Thursday, February 2, 2012
If only Lizzie's birth had been a stand-alone event -- meaning there was nothing else happening at the time -- it would have been perfectly glorious. But life on a homestead isn't like that. Of course, sometimes things happen at the perfect time when we have nothing else happening and when our heads are clear and we can think logically. But not the day Lizzie decided to kid.
If you read the post about Viola's death a couple of weeks ago, you know that right in the midst of that confusing mess, Lizzie went into labor. It's probably a good thing that I didn't write up the experience too soon, or I would have sounded like a -- hmm, I don't know -- let's just say I would not have inspired confidence in anyone that any goat could actually give birth without complications. I sit here typing today and know that is absolutely not true. But when you are in the midst of trying to save a dieing goat, and you saw a horribly deformed kid born only two days earlier, your brain can become horribly pessimistic. (You're probably thinking paranoid.)
The other thing that sticks out in my head is that while I was drying off the second one, Lizzie was standing there licking it, and suddenly -- plop! -- there was a kid in the straw behind her. I have no idea whether it was born nose first, tail first, or something in between. I'm not even sure that Lizzie knew she had pushed out another one, which is why a human needs to be there for these goats that have multiple kids. After the first two, they usually come shooting out with what appears to be virtually no effort on the part of the doe. Lizzie was busy licking one of the first two kids, so who knows when she would have noticed number three. Indeed, in our early days with goats, before we were halfway competent about figuring out when a doe was going to kid, we wound up with too many hypothermic kids that were part of triplets or quads. It was not fun.