It's Official...the Goodles are Weaned

For my dad on his birthday.

A very big day for the goodles--no bottle.

Wow, it's a little sad and also exciting as well as liberating.  Tonight I went to the barn armed only with a bag of prepared salad mix and a lot of momma love.  No bottle bucket.

Shadow and Pippin ran to the stool where I sit, used to sit, to feed them but quickly turned back when they realized I wasn't joining them.  Pippin immediately dove into the bowl with salad mix and Shadow to the feeder just stocked today with very lush and tasty Orchard Grass hay from last month's cutting at Jeff and Barb's.

They didn't seem to be affected too much by the change in routine.

My boys are getting big, growing up.  They still call out "ma'aaaa" when they scare or are unsure.  I think I still need that.

Sunday on the Ranch

It's a late Sunday afternoon with a very agreeable temperature and a mild breeze, scattered cloud cover to dull the intensity of the summer sun, clear air quality with a reported low pollen count. It's peaceful. At times.

I'm sitting on the porch, grateful for wireless internet, passively accompanying the goats, Shadow and Pippin, on their afternoon pasture browse. They are becoming quite independent, relatively speaking, but they do still keep their rectangular pupiled-eye on their momma as a reassurance that all is well.

Looking back to May 11 when I went to Jennifer and Ed's to pick up my new bottle baby goats, I knew very little about how to care for two caprine creatures let alone the energy it would take. Immediately recognizing my short-coming, I ordered three books about goats from amazon.com. Two books specific to Boer goats, the breed of the little half-brothers.

Momma goats, or dams, only have two teats. When she has three babies, which is not uncommon, it's typical that the smallest kid gets pushed off the milk by the other two and doesn't thrive. For the kid's sake, this triplet becomes a bottle baby. Goats are herd animals, so getting one bottle baby is unthinkable.

For the first four to five weeks, the little ones required feeding five times a day. This meant heating the milk to 103 - 105 degrees, preparing the Gerber baby bottles with larger rubber farm animal nipples and heading to the barn for the evolving lesson in feeding baby goats. This also meant feeding as early as 7am and as late as midnight with quality time spent just cuddling the vulnerable ones. Another meaning: limited sleep.

Shadow was born May 1 and he is named such because from the time he came home with me, he has not left my side. A constant under my feet, he is my shadow. I pondered Spirit for a while as he has the soul of many in his deeply connected eyes.

Pippin was born May 5. He was originally called Latte because of his espresso and foam coloring. We had a dickens of a time for the first few weeks; he was a little sick here and there. Diarrhea and many an anal temperature read later, I started calling him Poopy, Pip, as in pip-squeak, and later to Pippin.

As the past few months have gone by, their need for bottled milk has decreased. Going from five times a day to now which is just one at night. Even now, instead of a full 10oz bottle, they are down to just 5oz. By mid-week, they will no longer take a bottle.

It's a strange transition. I was buying six gallons of milk each week at Costco when they were at their peak consumption of about 28 - 30oz each a day. It was momentous when I got only two gallons. And just this week, I bought only a half gallon at Trader Joe's. A little sadness set in.

There came a moment when I said to myself, "Wow, these goats are really attached to me!" Then I thought about that and said, "Yes, they are." For I am their momma, their protector, their nurturer, their stall cleaner.

And they are my kids.

Photos

Top: Pippin stretched out as Cleopatra on the hay trailer as Shadow follows behind.

Middle: Learning to bottle feed. Pippin on the bottle and Shadow smiling.

Bottom: Coming out of the carrier on their first day home with me. Pippin in the forefront.

Joy to the World

I'm a pretty regular looker of craigslist these days keeping an eye out for smoking deals on ranch necessities. One could interpret that as looking for another horse.

Lately I've been looking at the "Wanted" section. I never knew this section existed. But you know what they say, one person's no longer needed is another's treasure.

There I found an extremely well written posting by this woman asking for any returnables: bottles and cans. She explained that her husband had lost his job, at no fault of his own, and this was the first time that they may not be able to make their mortgage payment. They have children and are struggling to make ends meet.

I told Larry about this posting and reminded him about his healthy growing collection of bags of returnables, a collection he improves upon daily. He organizes the bags by product, counts them out 50 per bag and even writes "50" on the outside. We decided this family could really benefit from his organizational talent.

Katie called me back and we made arrangements to drive the bags to her house that evening. The back of the pick up truck was full, full, of bulging bags, not really like Santa's sleigh but you could stretch your imagination.

The tall Ponderosa pine in front of Katie's house was thoughtfully strung with lights, probably the same as years before, like nothing was different. Their picture window was decorated in children's art work, reminding us to hope and dream.

Out came Katie, expecting another child, carrying a little bag of her own.

We stacked 12 bags of returnables in front of her garage. She thanked us endlessly and gave me the little bag. "Merry Christmas!" she said.

Katie baked us cookies, gave us a bottle of her home-made strawberry jam bottled just last month, and included a hand-made card that read JOY.

This is the perfect Christmas gift.