Raising Kids

Sometime last spring, my husband decided he wanted some goats. Actually, the idea didn't come out of thin air. We had been talking about how to restore our waterfront view of the lake. Scrub, weeds and vine grow like crazy in the Florida humidity, and there was no way my husband could physically remove the verdant wall of green stuff. He had tried to find a sickle bar mower used, but no luck. Then the conversation turned to goats, and he thought we ought to give them a try.

We went to see the Goat Lady and came home with two handsome, healthy male Boers. They were some good looking goats. We decided to name them Elvis and Jerry Lee because they were full of spit and fire and knew what they wanted, mainly to be left alone. My husband tethered them out in the yard and we were in the goat mowing business.

But not for long. We had a tremendous Florida thunderstorm one afternoon and somehow Elvis and Jerry Lee broke loose from their tethers. When I came home from school, my husband was in his shop, tired, angry with himself, and desperately trying to come up with some kind of goat trap to set up in the woods and woo the boys back. The trap went out but came back empty. We never saw those wild boys again and figure they either became coyote food or made a run for the Alabama border.

So, goats again. A few months ago, we decided to give it another try. This time, however, my husband had built a shed and completed an enclosure. We would keep them penned until spring. Then, they would be familiar with us and know this place as home. This time we were ready. He brought home two females, not as pretty as the boys, but goats all the same. One of the females was older, had a beard, and was obviously pregnant. I named her Dolly. The other was black and white with a marking like a heart on her forehead. I named her Corazon, Cora for short.The girls settled down and we got into the habit of twice a day feedings that included hay, fresh veggies, and sweet feed. They were shy, but since they'd spent most of their lives in a big field without humans around, that was understandable. We figured they would eventually warm up to us.

Did I say that never did I imagine even a year ago that we would be raising goats?

The morning after Christmas, my husband and I went out to check on the girls. We heard a little "whaaaa" coming from the shed and peeked inside. Cora, not Dolly, had dropped a kid. We went back inside to share the news and the next time we came out, there was another baby, a smaller runt and therefore even more lovable. A few days later, after watching the kids perform their natural functions, we christened them Elvis an Jerry Lee. We were back in the goat business.

We had concerns, however, about Cora's ability to feed the babies. My husband thought she might be a first time mother and often, at least with cows, they don't produce enough milk for their young. So, off we went to Tractor Supply to buy powdered milk supplement. It took some practice, but the boys picked up on the bottle and have been eagerly greeting us for twice a day feedings for the past week or so. Even more gratifying than seeing their little bellies fill up after each meal is the satisfaction of watching their stubby tails go to wagging with joy as they take down the milk. Cora has continued to feed them some, but it's obvious that the supplement has helped them thrive. Even the runt, Jerry Lee, has put on weight and can do the goat dance as nimbly his brother.

We wondered when Dolly would drop her load.

This morning was the day, as it turned out. We saw her in the shed, alone, and knew something was up when she didn't come out for breakfast. We peeked in. Sure enough, delivery was underway. The small parcels were not moving, and I had a bad feeling about that, but before we left, my husband reported there was one brown baby sitting near the door. We would have to wait until after church to see how things turned out.

Poor Dolly. She delivered four kids, but two were stillborn. My husband buried them this afternoon and I'm sure he said a few words because that's the kind of man he is. He cleaned out the shed and came in to let me know Dolly and her babies were out in the pen. I went to check them out.

They are so small and wobbly. How can something like that carve a space for itself in the world? There is one white and light brown one, the brown about the same color as the apricot on Jerry Lee. The other baby, the runt, is brown and white with markings that remind me of a deer or antelope. We watched to see if they would feed. My husband took Dolly in the shed and we brought the bigger kid in, but he/she seemed at a loss. Pulling on Dolly's teat brought no milk; she was plenty big, but not releasing. What now?

My husband decided we would be the ones to give the kids their first meal. He mixed up some supplement in the kitchen and filled the baby bottles we'd been using with Jerry Lee and Elvis. Trying to teach the newborns how to take the bottle was a task. They sounded like human infants, wailing with their pink tongues sticking out. But finally, slowly, we were able to get half a bottle each into each kid. Elvis and Jerry Lee eagerly cleaned up the leftovers.

I held the little runt until it fell asleep cuddled next to my chest. I said a prayer that he or she would make it through the night and take the bottle again in the morning. Selfish Prayer #34215, I guess. But a girl's got to hope, and I don't know how that happens without faith.

Our herd is now at six and we'll probably end up selling Elvis and Jerry Lee because my husband says it's easier to keep females. That will be hard, I can tell you. We've already grown attached to the little guys; their dependence has done that. I remember a few weeks ago when they were wobbly and unsure, and we didn't know if Jerry Lee was going to make it. Now, he's in the food trough pretending to eat with the mothers and jumping around the pen like a holy roller. My husband says that Elvis climbs on Dolly like he's playing King of the Mountain, and she's docile enough to let him do it. Yes, it will be hard letting those two fellas go.

We've got time to think about that. Thank goodness.