Fall is a busy time here on Rainbow Gate Farm. Even though the goats are 'winding down' for the year, their swollen bellies tell us it won't be long before the barn is ringing with the sound of newborn babies. We're cleaning out barns, and hauling the manure on the surrounding fields to help fertilize next year's crops of corn, soybeans and hay.
In the first week of December, we will "dry-off" all the milking does -- or quit milking them. A lot of them beat us to it, by drying up by themselves.
Their bodies need the preparation time to concentrate on feeding the growing kids inside. Most goats have twins or triplets, and quadruplets are not unheard of. About the middle of January, the babies will begin arriving and then the whole year's process of raising babies and milking their dams begins once again.
My rare-breed chickens are done with their yearly moult. I turned the timers back on yesterday, so the chicken barn has swung into full summer hours, with the lights coming on at 5am and shutting off at 10pm. This tricks the 'girls' into thinking it is summer, and they will begin to lay eggs again. Although we eat some of these eggs, most of them will be collected for sale on eBay as 'hatching eggs'. You can check out our different rare breeds of chicken on our website at this address
http://www.rainbowgatefarm.com
Just navigate to the Rare-Breed Poultry page.
It's almost time to start evening chores. My helper, Renee, will be arriving in about an hour to help me prepare for milking.
Tomorrow I'll be working again with a yearling horse colt we are boarding here. He's a cremello Tennessee Walker and will be used for breeding in the future. When he arrived on the farm, he hadn't been handled much, and was nervous of people. Because he will remain a stallion, it's imperative we teach him manners, how to lead, and tie up, so he doesn't become dangerous or mean.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
Chicken Barns And Baby Mice
Our rare breed chickens reside above one of our smaller barns. Every fall, when my husband cleans the barn below, we open the trap-doors in the floor and scrape out all the old bedding/chicken manure onto the cement below, so it can be hauled away as fertilizer.
Where you have chickens, and grain, you are also guaranteed to have mice and as we cleaned and shoveled, we disturbed several nests. As their shelter was disturbed, the mice would scatter in all directions, fleeing for the cracks and holes along the walls of the chicken coop.
My helper, Renee and I were laughing at the neat arrangement of discarded chicken feathers lining one such nest, when we noticed movement. Inside the destroyed home were about a dozen, tiny pink bodies, squirming around -- baby mice!
"They are so tiny. They can't be more than a few days old," I said.
"Now what will happen to them?" Renee asked. "Their mother ran off into that hole over there." She pointed toward the wall.
Trying not to think about the many times I'd set traps and laid bait to try and rid our barn of these grain-eating pests, I carefully scooped up the babies in my gloved hand, feathers and all. Laying them by the hole, I said, "Watch them. I'll bet their mama is going to come back for them."
Sure enough, a few seconds later, a furry grey head poked out of the hole. She looked at us, trembling, but she ran from the hole, grabbed a baby and vanished back into the wall. She re-appeared, and saved another one of her infants. Within a minute, she had rescued every single baby, relocating them to a new place safe from our clutches.
That mother mouse will never know that this mother saluted her. In the face of grave danger, and extreme fear, she came back for her children and risked her own life to save them.
What's a little grain in the face of such love?
Where you have chickens, and grain, you are also guaranteed to have mice and as we cleaned and shoveled, we disturbed several nests. As their shelter was disturbed, the mice would scatter in all directions, fleeing for the cracks and holes along the walls of the chicken coop.
My helper, Renee and I were laughing at the neat arrangement of discarded chicken feathers lining one such nest, when we noticed movement. Inside the destroyed home were about a dozen, tiny pink bodies, squirming around -- baby mice!
"They are so tiny. They can't be more than a few days old," I said.
"Now what will happen to them?" Renee asked. "Their mother ran off into that hole over there." She pointed toward the wall.
Trying not to think about the many times I'd set traps and laid bait to try and rid our barn of these grain-eating pests, I carefully scooped up the babies in my gloved hand, feathers and all. Laying them by the hole, I said, "Watch them. I'll bet their mama is going to come back for them."
Sure enough, a few seconds later, a furry grey head poked out of the hole. She looked at us, trembling, but she ran from the hole, grabbed a baby and vanished back into the wall. She re-appeared, and saved another one of her infants. Within a minute, she had rescued every single baby, relocating them to a new place safe from our clutches.
That mother mouse will never know that this mother saluted her. In the face of grave danger, and extreme fear, she came back for her children and risked her own life to save them.
What's a little grain in the face of such love?
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!
Thursday, January 22, 2009
It's Raining Baby Goats!
The babies keep coming! We had eighteen more little goats born today. I took photos, now I have to get them downloaded and posted! They are so cute. The three and four day old babies bounce around their pen, giving entirely new meaning to the phrase "bouncing off the walls!" I put a small wooden box in the pen for them to play with, and they jump up and down playing "King Of The Castle" all day long.
Taking care of their mothers is a full time job right now. As each goat gives birth, she is allowed to clean off her babies and take care of them for the day, as long as the temperature is warm enough.
At night, we bring the mother goats or does in to the milking parlor, and milk out any remaining colostrum milk to feed to the kids. Each doe is wormed with a pour-on de-wormer, and her toenails are trimmed while she stands on the deck and eats grain. She is offered a warm drink of water with a special energy solution made with sweet-smelling molasses. Most does drink it right down.
The doe is marked with non-toxic spray across her back to show the date she "kidded" or gave birth. For the first two days, she is milked out by hand. Then on the third day, she is added to the general milking line, where her milk will be transferred to the 'bulk-tank' to be cooled. The milk is picked up by a big truck every four days and transported to the creamery where it will be made into delicious goat cheese.
Our goats are milked twice a day at 5.30am and 5.30pm. We have nine automatic milking units that we put on each goat. When all of the goats finally have their babies, it will take about three hours each time to milk, plus a further hour or so to feed hay.
Hard work and lots of it, but I love my job.
Jan
Taking care of their mothers is a full time job right now. As each goat gives birth, she is allowed to clean off her babies and take care of them for the day, as long as the temperature is warm enough.
At night, we bring the mother goats or does in to the milking parlor, and milk out any remaining colostrum milk to feed to the kids. Each doe is wormed with a pour-on de-wormer, and her toenails are trimmed while she stands on the deck and eats grain. She is offered a warm drink of water with a special energy solution made with sweet-smelling molasses. Most does drink it right down.
The doe is marked with non-toxic spray across her back to show the date she "kidded" or gave birth. For the first two days, she is milked out by hand. Then on the third day, she is added to the general milking line, where her milk will be transferred to the 'bulk-tank' to be cooled. The milk is picked up by a big truck every four days and transported to the creamery where it will be made into delicious goat cheese.
Our goats are milked twice a day at 5.30am and 5.30pm. We have nine automatic milking units that we put on each goat. When all of the goats finally have their babies, it will take about three hours each time to milk, plus a further hour or so to feed hay.
Hard work and lots of it, but I love my job.
Jan
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Warm Enough To Snow!
Woo Hoo! It's warmed up enough that it can actually snow! Today's high was somewhere in the 25 degree F range and it started snowing those soft, white flakes a few hours ago. Sure beats that twenty below zero weather we were having a few days ago.
The goat kids keep on coming. A set of triplets born late last night, then a set of twins and a single so far today. All bucklings (boys) except one of the triplets, who is a doeling (girl).
It's exhausting, but rewarding. We have about twenty goats milking now, but still have 330 does to kid!
Woo Hoo!
Jan
The goat kids keep on coming. A set of triplets born late last night, then a set of twins and a single so far today. All bucklings (boys) except one of the triplets, who is a doeling (girl).
It's exhausting, but rewarding. We have about twenty goats milking now, but still have 330 does to kid!
Woo Hoo!
Jan
Friday, January 16, 2009
Baby Goats At Last!
Today, of all days, with the temperature at the near-record twenty-five below zero, our goats decided to start kidding in earnest. Thank heavens only three sets of babies were born. Two sets of triplets and one set of twins.
Can't wait to see what tomorrow brings!
Can't wait to see what tomorrow brings!
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Peggy's Story
Having almost four hundred head of livestock, means accidents are going to happen. Several months ago, a yearling goat decided to try her skills at gate-jumping. She failed the class, getting her front leg caught in the top panel of the wire gate and snapping it in half. We found her hanging upside down in the gate.
In livestock, if the break is a 'simple' fracture (no bone protruding through the skin) we can have our local vet cast the broken limb, and our success rate with these fractures has been 100%.
When the broken bone has pierced the skin, the prognosis is very poor. Even if you spend the hundreds of dollars to have the bone pieced back together and pinned, infection takes over, and the animal dies.
It might seem harsh, but a farmer has to take into account the market value of each animal on the farm. A yearling doeling like Peggy is worth approximately $200. It made no sense to spend hundreds of dollars over her value, with such a poor prognosis.
Two options remained. Euthanize her or splint the leg, and see what happened.
We decided on the latter. It's not as easy a choice as one might think. For weeks, we watched Peggy hobble around. The pain affected her appetite and she lost weight, despite our extra efforts to supplement her feed. Last week, I noticed her touching her hoof to the ground. This was encouraging and I hoped it meant the leg was healing. She started eating more again.
To my shock, several days later, I noticed the splinted leg hanging from just below the knee, by one tendon. Peggy had knocked the bandage away. Her leg was falling off.
I climbed into the pen, and removed the dangling leg. The stump did not bleed, and was not infected. I sprayed some antiseptic on the stump end, and brought Peggy up to a pen right next to our milk house where we keep the does who have already freshened (given birth) She seemed relieved to be rid of her dead leg, and began to frolic around.
Peggy's loss of a leg might seem like a tragedy, but in reality, it's a blessing in disguise. Peggy is a cross between an Oberhasli and a Saanen. Although Saanens are bigger, she inherited her Oberhasli mother's small frame, and smaller does don't tend to produce enough milk to make the grade.
This first year, when she freshened, she would have been evaluated for her production level, and culled out of the herd if she didn't produce five pounds or more of milk. Five pounds is the minimum production we accept from any doe, because otherwise, they are not paying for their upkeep.
Culled does are sent to the sale barn, where buyers purchase them for the various ethnic markets who enjoy goat meat.
This will not be Peggy's fate. We seem to have a soft spot for cripples around this place. Peggy will join our other three-legged goat, Gimpy, as a permanent mascot of Rainbow Gate Farm. No matter how little milk she produces, she will grow up, live and die right here on our farm. With the constant attention and extra grain, she is becoming very friendly and looking good. Peggy is one terrific goat!
I'm teaching Peggy how to use a computer now, so I'm certain she'll be back to share more of her life stories with you on Rainbow Gate Farm.
In livestock, if the break is a 'simple' fracture (no bone protruding through the skin) we can have our local vet cast the broken limb, and our success rate with these fractures has been 100%.
When the broken bone has pierced the skin, the prognosis is very poor. Even if you spend the hundreds of dollars to have the bone pieced back together and pinned, infection takes over, and the animal dies.
It might seem harsh, but a farmer has to take into account the market value of each animal on the farm. A yearling doeling like Peggy is worth approximately $200. It made no sense to spend hundreds of dollars over her value, with such a poor prognosis.
Two options remained. Euthanize her or splint the leg, and see what happened.
We decided on the latter. It's not as easy a choice as one might think. For weeks, we watched Peggy hobble around. The pain affected her appetite and she lost weight, despite our extra efforts to supplement her feed. Last week, I noticed her touching her hoof to the ground. This was encouraging and I hoped it meant the leg was healing. She started eating more again.
To my shock, several days later, I noticed the splinted leg hanging from just below the knee, by one tendon. Peggy had knocked the bandage away. Her leg was falling off.
I climbed into the pen, and removed the dangling leg. The stump did not bleed, and was not infected. I sprayed some antiseptic on the stump end, and brought Peggy up to a pen right next to our milk house where we keep the does who have already freshened (given birth) She seemed relieved to be rid of her dead leg, and began to frolic around.
Peggy's loss of a leg might seem like a tragedy, but in reality, it's a blessing in disguise. Peggy is a cross between an Oberhasli and a Saanen. Although Saanens are bigger, she inherited her Oberhasli mother's small frame, and smaller does don't tend to produce enough milk to make the grade.
This first year, when she freshened, she would have been evaluated for her production level, and culled out of the herd if she didn't produce five pounds or more of milk. Five pounds is the minimum production we accept from any doe, because otherwise, they are not paying for their upkeep.
Culled does are sent to the sale barn, where buyers purchase them for the various ethnic markets who enjoy goat meat.
This will not be Peggy's fate. We seem to have a soft spot for cripples around this place. Peggy will join our other three-legged goat, Gimpy, as a permanent mascot of Rainbow Gate Farm. No matter how little milk she produces, she will grow up, live and die right here on our farm. With the constant attention and extra grain, she is becoming very friendly and looking good. Peggy is one terrific goat!
I'm teaching Peggy how to use a computer now, so I'm certain she'll be back to share more of her life stories with you on Rainbow Gate Farm.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)