Catching Up: Llama, Llama who's your Mama?

"Ama, Ama!"

It was several months ago, and Baby Bee was reaching toward me, nearly shrieking with delight. I reflected his enthusiasm, adding a helping of my own excitement.

"That's right Baby Bee, I'm MAMA!" I  pointed at myself, expanding on his gesture. "Mama!"

You wait for this moment as a parent. You wait and hope and when it doesn't come you are grateful for the other things--like words or communication at all. You learn that kids on the spectrum or with language delays often have some unusual first words. He'd mastered GOAT and DATE as in, "Let's go on a date" or "What's the date today?" But I was still waiting to hear him to refer to me as anything besides "milk." Adding Mama as his fourth word felt exhilarating.  

"Ahhhh-ma!"

"That's right, Mama!"

Baby Bee was no longer delighted. His face scrunched, preparing for his hallmark scream of frustration. He reached toward me again emphasizing the first syllable. "ahhhhh-ma."

He was still reaching so I figured he wanted picked up. 

He didn't. 

(I have the bite marks to prove it.)

I heard a noise outside and reflectively glanced over my shoulder toward the window. In our house, we hear noises, talk about noises, and search out their source. Then we talk about them some more.

But I didn't make it past a first glance. Instead, something on the window sill caught my eye.

Llama, llama who's your Mama?

Yep. That's right.

 A llama.*








*Technically this IS an alpaca. We know this. But somehow we got into a habit of calling it a llama and we just couldn't stop.

Labor: Unassisted and In A Barn

You thought that title was about referring to me, huh? Nope! Lula Mae had her babies yesterday!!

(Actually, this happened several months ago, but I was nearing my own birth and never managed to publish the post.)

Watching my strong, stubborn goat transformed by the power of labor was beautiful. We took comfort in the facts that animal birth is, for all intents and purposes, a natural, organic process and that Lula Mae was an "experienced" mama. Sure, we read (all the books ever written) on goat labor and birth, had our birth kit nearby and kept the number of a local vet handy, but mostly we hoped she'd do it all herself. Which she did.

Even though she had all the mechanics of birth covered, she begged for us to stick around. As early labor turned into active labor she panted with her head pressed against my shoulder, leaning into the comfort of our touch and presence. We've heard some kinds of goats can actually delay their births by up to two weeks, and I am confident Lula Mae waited till she had both of us home on holiday.

Lula Mae waiting for the next contraction

I've been nearby but never attended a birth before--human or otherwise. I was in awe. Lula knew just what to do, putting her front legs up high on the hay feeder as she pushed, pacing on her breaks, moaning through the pain and occasionally biting the thick wood of the barn to cope.

Soon, her effort paid off and we saw the first signs of life poking into this world--only instead of a tiny nose, we saw a tiny tail. Her baby was breach! After two hours went by with only a tail birthed, we knew the kid was in danger and that assistance would be required.

A tail--not a nose--was our first sign of life

Just as I pulled on my long plastic glove, Lula Mae gave a deep grunt and pushed out the baby's hips.

Relieved, I returned to my role of goat doula as Mr. Bee assumed the role of stand-by midwife. Another few pushes and the baby plopped on the group, a slimy beautiful mess. Lula immediately began to bite away at the sac and lick it's face--all the while still pushing.

A tail poked out and we knew another baby was on its way! This one slid out more easily but didn't stir once it hit the ground. When kids are born breach, they don't have the same pressure on the way out of the birth canal, and it is easy for them to come out having mucous in their lungs. Mr. Bee picked up the second kid and swung it by its ankles. I watched as mucous spewed out and the tiny body began to cough and breath.



A family was born.

Lula Mae licked her babies continually and made the most wonderful cooing noises at them. They struggled to suckle but eventually got the hang of things. Within 5 minutes the wobbly legged babies were wandering around. One of them even went outside!

Desi and December, 1 hour old
Each year, a different letter is used in the goat breeding world for record keeping, and it is common to name the babies using that letter as the first letter to their names. This year the letter is "D".

We felt so privileged to witness Lula's birth experience and to greet her little ones moments after they arrived. We were so caught up in the moment that we forgot we had our own birthing class to attend!! We showed up covered in afterbirth and hay, but our instructors said it was the best and most unusual reason for being late she'd ever heard.

Chicks

New to us this year are chickens! Yes, 4 little chicks that prove why duck-raising is both more enjoyable and more challenging than chicken raising. 

Here’s Tippy Canoe. She’s a buff orpington.  Right now, she is at the top of the pecking order, but also the biggest (most mature chicken) of the bunch.

Miss Tippy

Then we have HennyPenny and Lexie, the Barred Rocks. To me, these are classic “farm” chickens with their wide behinds and speckled black feathers. Henny Penny is also known as the Brave Barred as she rarely scatters when I come by to feed them or go to pick them up.

Lex & Pen at the Front

Lastly, we have Eggy Peggy, a silver-laced Wyandotte. She’s small now (younger) but will grow up to be decently sized chicken.

The littlest chicken of all - Eggy Peggy

They all will be medium to large birds with brown eggs. I’m surprised at how soft they are. And how quiet. These things are church mice compared to ducks! I also thought they were all dying in the first 48 hours because they hardly drank any water and they were going through food at a rate that made me wonder if they had worms. Nope. They are just chickens.

While daily care for them might be easier than our ducks, they aren’t intelligent. But then, maybe that makes them all the more lovable...

Adoption

It's been quiet around this electronic homestead, but don't for a moment think it's been quiet in our physical world. Generally, I like to write about things that are solid, or at minimum, unsettled things whose uncertainty I can count on. Instead, life has consisted of "we'll-have-to-see" or "we-won't-know-till-we-get-there"  moments, with a whole lot of decision-making thrown in. Over the coming days and weeks, I'll find the space to write about it all, and hopefully whether through this process or through time, will find solid footing I want.

One thing I know for sure is that homesteading takes you over, and over again, through the full cycle of life.

We recently lost two of our ducks. Butry, one of the big white ones, and one of "The Littles" that we hand-raised. It was torture. I went outside one Saturday morning to let the Ducks out and I counted. But before I could finish counting, I knew they were not all there.

Each morning, four quacking ducks gather at my feet waiting for treats and love. This morning there were only two. "Why couldn't it have been one of the other ducks?" I asked myself over and over again as I struggled to make peace with the truth. You know the outcome. You know it already happened, but  somehow you want to change it so it's just a little bit better. A little more palatable. Why I couldn't it have been a duck without a name?

I was scouring our property, scouring every bush and suspecting every owl that dare cry. I had to find them.
I searched each night and each morning. I would look into the thick forest and hope any moment the ducks would come waddling out, having had a great adventure but ready to return home. I was consumed with a longing I've rarely known.

Hope springs eternal.

In the end, I found something, though not what I was hoping for. The neighbors who sold us the goat, called us and asked if he had a home for their now-lonely Peckin, whose flock-mates had become the recent dinner of a raccoon or dog. We arranged the adoption, and are grateful for the addition. Our flock-family feels a little more complete, but I think there's still room for more.

Welcome, Ms. Duck.

Sneak Peak

I'd say that we've been busy, but in truth, it's just that a lot has been going on around us. In the mean time, we remind ourselves of what's coming very soon, and we wanted to show you a glimpse of our future too.

Ready?



The two gray ones are going to be ours. LuLa Mae is standing in the back right and her daughter Chloe is standing in the front left. The big one in front is Chloe's grandma, the brown little in the back is Lula Mae's other child.

You want a close up of the baby, don't you?

I can hardly wait till they are ours!

Dos mas...estamos locos.

Muscovies from a swap meet last weekend. Tame and highly educated.
More to come soon.

Batch Three: One-half Dozen

Freshly hatched and settled in. Hard to ask for anything more when you've got 6 little ones as cute as these!

Week One--Updated!

 It's a little late, but here are the pictures from arrival day! In the words of Mr. Bee to his students, "And now I will melt your face with cuteness."

Here they are, 3 days old:

 Update: Mr. Bee took this super-sweet video one night when they were *trying* to sleep.

 

 Eating, drinking and sleeping are the primary activities of our babies.

What's in your mailbox?

This is what we got in the mail a little less than a week ago.
14 ducks in total (they threw in an extra khaki campbell).

Make sure your sound is on for the full experience!

I don't think I will clutter this posts with many more words.

We'll have weekly photo updates so check back often. 

Go ahead, just hit "replay."

You know you want to.

 :)