near her. With five people helping, we were able to run her up into the barn and lasso her. Once she was caught we put a halter on her head and trailered her back to our home farm. We put her into a large stall, with hay, grain and fresh water, and she nibbled the food, giving us hope she will make the transition to solid food successfully. Two months is far too young for a foal to lose its mother's milk, but they can survive if given enough high quality substitutes. We may offer her goat's milk to help boost her calcium levels and protect those growing bones.

Within a half hour of being home, the distraught foal decided Amber and I might make pretty decent surrogate mothers after all. She started following us around and nuzzling us. We brought her out into the sunshine and let her nibble grass on the lawn. She looked around and whinnied for her mother, but of course, there was no answer.

Every time I look at Blondie, I think back to the day we stood and wondered why she didn't stay next to her mother, like normal foals. How thankful I am for her "oddness." A normal foal standing right next to her mother in the wet grass would have been killed by the lightning bolt that took her dam's life. Even in a storm, Blondie was far enough away to be saved.

Our eight-year-old daughter is naturally very upset about her pony's death. But our Barbie lives on through her sweet daughter, Blondie, who will one day take her place at the fair, giving pony rides to children who love horses as much as we do.

Oh, and by the way, don't ask, because Blondie will never be for sale.

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!

Farewell, Foals

We received a phone call earlier this past week asking about one of our foals for sale. The lady said she would be coming to see the filly (female horse baby) pictured here on Saturday.

Here on Rainbow Gate Farm, we do not handle our foals for the first four to six months of their lives. While many people believe in early handling and even imprinting the foals, we think this can interfere with the very important 'horse' lessons a foal must learn about being a part of a horse herd. Most of our mares are very friendly and come up to see us when we walk into their pasture, so the foals, while wary, learn very early that people are not so bad.

During those first few months of life, a mother horse teaches the baby about the horse world's "social ladder" and how to behave around other horses. When a young foal sees an adult horse it doesn't know it will stretch out its neck and open and close its mouth rapidly. This is horse language for "Don't hurt me - I'm just a baby who poses no threat to you." I have seen young horses do this up to the age of two years when they encounter a strange, older horse they do not know.

There is a distinct pecking order among horses in a herd. Even though our stallion (male horse capable of breeding) runs with the mares, he is not the boss. A mare is always at the top of the pecking order. The head mare always decides who eats first when hay or grain is given out and she leads the herd through the day when they graze out in the pasture. The stallion may be allowed to eat beside her if she likes him, but quite often his position will be at number three or four.

Foals are often an exception in a group of horses who know each other well. Younger mares without foals will even "babysit" the youngsters, allowing them to eat with them, while the mother is eating elsewhere or if she is taken out to be ridden on a trail ride. The foals will spend less and less time by their mother's sides as they grow, returning only to nurse and if they become frightened.

Once the foals reach the age of four to six months they can be weaned from their dams. If a mare is maintaining her condition very well, we might leave the foal with her until it is seven months old.

With a pending sale, however, the weaning and handling process must begin. We promise our foals will be halter-broken and know how to lead by the time they leave the farm at purchase.

On Wednesday night, we weaned "Lucky," the filly in the photo, and left her until Friday morning, to get used to the idea of being without her mother. She soon realized her source of food was coming from us, and would nicker when we entered the barn, but touching her was out of the question. She didn't trust us. You could almost see her wondering, Are they going to eat me now? I'm ready to run away!

On Friday morning, I entered her stall with a lasso, being careful to leave the door unlatched behind me as an emergency exit if I needed one. The filly moved as far away from me as she could. Tossing the rope over her back, I let it slip to the floor several times. At first she flinched but soon realized the rope was not hurting her, and she ignored it as it flew past her head.

I threw the rope so the lasso end fell over her head and pulled it just tight enough so she knew I was now in contact with her. She ran around a couple of times and then stopped. I walked up to her and she moved away. Talking to her in a gentle tone, I continued walking up and reaching out my hand until she finally stood long enough for me to make contact with her head. As soon as my hand touched her, I stepped back five paces. End of lesson. I stood looking at the ground for a moment before glancing at her once more.

She watched me intently, and you could almost hear her thinking, Hmm, I wish she would go away. I run around and she follows me. I let her touch me and she leaves me alone. Letting her touch me is a good thing to do because then she leaves me alone.

We repeated this scenario several times. Touch her, walk away. By the third time, she hung her head and licked her lips. This is a key sign to a horse trainer that the horse just calmed down and relaxed. The next time I walked up to her, I stroked her neck and under her chin, lingering for about ten or fifteen seconds before walking away again.

She stared at me, and I imagined her thinking, Well, she hasn't eaten me yet. That actually feels kind of good when she scratches underneath my chin. Maybe that's why Mama liked these people creatures.

Within fifteen minutes of entering her stall, I was able to place a halter on that filly. I then left her alone for a few hours to absorb her lessons.

When I lived in Australia I was blessed to know the great horseman, Tom "Robbie" Roberts, author of the "Horse Control" books. In 1982, Robbie was awarded the Medal of the Order of Australia, for his service to equestrian sport. A veteran of both World Wars, he took on difficult and dangerous horses and turned them into well-mannered, riding horses. He taught me a great deal about "gentling horses" and I still use his methods today. I remember him telling me over and over again, "A lesson is anything you teach a horse, good or bad." It is up to us to be sure every "lesson" a horse receives is a good one.

When I returned to the filly, she allowed me to walk up to her. I patted her and then snapped a lead-rope to her halter and taught her to give to the pressure and follow me wherever I went. I spent another fifteen minutes or so with her, and then put her away in her stall for the night, confident she would be ready to meet her new owner the next day.

On Saturday morning I received a phone call from the lady coming to see "Lucky," our filly. She mentioned having seen a buckskin foal on our website and indicated she was interested in purchasing that colt too.

Out the door we flew to catch the mare and foal in question. We weaned the foal, and I began to work with him right away. Using the same methods as for the filly, I had the second foal leading by the time the people arrived.

Tom "Robbie" Roberts always said if you teach a horse the right way, you give them a very good chance of having a good home for life. Although he was referring to a horse raised and then 'broke-in' or gentled for riding, I know the same holds true with foals started the right way too.

I always ask people to keep in touch and e-mail photos of the foals as they grow. Most people love to share but sometimes we never hear from them again.

As evening fell, I watched their trailer loaded with two foals, travel up our driveway, and drive away. I wondered if we would ever hear from them again and I think of Robbie's words, and smile, knowing I gave them a good head start on a happy life.

Jack Frost made an early appearance this morning to our mid-west farming operation. He greeted me by nipping at my bare hands as I hurried across to the barn to feed hay and check the livestock. Our radio weather man announced we could expect snow flurries this afternoon. Just in time for Thanksgiving.

We are weaning foals this week. Most of them are already five to six months old. One paint filly is heading off to Indiana this weekend, so we need to work with her over the next few days. Right now she is nervous of us but over the next few days she will learn how to lead, and tie up, pick up her feet when asked and stand still to let us brush her. We use a gentle approach to training but firm enough to teach the foal manners also. A newly weaned foal will treat human handlers like another horse from their herd. At some time in their training they act out, perhaps trying to kick or nip at their human. A sharp smack and a loud "No!" is usually all it takes for the foal to think Whew! I don't think I will try that again.

Even though we have six turkeys sitting in the freezer, we've decided to go out for Thanksgiving lunch tomorrow. It is our first Thanksgiving without my mother-in-law and nobody feels like much of a celebration.

The goats are falling on milk pounds. Their bodies are preparing for the new kids they are carrying, due in January and February of 2008.

Which reminds me, I have a lot of cleaning to do! Both our "kid buildings" need to be cleaned out by hand and restocked with fresh sawdust. Pens must be dismantled for cleaning and then rebuilt. It will be worth it, when those gorgeous babies start to arrive and I can transport them to clean, dry and warm buildings in which to grow and play. We are expecting over 500 goat kids this year, so it's never been so important to be prepared.

Houdini Horses

This morning, we looked out over a frosty blanket of grass, a blue sky and fifteen horses meandering around the house eating our lawn. The problem with this cozy picture is the horses, who should have been down in the pasture eating grass!

Lucky for me, a bucket of grain soon solved the problem as thirteen of the escapees followed me back to their home. The other two were quickly apprehended and put away. But our gaited stallion was also here, and he is pastured at our neighbors!

Deer had knocked down a corner of fence, allowing him to escape. At least he came home!

Friday's Day On The Farm

Hi! Welcome to my Friday. It's been an interesting day, starting with a phone call early this morning to go collect two of our American Quarter horse mares who were loaned out for the summer to a family with teenage girls who like to ride. It's weaning time for foals anyway, and we have several "babies" in stalls in the barn.
We wean the babies slowly, taking their mama's away for short periods of time over a week, until both mare and foal are happy enough to leave each other.

The vet was here the other day to remove a cast from our dairy goat doe, Squatti's leg. Squatti panicked and jumped a gate five weeks ago, breaking her leg. The report was all good - a beautifully healed leg!

Milking the does this morning didn't take too long. We are down to 125 milking does, as the winter approaches and they "dry up" or stop milking. Goats are seasonal breeders which means they all come into "heat" for breeding in the fall, and then "kid" (have their babies) in the early months of the new year. This year we are expecting over 500 baby goat kids to be born! Half of those will be males and most of those will be sold as day old kids. The girls or "doelings" will be retained to expand our milking herd size next year.

A baby doe is called a doeling. Doelings only take eight months to reach maturity and will produce their first babies around the time of their own first birthday! Once a doeling has milked for one year, she is called a 'doe'.

Our chickens are also slowing down for the winter. During the summer months, we keep all the breeds separate and collect 'purebred' eggs from the different varieties. I sell hatching eggs on eBay of rare breeds such as Swiss Spitzhauben, Blue Silkie, Cream Brabanter and Barnavelder chickens.

This year we also raised Nargansett turkeys for the first time. Out of nine turkey chicks we only ended up with three hens. But we won't have to buy any turkeys to have Thanksgiving Dinner.

Of course, we also raise Muscovy ducks for the same reason - providing meat for the table. The Muscovy duck raised three clutches of ducklings this year, and not one of them has ever made it to the pot! So there is a good possibility the turkeys will be safe after all!