Restoring the land, making space

The goats cleared out almost all the blackberries from their paddock and we are looking at fencing off a second area that is overrun in salmon and blackberries as well.

Of course as they eat away the foliage we get the pleasure of uncovering more yard decor. I haven't figured out just how people dump things on any land--let alone their own. Instead of feeling ownership over our property (well, let's be honest our mortgage company own most of it anyhow), I mostly feel responsibility. Like I should leave it no worse than I receive it--preferably better.  I want to nurture it so it continues to give back to me and anyone else who ends up here. 

Sometimes things look so neat and tidy until I pull back some of the ground cover and then WHAM! 

Dual purpose

Lula Mae, Chloe and December had a male visitor last month in hopes of bringing goat babies into the world early this fall. Davinci came and left, but hopefully he left a little of his genetic material behind to become his legacy.

Lula (see later in this post to see how much December looks like her!)

Wordless Wednesday: Dreaming of Spring

Photo credit: Jennifer Tudor

 

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.

The Expectant Mothers of The Homestead

If you’ve been keeping up on this homestead tour, you’ll know that Mama Duck is sitting on her clutch of eggs and Lula Mae is growing wider with her expected kid(s) by the day. It’s a privilege to watch how these mothers take care of their not-yet-arrived little ones and how their behavior changes as time gets closer.


Guarding her eggs and stuffing the nest (note how much bedding she's gathered)

The LulaBarrel is packing babies!

But I’d be remiss if I failed to tell you the other anticipated arrival on our homestead. Yes, Mr. Bee and I are expecting our first Baby Bee!

Baby Bee's first closeup!

We’ve waited a long time to share in this forum for a variety of reasons, but now that it is so close, it doesn’t make sense not to share. It’s an exciting time and I’m happy to be in the company of other expectant mothers. As my time draws nearer, I am amazed at how similar all animals act when nesting—including humans.

Let’s just hope Lula Mae and I don’t have too much in common. Our due dates are 2 weeks apart. And we’re both planning on birthing at home. =/ Did I mention she had some ovulatory complications when we were trying to breed her?

Goat update

We’ve had the goats for 7 months. I can’t believe it has been that long! Lula Mae and Chloe add so much humor and joy to our lives, not to mention milk, that it makes them worth the effort.

Lula Mae & Chloe in January

 

Our first half-gallon day!

Lula Mae (the mama goat) is an anxious, finicky goat that is more serious than playful. She continually barks orders at her Chloe or me—if I’m nearby. She’ll let me milk and boss her around in the barn, but as soon as we are in the pasture, she thinks she is the boss. She scolds me for getting out of sight or lagging behind. In case you haven’t seen it, just watch this goats screaming like human video now. And yes, ours really do sound like this.

Here Lula is feasting on some grain (which she gets because she is milking). Her soft undercoat from winter has almost entirely disappeared.

The ducks' bodies may be boats, but mine converts blackberries to milk!

Chloe is the opposite of her mother. She is playful and stubborn. She is 1 year old and acts even younger. She still runs at full speed and jumps all fours(!) onto Lula’s back to reach a high blackberry bramble or just to hitch a ride.

Since our goats have so much to forage, we only supplement their feed. They get 2 different kinds of hay and Lula gets grain. A few months back however, we took Lula Mae to the breeder and due to some ovulation complications, left her there for a few weeks. Chloe was alone and distraught. Mr. Bee and I spent hours trying to comfort her. But when our presence didn’t alleviate her distress, we, like any normal goat parents, turned to food to bribe her. She refused handpicked blackberry leaves, rejected all produce, and even stopped letting us hand-feed her hay. So we tried grain. The sweet, high-calorie grain that Lula eats to make sure she is able to produce milk. Well, Chloe loved it. For those few minutes, she’d stop crying and seem to truly enjoy herself. And after a feeding she seemed somewhat calmer.

Chloe crying through the fence

And thus, we fed her. Sometimes in the milking stanchion like we do with Lula. Sometimes straight out of our hands or from a bucket. A little for breakfast, a snack here, a pity snack there and a hearty dinner.

 

By the time Lula came back, it was clear that we had created a monster. A very large (10 pound over healthy weight) monster. With Lula back, she stopped crying all the time but became obsessed with grain. She was an addict, desperate to get her fix and willing to try everything from coy looks to outright defiance to taste that sweet grain again. Milking Lula Mae became a test of strategies to Chloe from vaulting over the milking room walls or attempting to squeeze between the gate that separates the milking room from the rest of the barn. Often it resulted in Chloe getting her head stuck somewhere, when inevitably her now rollie pollie body refused to fit through an opening. It was a rough transition.

"Who me?" Chloe trying to get into the bag of feed

All this to say, Lula Mae is pregnant and should be kidding this summer. Hopefully she will have two babies (most common) but we will have to wait and see. It’s intriguing to feel little hooves stretch the sides of her belly. Chances are, I’ll be the one “on-call” when she delivers so I have to start reading up on goat labor soon!
 

Chloe is off grain and down to a healthy weight again, but still obsessed. Occasionally she’ll take advantage of a partially latched gate to squeeze into the milking room to steal Lula’s serving. Hopefully, she’ll be thrilled when we breed her next year and she can eat grain twice a day to help her babies grow. Sigh.

Her old self again, but always hoping to earn a treat with that grin.

The goats have done an excellent job clearing out our invasive blackberries and salmonberries. Their paddock used to be so thick with vines that we had to cut a clearing around the barn so they could get out! Soon, I will take you on a tour of their barn and pasture. Maybe I'll even show you Mr. Bee's homemade cheese!

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.

New Kids on the Block

"So, I heard you got goats yesterday."

The voice on the other end of the receiver wasn't asking a question so much as stating a fact she already knew.

"Yeah, yeah we did. It's pretty exciting," I eeked out the words, a little bit taken aback by the rate at which news travel in this news community. We might have spotty reception, but word still gets around I guess. Gossip chains aren't a favorite societal function of mine--however it's a price you pay when your community is small. Mrs. D was one of J&E's friends. She and her partner live a few minutes away. They have a dog that likes to chase sticks and are expecting a little one in a few months. She and J see each other almost daily. I shouldn't be surprised that J&E already told her.

"That's so great! Was it Lula Mae that I heard?"

I paused. Maybe the community gossip chain wasn't that strong after all. I cringed. "Does that mean you...could hear her from your house?"

She laughed, a kind and gentle laugh mixed with no hint of annoyance.

"She was, er, a little upset by her relocation. I think it's settling down now?" This last statement was less of an educated guess and more of a desperate hope. Lula Mae had been making awful, heart-wrenching noises--multi-tonal, throaty bleats that felt more like screams than anything else. Mid-bleat she'd drop her bottom jaw and stick out her tongue to further prove her point.

"Lula Mae's a..sensitive goat," she said, choosing her words carefully. "I'm sure she'll settle down soon. It just takes her some getting used to."  You see, Mrs. D used to help milk Lula Mae in exchange for the milk, and was ifact the neighbor that helped us make the move to becoming her new owner.  She'd probably know. "Anyhow, do you think I could come by some time and visit them?"

"Of course! How does Tuesday sound?"

"Great! See you then!"

I hung up the phone and beamed with pride in our new goats mixed with a feeling that I could finally contribute to the community I've gained so much from.  Integrating into a community is tricky business for the inexperienced. When the natural community of childhood fades away with life changes like relocation and radical personal transformation, it becomes much more difficult to find a friend group, a neighborhood of connections, a "tribe," or any other name you call a community. Social institutions like school and faith groups are great facilitators, but where does that leave those of us without such ties? Homesteading can be an isolating lifestyle by default, so it takes intentionality to avoid that fate.

As we find ourselves with an abundance of eggs and goat milk, we want to share our good fortunes with others. It's simply a fine line between feeling like you are "paying  your way' into a community and finding a way to give back after you've benefited. Community may contain elements of bartering, however, it's hard to remember that transferring goods isn't the only transaction that counts. As individuals in Western Society, it can be challenging not to judge your sense of community worthiness and belonging by what you bring to the table instead of who you are. Well, it is for me at least.

As for Chloe, she is still small and cute and surprisingly calm for such a transition. The day we got her, I gathered a bribe of over-ripe blackberries in my palm, hoping she'd forgive us for uprooting her from her known world and transplanting her into this foreign patch of land overrun with brambles if I made an early offering of peace. She pressed her muzzle into my hand and snatched up the gushy fruit. Ah if you can feed a being, it will know it's loved. Red staining juice lingered where the berries had been, and Chloe cleaned it up with her velvet tongue. Yes, you're home now. Welcome to our family. Welcome to our community.

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!

Mower Mouth

In honor of our future farm members, I present to you, Shaun the Sheep's Mower Mouth. As you would expect from the maker's of Wallace and Grommit, it's worth nearly every second of the seven minutes this video takes. And it's sure to make you laugh. :)