Drama on the Farmlette...

 Today started off in a typical, pleasant fashion. I got ready for work, did animal chores, tidied the house a bit, then began working. We were just finishing up grooming our first dog of the day, and the second customer arrived a little early and was sitting and chatting with us. The weather was exceptionally fine: blue skies, low humidity, and a soft breeze blew through the open windows. All was well. Until suddenly, it wasn't. 

We heard a goat scream. From where we work, we have a good view of the goat cozy and a long, elevated bridge I had a carpenter friend build for them several years ago. The goats love this spot, and after breakfast on a nice day, they lie up there contentedly chewing their cuds and surveying their domain. It is usually a very peaceful scene. 

When the terrible sound of a goat screaming in pain and fear reached my ears, I jumped and looked outside. There, to my horror, I saw a goat hanging, suspended head down from the bridge, her hind leg stuck in the ramp. I don't move as fast as I once did and knew it would take me a bit to get out there to help her. Time was clearly of the essence. The panicked goat vocalizations continued, causing a massive dose of adrenaline to dump into my bloodstream. My very pregnant daughter was there with me. "You can move faster than I can," I said, but I was talking to the back of her head; she was already on her way. I put the dog I was grooming into a crate, asked my customer to be patient, and headed out to help. My daughter somehow moved at warp speed... through the house, across the long deck, down some wonky stairs, through the back yard, through the tricky gate, over the muddy pasture, through another gate, and with strength driven by panic, quickly lifted the dangling goat back onto the bridge.

This is the goat in question. She is a recent addition to our place and such a pleasant one. She is lovely to look at with her gazelle-like facial markings and sweeter and friendlier than any goat we've ever had except our very first one. She is a dream on the milk stand and produces sweet, delicious milk. Having favorites probably isn't nice, but she ranks high on the "best girl" list. Her name is Happy. 

Once Rachel lifted her from her dangling position, she had another problem. Happy's leg was stuck tight in the gap at the top of the ramp. Mind you, this ramp and bridge have been used by countless goats for years with no difficulties, but today, a freak accident occurred. Here is the area where it all happened. 

See the black and white goat? Happy's leg was wedged just to the right of where her left front leg is, and she was suspended, head down, in that triangle of space you see between the two animals. 

With some skill and finesse, Rachel managed to free the jammed leg. Happy laid there, stunned, until Rachel gently lifted her down. She walked off on three legs. I was on the phone to my veterinarian so fast! 

In the end, Happy seems to be ok. She didn't get so much as a scrape, though her lower leg is slightly swollen.  She is limping but bearing weight. I have given her an injection of anti-inflammatory medication, and my husband and son-in-love will help fashion something to ensure no goat ever gets stuck in the ramp again. 

My pleasant morning went awry, but my amazing daughter saved the day, and my dear little goat seems to be not much worse for her awful adventure. 

Toddling...

   The Owlet and I took a little walk out into the pasture today. She loves to be outside, and her joy is contagious. 

The goats ran to greet us, and the Owlet giggled with glee, petting them happily. They seemed glad to see her, too. 

We strolled around, and the goats all joined us. I plopped the Owlet up on top of a big pile of hay. She enjoyed the lofty perch and throwing handfuls of dry grass into the breeze. After a long time, she slid all the way down to the bottom and was so pleased with herself. 

She stopped to pick some flowers in her chubby fists on the way back. "Mama!" she said, and we brought the bounty back to be proudly presented. 

To see the world through a toddler's eyes is a blessing beyond compare. 

Wag It Camp...

 Bravo and I snuck in a little summer adventure and attended Wag It Camp again this year. The brainchild of my dog training friend Sumac Grant-Johnson, the camp is open to people who enjoy working with and training their dogs. It is held on the beautiful, peaceful grounds of a Catholic children's summer camp, on the shore of stunning Lake Ossipee in New Hampshire. 

Because we have been several times, there are lots of friends and familiar faces to enjoy, as well as the opportunity to meet new friends, both canine and human. 

I stayed in the most adorable little cottage. It had a wee screened porch, a bedroom, and a small bath. I rarely have any time in my life when I am alone. This is a wonderful thing, something I am deeply grateful for, but every once in a while it is a treat to be by myself for a brief period. I read an entire novel without interruption. Heavenly. 

Bravo got to flirt with a pretty little Golden Retriever lass, and his old friend Kellie, a Brittany Spaniel. He met a few other dogs he liked as well. 

We attended some classes and he behaved nicely through it all. He got to swim and fetch and splash, and spend almost every moment with his favorite human, me. He was a happy boy, busy all day and sleeping hard at night. 

It took some convincing to get him to let me get into my cozy sleeping bag, even though there was plenty of bed for him share. 

Meanwhile, at home, Rachel kept the business humming along, and Chris took over all the animal chores. He learned to milk the diminutive goats, took time to cuddle baby Shine to keep her friendly, nurtured the chickens and kept an eye on the cows. He helped keep the Owlet busy while her mama worked, too. What a guy. My dear Aunt Pearl had it right the day she noted, "You have a real helpmate with him." Indeed I do. 

Our little summer adventure was a sweet treat, the sort of nugget I will keep as a warm and happy memory to recall in the dead of winter when a storm is howling outside.  I am thankful for the opportunity and the support system that made it happen, and for quiet time with my best boy dog. 

Goats and chickens...

The new baby goat is the apple of our eye. I let my 6-year-old great-niece choose her name. She will be known as "Shine." 

I want her to be tame and friendly, so I pick her up every chance I get. This morning I brought her into the backyard for a cuddle. She closed her eyes and took a little nap. It was blissful. 

I am puzzled about what color she will end up becoming. When she was born, I thought she was black with just the big white swirl on her head. After she was well dried, I could see little white dots sprinkled about. They seem to become more pronounced by the day.  In the sun, the hair on her face is almost silver. And one eye is blueish, the other more golden. The white tip on her tail is the cutest.

Plenty Goat is not sure what all the fuss is about. She is convinced that she is the prettiest of the herd. She certainly is the bossiest! 

Last week I saw a post from the guy I have been buying my chickens from the previous two years. He had some Lavender Orpington pullets for sale. Orpingtons are calm, docile birds and decent egg layers. The Lavender ones are particularly lovely. Although I think our current laying flock of 6 hens and a rooster is enough, Chris was convinced that the birds would stay warmer in the big coop this winter if there were more. Who am I to ignore my husband's suggestion that we get more animals? Yesterday we had a lovely hour-and-a-half drive to a little town near Bangor, where we gathered our 6 newest flock members. They are pretty now and will be beautiful when they mature. 

They are in a temporary coop until they get bigger and acclimate to the place. Last night we had heavy rain. I went to check on them at bedtime, and the foolish things were asleep in a pile, pressed against the grated door, getting soaking wet. I trudged back up to the garage, got two thick flakes of hay, and laid them at the center of the coop, up off the damp grass. I put a small flashlight into the enclosure so they could see and nudged them away from the door onto the dry hay. With mutters of protest, they complied. I watched, getting drenched, as they preened some water from their feathers and settled down. I secured the cover of the gas grill over the door to prevent rain from blowing in that way in case they decided to resume lying there, left the light on for them, and went to bed, fretting.  They are all fine this morning, nibbling on grass, catching the occasional bug, and basking in the sun. After this one display of stupidity, I hope they will mature into excellent farmlette additions. 

Goats and chickens are my current focus these days. What could be better? 

The good, the bad and the peaceful...

I love to kayak. Everything about it makes me happy. The sight of sparkling open water, the fringe of trees rising over the rocky shoreline, the scent and motion of the water, the solitude. It all fills my soul with joy. 

I was scared to take my kayak out this summer. It's a little heavy, and I was worried I might not be strong enough after my surgery and recuperation to get it in and out of my truck. I was also concerned that I might not be able to get in and out of the boat with my dandy new knee. I finally gave myself a firm talking to and hauled the kayak out from where it had been leaning against the side of the house. I displaced many spiders from their nests and dragged the little boat to my truck. I lifted the heaviest end first and rested it on the tailgate. Then I pushed from the light end and, to my delight, was able to slide it right in. I was filled with a giddy kind of triumph. I gave it a little extra push before I closed the tailgate.  A sickening popping sound ensued, and the rear glass of the pickup window shattered into a bazillion pieces. That was bad. 

I started to let this accident ruin my day. Then I got a grip and continued on with my plan, driving off with the sound of tinkling glass raining out from the ruined window. I unloaded the kayak near the boat ramp and managed to haul it to the water's edge. I got in as gracelessly as I did before my surgery. And then I shoved off, reminding myself of the rhythm of paddling. Aside from some splashing children loudly proclaiming summer joy, the lake was nearly silent. No motorboats interrupted the still surface, but a large fish splashed beside me, its scales flashing silver in the late afternoon light. 

A turtle watched me with a sharp eye but didn't relinquish his sunny spot as I passed. I stayed out as long as I could, but supper and evening chores were waiting, so I turned back. Nearing the ramp, I was delighted to see a loon as it surfaced right next to me. I stopped paddling and stayed as still and quiet as I could. The bird dove, sending up huge bubbles, then surfaced even closer. We stared at each other for a while, and I rejoiced in the entire triumphant, peaceful experience. 

New kid..!

 Grace Goat has been looking very pregnant. By my calculations, she was due next week. She was showing some signs of kidding... the ligaments at the base of her tail were relaxed, but her udder wasn't filling up, and she was acting very normal. During a heavy rainstorm this afternoon, Chris came down from his office and said, "One of the goats is yelling a lot." I abandoned poor Rachel to the dog we were grooming and headed out. A brand new, soaking wet, tiny kid was just inside the door. Her mama and the other adult goats were on the other side of the cozy, staring in wonder at the wee dark blob.  Chris was right behind me with clean towels. I scooped the kid up, cleared her face, and gave her a good rubdown. 

In a moment or two, her new mother overcame the delivery shock and dove in to help clean the new arrival. I took a moment to check; it was a girl (doeling) and such pretty markings. 

After she was cleaned up some, we helped her get a little drink. She had no trouble grasping the concept. 

The family came out to meet the new arrival. The Owlet was a little unsure. 

In the past, we've had kids from full-sized goats. They were small, but not this small. Here is the new arrival next to my shoe for a size comparison. 

She is up, nursing, and looks pretty healthy and robust. Her mama is eating, drinking, and taking excellent care of her new kid. I am delighted with the latest life at FairWinds. We are casting about for the perfect name, so please feel free to send suggestions. (The current goats are as follows: Plenty, Grace, Glory, and Happy. A name that follows along a similar theme would be good.)

Welcome to the world, baby girl! 

Unexpected guest...

 From where I sit to work, I have a fantastic view of the goat cozy, Billy Goat Gruff bridge, and many animal antics. It's a delight. Yesterday we noticed three goats standing at one end of the bridge, on full alert. They were posed similarly to this picture, but ears forward, eyes intent on something, and bodies rigid. They stood statue still, just staring. Rachel checked to see if there was a fox or something concerning and could not see anything to be alarmed over. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. But still, the goats stayed statue still, riveted to something we did not see.  Rachel checked again and returned breathlessly, "Mom, get your camera!" 

I did as instructed and was so glad. Although we see deer in our meadow often, I've never seen a fawn up close until I turned the corner in the backyard and glanced into the chicken area. 

                            

                             

 It stayed about an hour, then wedged through the fence and went crying to find its mama. 

A lovely, unexpected guest.