Midnight Check... Or, How I Could Accidentally Stay Up All Night Watching Goats Pee...
I'm thawing and allowing myself to get sleepy a moment by blogging in the warm house. You see, I just got in from the "midnight" goat check (something I volunteered for, because I truly enjoy it...). This check should be a quick walk through. A drive-by tail check. A thorough, but fast glance. Should. Here's how I nearly was found, frozen and starving, six hours later (nearly, because I eventually snapped out of my stupor and dragged myself back home...)1. Go to the barn. Cold air is invigorating and wakes me up.
2. Notice, on first sweep, that a doe is "hunching" and shifting frequently... sure signs of labor. Tail is loose, behavior edgy. Wahoo! Jackpot! I'm going to be here to witness/assist/feel totally useful.
3. While watching edgy-hunchy doe, notice another doe is nested down in the corner. She's due, too.
4. Notice a third doe at the hayrack whose sides are rolling- contractions?
5. Notice a massively-pregnant-size-of-small-planet-doe in a corner alone, resting, but suspiciously nested down.
6. Huh. Hunchy-doe has since wandered to the hayrack and started gorging. Maybe she's getting energy for an imminent delivery...
7. Nesty doe is now in a deep sleep, flat on her side...
8. Hay rack doe is now grunting and complaining, laying in a nest... progress?
9. Small planet (who, ironically, is named "Star..." and is the size of one...) is standing with her feet elevated- a sign.
7. Hunchy doe is hunching again, biting her sides, and pacing... Oh, this is going to be any moment.
Repeat this pattern for an hour. One doe up, one doe down, all of them exhibiting "sure signs," including: hunching, biting at side/udder, pacing, pawing, grunting, moaning, breathing funny, yawning, and squatting. Every time I begin to give up and leave, one of them gives a great, theatrical "sign," and I stay. A coyote very nearby in the woods gives out a loud howl, giving more motivation to stay put (behind electric fencing and next to a guard llama sounds fine to me, thank you very much.) I begin to contemplate just how comfortable that seat could be for napping (as I'm typing this, I'm wondering if I lowered that back down... maybe I should go back out and check?) ...
Thoughts start to run through my mind. They go something like this: "Huh. I've just stood here for an hour, staring at goat parts, watching goats chew cuds, pee, sleep, and scratch themselves... I really need to go to bed now... I probably need help if I can't tear myself away from watching goats pee...."
Eventually, I realize that this is like playing the lottery. If I only play enough (stay long enough), it is inevitable that I'll be there for the jackpot. Of course, this could mean 5 or 6 or 12 hours of sitting in a dimly moon-lit, increasingly cold barn... reason wins. I stand up to leave. As I do so, a doe that I hadn't even been watching lays at my feet and begins to breathe in great, labored grunts. I realize this is a conspiracy to make me look like a loon, wish the girls well, and amble back to the house, listening for sounds of labor.
I'm sure by now, just as I've thawed and gotten sleepy again, that there are at least 4 does in active labor. They planned it that way. Someone will be out for the next rounds soon, so perhaps we'll beat them at their game yet. I'll be sleeping, and see those new kids tomorrow... or a barn full of pregnant does, looking for all the world like the just spent the night laughing.
Seven Hours Later...
Little doe- Oreo? |
Proud and protective Mama |
"Motherhood is exhausting." OR, "Boy, I wish I had opposable thumbs and some wipes... this is gross." |