After that I decided to clean out the goat cozy and donkey dorm. Bad weather is coming, and this job is far more pleasant on a fine day. Because we now have 7 goats where 2 normally live, the bedding was quite wet, and heavy to move. Goats waste a lot of their hay, picking through for the choicest bits, and tossing the rest on the ground. The hay, mixed with shavings, sodden with urine and well trampled, was a bit of a challenge to shift. And because the donkeys are bored and locked up away from the goats, they all jammed into the small space with me. It was nearly impossible to work the pitchfork around them and I ended up using some colorful language before my work was done.
Once the goat room was all fresh and clean, I lured the mama goats in with some hay and treats. 4 of the 5 kids hopped in with them. My goal was to let them have a snack and a nap, giving the donkeys some pasture time, and getting them out of my way for the second step of the project. That one loose kid gave me a merry chase. I spent a stupid amount of time trying to catch her, and finally had to resort to using a large net. My frustration level was in the red zone. Once she was tucked in with the rest of the herd, the donkeys happily took over the pasture, and I was able to clean their room with little trouble. Next I raked their entire paddock, filling the barrow with spent hay, sticks and manure.
I felt quite satisfied with my work, and was heading inside to take a break, when one by one the naughty kids scooted through the tiny gap in the fence that allows the poultry to go from their yard to the pasture. Then they couldn't figure out how to return, and cried piteously.This alarmed their patient mothers. That is when I heard the gate rattle. Our normal latch works very well, but one of the fence posts that holds half the latch settled over the winter, and needs repair before the hook properly fits into it's home. I've been wedging the gate shut and looping the hook over some wire. If the animals work at it, they can swing the gate open about 10 inches. The mama goats did just that, and let themselves into the back yard, trying to reach their kids. It was then that they saw the garage door was open. Leaving the kids to wail and cry, they headed for the open door at a dead run, their huge udders swaying comically. Once inside, they began to gorge on cracked corn and chicken food, things a goat should NOT eat. They are big, strong girls and were determined to gobble the contraband food. I have a riding crop by the door, and picked it up, smacking them smartly, and trying to herd them to the door. Game on, they nimbly danced away from me, over to where we store the hay. The hay is stacked on sturdy wooden pallets, with gaps between the boards. I froze in horror as slim goat legs slipped between the cracks, terrified one would snap a limb. Back and forth we went, between leg breaking pallets and stomach wrecking food bins, until they finally tired of the game and headed back outside. The babies were still wailing in distress, and I had 7 goats in spaces they didn't belong. So I gave up and came inside for a glass of water. The does were in the back yard, happy to check out unfamiliar surroundings. The kids were in the poultry yard, alternately exploring and calling in distress. A sturdy gate separated the two groups.
After I'd caught my breath, I went back out and scooped up a little goat grain. The mother goats happily followed me back to the pasture. I left the gate ajar while they ate, and hustled back to the hen yard to open that gate, hoping the kids would file out and head for their dams. No such luck. By the time I got to the kids, the mothers had finished their snack, and were back in the yard. I ignored the whole group for a while, and finally the errant babies figured out how to walk through the hen yard gate and joined their mamas in the back yard. For the next 10 minutes they took turns tripping along the top of the picnic table, sliding down the metal bulkhead, and running amuck. A flake of delicious alfalfa lured the ever-hungry does into the pasture, and to my relief the kids following along, skipping happily.
By this point I was late to put the roaster chicken in the oven, so I took care of that next. Then I convinced all the goats to tuck into their clean room for the night, let the donkeys out of the paddock and fed them supper.Almost done with animal chores, I locked the Silky chickens up, and headed to secure the ducks and laying birds. The layers were all on their roosts, crooning softly and planning the next days events, but where there should have been three ducks there were only two. I didn't see the third, but assumed she would be back soon, and went back in the house to finish dinner preparations. Chris soon arrived home from work. I was busy in the kitchen and asked if he would go lock the ducks up, the final evening chore. He came back and said, "There are only two." I joined him and we hunted. No duck under the coop, or in the pasture. No duck dabbling in the vernal pool. She had not slipped into the chicken coop, and was not in the back yard. The drake was calling for her, we didn't hear her quack in response. Chris went out and walked all around the pasture. There was no sign of her, and no pile of feathers, but we both suspected she'd been turned into fox food. We were sad.
This morning, early, the first sound I heard was a duck quacking. I hustled outside and sure enough, there was our "lost" girl, complaining loudly, wanting breakfast. After some detective work, I deduced that she had decided to nest inside the burn pile, and when I poked around a little, I found where she had spent the night.
He poked his dull head through all the holes that were too small to allow his body to follow. I went inside to let him work things through, and after about 15 minutes, EUREKA! he finally figured it out. I never saw a duck waddle so fast, out and away, to join his beloveds in the spot we call Puddle Pond.
No comments:
Post a Comment