Sad but true

Today started out like every other day... and then it took an unexpected and irrevocable turn.  I sent Kyle down the mountain to rest, because he apparently was struck with a stomach flu.  So I was milking on my own while my small child slept. 

I had two goats on the milking machine while I hand milked Iris, and then Pleasant finished up and Edelweiss took her place.  But Weiss wasn't eating and she didn't really want to hold still either.  The does have been acting squirrelly off and on, since breeding season is upon us, and I didn't think too much about it.

But then she pooped on the milkstand, something that she never does.  Only Guava ever does that, and now that I think about it, she's dropped that trait in the last few months.  So I cleaned up the mess and went back to milking... and then she pooped again.

I finished milking her AFTER she laid down on the bench.  What?  Goats do not just lay down randomly.  I took her outside where she immediately laid down again, pooped, peed, cried out a few times and died.

Yes, you heard me right.  My lovely, young, sweet LaMancha doe passed away quickly this morning- leaving me at quite a loss.  My heart feels empty and sad.  Nonetheless, I had chores to do.  9 more does to milk and milk to pour and breakfast to make. 

In between moving does onto the milkstand, I butchered Edelweiss on a tarp... just downhill from the milkhouse.  She had the loveliest dark maroon liver, and plenty of internal fat- but not too much.  Nothing apparently wrong, though there was a considerable amount of clotted blood when I opened her up.  The liver was lacerated, and a lung was bruised.

Thinking back, I put her in to breed with Ivory Jack 5 days ago.  She's been quiet and even more docile than usual ever since- but I thought it was just hormones.  I was wrong.  He must have pushed her into a wall or something and injured her internally.

I packaged her meat to be ground, froze a bunch of bones for soup, set aside her belly fat for winter animal feed, and put her heart/kidneys/liver away for future dinners.  It's a pretty sad day to see your favorite doe reduced to meat in the freezer.  She was a good friend and protector for my daughter.  I'm going to miss her. 

Dog days of... summer?

The sun finally came out.  It's been a long month to say the least.  Rainy day after rainy day... and hopefully all behind us.  Everyone I know could use a little dry weather to relax and catch up on necessary chores, not to mention the boost that much needed direct sunlight gives our biochemical brains.

I scrubbed the floors before milking this morning, transplanted a bunch of freebie tomato and pepper and tomatillo and basil plants at lunch time, and got one out of three sheep sheared this afternoon.  Make a wish the weather holds so the other two can get done soon.

We tried to count meatbirds yesterday, I think there's 175 milling around the front yard.  They've been exceptionally easy this year... lots of space to move em around to fresh ground, and the Cornish Cross race has even restored my faith that traditional meatbirds can actually pasture successfully on their own.

Beth's milk is coming in, with somewhere between 1/2 and 3/4 of a gallon daily already!  Zoey is in with Ivory Jack making babies, and all else seems to be well in the goat world... except that Mango's Boy has a bit of a cough.  Everyone's feet are trimmed and life is good.

Ben's been gone flying quite a bit, with last minute business coming in the door.  Can't complain about that at all, though Taslyn is definitely missing her Daddy, and I get talk to him more on the phone than in person.

I heard it frosted down in the Valley, and I'm expecting to see snow down to brushline any morning now.  The time is coming, as evidenced by the changing colors of foliage all around us.  Even the chickens eggs are starting to show the season, sad as it is.

But alas, all things have their own sweet timing, and before we know it we'll be zipping down the mountain on snow skis, admiring hoar frost down at the spring, and having snowball fights in the yard.  I love winter, even more than I love summer.  I guess it's good I live where I do.

After all, it's a choice right?  Lots of work, lots of weather, lots of dreams... mountains of gratitude.

Lost kid

Beth gave birth to a lovely elf-eared doeling tonight.  The baby was stuck though... both her front legs were hooked and I didn't get there in time to help.  I was just finishing up milking when I heard her yell.  There's not much that gets a farmer's attention quicker than the sound of an animal in distress.

The legs slipped out so easily, as soon as I hooked them with my index fingers.  It was a senseless death, and no one's fault but my own.  Such a pretty baby, and a girl to boot.  I cleaned up Beth and milked her out.  She has a nice soft milkable udder.  I took a quart of colostrum from her and turned her out.  Sad night.

The rainy season

OMG.  It's rained the last 28 days in a row.  And now the local news service is telling us that it's time for the rainy season to begin.  It's true, I guess.  I mean, it always rains for the state fair which is coming up in a couple weeks.  And it always rains for sheep season which began on the 10th of August.  So yeah, the rainy season is here.

Yesterday though, when I walked down the mountain with our little girl to deliver eggs to the hatchery and cheese wheels to a neighbor, I found a few dry patches on the trail and some berries on the bushes.  A brief reminder of what summer should be- but wasn't.

That's right.  You heard me.  Summer is a thing of the past.  I'd say twenty percent of the trees I can see from my window have started to turn color.  The rose hips are red, half of the garlic is harvested, the potatoes are flowering.

I must find some time today, between making mountains of cheddar, to wander into the big backyard in search of blueberries.  Then I'm going to run some milk through a cream separator that I'm trying out, to see if it can replace our antique hand crank model.  Make a wish that everything goes as planned today.  I could use a day of no surprises, a little progress and no rain!

Smooth as silk

Yeah, baby.  I've finally put two and two together.  Yes, I'm a little slow... but we all just are who we are.  Wanna know what I did? It's so simple that I feel stupid to not have thought of it sooner. 

Okay, here it is.  I got smart enough to put broody hens in with my chicks.  Most everyone puts heat lamps on their babies, but that's not much of an option here. 

I've had all these broody hens this summer just sitting around... and now I've put them to work.  100 day-old chicks arrived at the Post Office yesterday.  And they all survived the night with one 2 year old Turken to mother them.  Cool stuff.

Actually, I'm super psyched.  This is a major breakthrough for my early mortality problem.  Of the 50 chicks that came home 11 days ago, I believe I only lost 2.  It was the Turken mothering them too.  She rocks.

Why didn't I think of this sooner?  The 50 chicks that arrived 3 weeks ago did not fare so well.  I think about 20 died, mostly from piling.  It's been a cold summer.  Not quite the coldest I've seen, but probably the wettest.  And I've had fires in the woodstoves probably 80% of the days since the snow left.

I also lost all 8 of the Chanteclers that I "rescued" from the hatchery.  That was the night that it rained longer and harder than I've ever seen it here on the mountain.  They were on the bottom of the pile too.

But now I feel older and wiser... one step at a time, my friends.  I hope my discovery can help some of your chicks survival rates.  I'm so excited that it's done so well for me.