Good days and bad mothers...

It's been a dry summer so far, but we had a heavy downpour yesterday afternoon, complete with thunder and lots of lightning. I like a good storm, but poor Bravo does not. He shivers and quakes, slinks and hides, pants and shakes. It's pitiful. The storm happened right at milking time. Goats very much dislike going out in the rain, and in order to milk them I have to go fetch them from their cozy, get them through the pasture gate and across the back yard to the garage where I have a little milking area set up. I figured my chance of doing this in the middle of a violet storm without anyone getting hurt or upset was slim, so while dark clouds layered over the house, hurtling sheets of noisy rain against the window glass, I fixed a little supper and bided my time. With my little donkey cam working, I was able to see that the goats were resting, chewing their cuds, looking out at the storm.

Once things calmed down I invited them in for some supper. Bliss' udder was impressive.

I know she feels better after I milk her, but she does not make it easy. She kicks and bucks and throws tantrums, despite the bucket of good food I park in front of her face. Seriously bratty behavior.

While we are on bad behavior, let me tell you about the worst mothers of the year. I have had 4 hens sitting on eggs. One hatched three chicks, and they are doing well. The others have had chicks hatch, but they keep dying. Every day I find a dead chick or two, and it's depressing. Today I nipped out to check on the chicks and make sure they had food and water, and found an newly hatched chick, injured an alone lying in a pile of shavings. I had the brilliant idea that I should tuck it up under a broody hen so she could mother it. As I did, the hen snatched the chick from my grasp and tried to kill it. I spoke firmly to the hen, (actually, I snatched her off her nest and gave her a good shake,) and tucked the chick in my pocket. I realized that these broody hens are lacking any mothering instinct and decided I had to take action before any more chicks were hurt or killed. I gave it some thought while I treated the injured chicks wounds, gave it a drink of water, and tucked it into a warm space. Then I got an idea. I called the woman who bought the other chicks I sold last week. She had mentioned that she had an incubator. I offered her the eggs, each on the brink of hatching, and the injured chick. She's a veterinary technician and has lots of experience nursing chickens. She came right over.By the time she arrived another chick had hatched and been injured. We packed up the eggs and chicks and off she went. Crisis averted. I won't let any more of those horrible mothers try to hatch any babies. It is way too sad. .

Click saw me stomping back from the coop in bad humor. He flopped down on the deck step in front of me, asking for a belly rub. He's impossible to resist.

During the height of summer we are already looking towards fall and the long cold months to come. We have one trailer load of hay neatly stacked in the garage, and another coming tonight. Two cords of good split oak are piled on the side lawn. These things make me feel rich. 

All day Rachel and I groom dogs and cats in the pretty studio. We have been busier than ever this summer, and have had to stop taking new dogs. We have been opening early and working late, trying to fit everyone in. 

Despite the bad mothers and overly full udders, these summer days are long and full and good. I am so lucky to be here on this farmlette.