Even more kids.

“Hey.  What’s going on in there?”  Lisa looks in at the activity in the barn.

The other day, as I was settling into one of my many projects, Jenn came up from the goat pen at a fast jog.  Nutmeg, our other female goat, had just kidded an hour or so earlier: “Everything all right?” I asked. 

“No.” Jenn said breathlessly, running past me and into the house.  ”She’s having trouble with a second one.”

“Do you need my help?” I offered, in that way that people do when they are certain the answer will be “no.”

“Yes.” Jenn said, disappearing into the house. 

Not knowing what to expect, but also having some idea of what I might be in for, I went in the house and washed my hands.  Hands dry, I dashed out of the house and headed toward the goat pen.  Jenn had beat me there so when I arrived it was to the sight of her up to her forearm in goat:

“I have to push his head back in – his legs are stuck!”  she offered by way of explanation.  Then, looking off into the middle distance as though picturing what she could not see, she tried to find the little buckling’s legs.  “I’ve got one!” she said.  A few more seconds of searching  ”And… there’s… the… other one!”   Both legs were now outside of Nutmeg, along with the head which was making its second appearance of the morning.  Jenn helped Nutmeg with the rest of the delivery, cleaned off the little gaffer and made sure he was nursing properly, which he wasn’t.

And it is thus that Swirly – yeah, that’s right: “Swirly” – entered the world.  He’s just now, two days later, figured out how to nurse from Nutmeg.  Up until now we’ve been feeding him with a syringe.

Jenn and Nutmeg caring for a seconds old billygoat.

Nutmeg has been slow to recover – it’s likely that she has a septic uterus now because of the difficult delivery and some retained afterbirth.   Her temperature rose two degrees overnight, which for a goat is apparently significant.  Today we had no choice but to medicate her.  But with what?  We don’t have anything here and a vet call to the house would be astronomically expensive, being a Sunday and all.  So, Jenn did the next best thing: she called a lady who was selling goats in the local Bargain Hunter magazine.  She was very kind and gave Jenn not only some good advice but sold us a shot that would help Nutmeg out until the vet can come to the house tomorrow.  I went and picked up the medication – Liquimycin – and the needle and syringe.  After having the shot, Nutmeg began to perk up a bit, so things look promising.  Perhaps all she’ll need now is a uterine flush.

Hunter was able to name the babies again.  This here is the little female, now known as ‘Locks’.  When we suggested to Hunter that maybe ‘Goldilocks’ was a bit far fetched (being that there is no yellow, much less gold, on the baby) she conceded to clip the name to a more generic one.  

Nutmeg, Locks and Swirly.