Kid Count to date

Lunetta - twins, doe retained, buck sold

Masquerade - twin does, one retained, one sold

Luci - triplet bucklings, all sold

Luna - twin does, all sold

Elina - twins, doe sold, buck sold

Macy - triplets, one doe retained, one doe sold, one buckling sold

Emilene - triplets, one doe retained, two bucklings 

Cammile - single buckling, for sale

Sage - single doeling, retained
Esmerelda- single doeling, sold
Mona Lisa - twin bucklings
May - single doeling, sold
Cassiopeia - twin sundgau doelings, one for sale
Mallory - mixed twins, both sold
Charlotte - twin cou blanc doelings, sold

29 kids for 2013!

Kidding - Round 1, Complete

Kidding season in 2012 was marked by torrential rains, sleep deprivation, goo monitoring, vertigo, sleep deprivation, multiple simultaneous births, cold wet feet, sleep deprivation, oh...and sleep deprivation. This year, things were going to be different.

We started out kidding season, 2013, with a bang. Maybe it was more of a 'pop'. From the Prosecco. This year things would be different. We had food, we had a heater, we had 'heatholder' socks that felt a little creepy, we had a barn camera that worked (sometimes), and we had a few hours of sleep. One emergency run for potato chips and we were all set. 'Pop' started the kid marathon, with ripe castelvetrano olives and our very own *tadaaa* raw cow's milk caerphilly cheese.

Saturday brought an explosion of Toggenbabies.

Triplets, 2 doelings, 1 buckling. One is a keeper, Maribel.

Many, many Toggenbabies. And one leopard.

Still more Toggenbabies. 3 Toggenburgs kidded so far, two sets of triplets, one set of twins. All spoken for.

Cammile was a trooper as she struggled to giver birth to a giant, 11 1/4 pound single buckling. He's lovely, a pale silvery chamoise, at this rate he will reach maturity in about a week and a half. He eats like it is going out of style. He needed a studly, gruff name, so until he is sold, he is dubbed 'Dirk.'

Sage is a good listener. And a loudmouth. In fact, she hasn't stopped screaming since Monday. When she was in labor I sat with her to try to calm her down (and I stole the spot under the heater). I lovingly asked her for a two-tone chamoisee doeling as I do not have one in the herd. Lo and behold, she delivered! This is Sofia. I love her.

Meeeehh! I'm staaarving! The little buggers are gulping down gallons per day already. I don't want to jinx anything but this is one of the smartest kid crops we've had. They aren't terrified of the bottles, they took to the bucket feeder really well, and they are growing so large and healthy that they are already outgrowing their sweaters or 'wings' as Rog calls them.

Meeeh! I'm starving too! Rog made us mini pizzas. We certainly didn't starve this year. We even ate at the table. More than once.

We took applications for goat birthing doulas this year and dear M was our lucky hire. Or unlucky. She was the only one who applied. Can you read her thoughts? This spa sucks. This is nothing like the brochure. I'm sticky, cold and wearing creepy socks. I have to wash dishes 10 times a day and I have milk in my hair. Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you!

Kaelyn is tired out from being a new surrogate mom of 18. She is the goat  taste tester. Loves the babies as if they were her own until they are dry and fluffy and then some. Goat milk mustaches don't last long in my barn.

Rosie is pissed I woke her up. Nothing new here.

Healthy dams, vibrant lively babies. All is well so far. Round two looms in the near future. . .

Twas the night before kidding. . .

Twas the night before kidding, when all through the house

Every creature (me ) was stirring, except the husband and dogs.

The camera was hung from the rafters with care,

In hopes that healthy kids, soon would be there.

The does were all nestled all snug in their pens,

While grunting and whispering to pull me from bed.

And I in my thermals, and Rog in his cap (asleep and dead to the world) ,

Had just settled in for a short, restless nap.

When out in the barn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to my coveralls I flew like a flash,

Tore open the barn door and threw up the sash (the light switch).

The moon (Luna) stood in the new-fallen snow

Flagging and flirting at the buck barn below.

What is she doing? She’s in labor, you see ,

Confused and hormonal and ‘special’, she be.

With daybreak came agitation and nests,

I knew they’d be ready in a few hours at best.

More rapid than eagles the babies they came,

Dams pushed and they shouted, kids quickly stood and exclaimed.

Now Lunetta! now, Massey! now, Luci and Luna!

On, Elina! On, Macy!, on Emilene and Cammile!

To the birthing stalls! to the to the milkstand!

Now get up! Get up! Please! Please!

As snowflakes in February certainly fly,

The milk lines will freeze, sputter and cause us to cry ‘why?’.

So up to the house-top for the bucket we flew,

To the stovetop to heat treat, and pasteurize too.

Later, in a tinkling, I felt warmth on my side,

The buckling pranced and kept feeding, then peed on my thigh.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Lunetta gave me a placenta rich kiss from my chin to my crown.

We dress all in thermals, from head to foot,

Our clothes are all tarnished with milk, hay and gook.

A bundle of kids we carry to the pen,

Dressed up in sweaters, bleating now and then.

Their eyes-how they twinkle! Their tails how merry!

Their lips are like roses, their noses  like cherries!

Their dainty mouths are drawn up like a bow,

And the beards of their chins flaked with milk white as snow.

Massey is stoic, alfalfa held tight in her teeth,

While triplets encircle her udder and teats.

They aren’t even hers, but she hasn’t a care, 

Accepted and cared for them in her quiet, heated lair. 

She is chubby and plump, a right jolly old girl,

She jiggles and wiggles from brisket to thurls!

Dam raising triplet boys is a tough job to do,

Soon the weight will melt off, as each year is true.

The kid count is growing, sleep patterns have weakened,

Every year parts of our system need tweaking. 

Milk jugs are filling with rich goaty goodness,

Soon fresh chevre and aged cheeses are sure to impress.

We spring up quite early, and stay up quite late,

When it’s all over, an enviable date .

Year after year, we trudge through with might,

Happy Kidding to all, may your goat dreams be bright…