Goat babies! The birth story told from a few different perspectives.

"Howdy. My name is Dandelion. Please don't ask why my humans named a black goat after a yellow flower. It's not important. What IS supremely important is that I am in labor. I will have babies soon.

If you accuse me of sporting a deer-in-the-headlight-look, I ask you this: how would you look like if labor pains gripped you? And what about the size of my poor, swollen udder? Do you think THAT is painless? I assure you: it's tender as hell. 

Excuse me for showing my lady parts here, but you lose all sense of modesty once labor hits.

I'm closing my eyes not because I'm sleeping. No, no! It's because this frigging hurts, and I'm concentrating.

The woman below is called Corina, and she is my human. I like her because she feeds me every day, and she talks softly to me (except when I chew on her clothes). She even sings to me when she milks me. Yeah, she's alright.

Especially right now. I really like having her around to comfort me when it feels like my insides are being ripped open."

"Hi guys, Corina here! Dandelion finally decided it was time to give birth! Yippie! All the waiting is over, and my sweet goat is getting down to business.

I checked on her all day long, but never really saw any contractions. I knew she was close-ish to giving birth because her udder was HUGE, and she was concentrating. Around lunch time, I checked on her, and I saw her pushing. PUSHING! All my other goats have had plenty of discharge before they start pushing babies out, so it did catch me by surprise a little.

But then Dandelion stopped pushing and ate some hay.

I brought my lunch into the barn. After finishing my soup, Dandy pushed again. See how considerate she is, letting me finish eating? She pushed in earnest, and two feet appeared - a good thing, because it means the baby was in the correct position. I helped by gently pulling on the baby's legs with her contractions, as my six-year-old daughter Eva looked on. This part is hardest for the goat. The head and the shoulder have to come out, and they are big, and the goat screams. 

Loudly."

Eva: "I am NEVER EVER having babies!!!"

Dandelion: "Me neither!!!!!!!!!!!"

"Very soon, the slippery, wet bundle of goat baby is born. It's a girl! I present her to Mama goat to lick, and I clean the baby's nose and mouth of mucous with a paper towel."

Dandelion: "Wowser! I'm glad that's over. Awwww, look at my beautiful baby. It has my eyes! It has her Dad's nose. And the ears? What the heck? I know ya'll always make fun of my ears, because I am a Lamancha goat, and everyone always says we don't have ears. We DO have ears, thank you very much, but they are just small.

But look at my baby's ears! They are a mix between mine and their Dad's super long Boer goat ears.

Ohhh, I'm in love. Let me lick this precious baby."

Corina: "I need more paper towels."

Eva: "There's slime everywhere. I better help clean up this baby. Mom says it needs to be dry. It's so cute! I want to keep it. Mom, we won't eat it, will we?"

Corina: "I need more paper towels!"

Dandelion: "This little human child sure is excitable. Do I need to head butt her?"

While Dandelion is busy licking her baby, Eva and I help her dry it off with paper towels. Five minutes after being born, the baby stands on wobbly legs.

Baby #1: "Is there any milk around here somewhere? Weeeehhhh, I was standing, but my legs aren't working that good yet. Maybe a wee sip of milk would help with that? Let's stand up again. Weeeehhhh!"

As I help the baby find the teat, she suckles, her tail furiously swishing back and forth.

This stimulates more contractions.

Dandelion: "Ohhh no, not again. I feel like pushing! Gaaaaaaaaahhhh!!!!"

Oh, look! Another little girl! She looks like an Oreo cookie!

The babies are born, dried off, and now we are helping them nurse properly. Colostrum is very important for the newborns, since it contains lots of good antibodies and nutrients.  

Baby #1: "That milk is making me sleeeeeeepy."

My (human) children and I agree: It's time to cuddle with the babies. 

Eva (6 yrs): "Listen, people. I was the one drying off the slimy stuff. I was there from the beginning. These babies are mine. Hands off. They belong to ME."

Lukas (11 yrs): "I think we'll name them Caramel and Oreo."

Kai (13): "Yeah, they are cute and all, but don't show this picture of me to my friends on Facebook. It's a little un-cool. Although... there's a girl I like, and she really loves goats. Well... Maybe we can leak this to Facebook, after all!"

Corina (me): "I need more paper towels!"

"Anyway, there you have it. I say me and Papa Boer goat did a good job, wouldn't you? My babies are feisty little girls. I sure feel protective of 'em. In fact, I did head butt that little human kid today. She was crawling around on the barn floor with my babies, making squealing noises, so I thought I'd teach her a lesson. Gave her a bloody lip and made her cry. But she has to learn, that one. Be gentle with my babies, is all I can say.

Ain't they pretty?"

Bye for now! Stop by and visit my beautiful kids. But don't be too rough, otherwise I'll head butt you.

Goat triplets! Why it is a good idea to have seven midwifes attend a goat birth...

The other day, we visited our friend Loren, who bought my goat Quasar last year.  We stopped by because we wanted to fawn over the babies that were born to a different goat a few days earlier.  Our friend Auburn was there with her two daughters.  As we bottle fed and played with the babies, Quasar shifted into active labor, so we got to be midwifes.  There were seven of us crowded into the little birthing pen - four adults and three daughters ranging from five to eleven years.  Even will all these people, the energy felt beautiful, calm and sacred.  Quasar wanted to rest on someone's lap the whole time, so we took turns comforting her.  Once her water burst, the three babies came fast and furious, and it was a good thing all of us were there to help towel the babies off, clear their breathing passages, dip umbilical cords, milk the mama to fill bottles, and feed the babies.
I don't have any close-up pictures of the newborns because I was too busy helping.  Besides, my hands were covered in slimy amniotic fluid, and I didn't want to touch my camera.  Ahem.

Here are some of the babies a couple of days later, thriving and well, with a very attentive mother.  Oh, how I love this goat!

Other news on the homestead: We are trying to capture bees.  Yep, that's right: we are thinking of adding more animals to the farm.  Here are some beehives a friend brought over, filled with honeycomb and baited with lemongrass essential oil, hopefully attracting and wooing a swarm of bees in search of a new home.  All it takes is one scouting bee who deems our place a worthwhile domicile.  Maybe it will work. Maybe not.

The pigs?  They're happy.  They are doing what pigs are supposed to do: eat, root up (and hopefully eat some) pasture, and wiggle their curly tails in ecstasy when they see us coming with a slop bucket.  They have quickly learned that humans are their friends.

We are currently incubating seven duck eggs in our friend's incubator.  We'll see what happens with that...

With all the work that has to get done in spring, we try to find balance by goofing off by the river, or to lounge on the sofa to read.
What are you doing to keep balance in spring?

Finally!

Finally! My goat Quasar gave birth to two baby girls.  Since I didn't know the exact due date, I checked  on her obsessively compulsively all last week.  The same happened when I was pregnant with my own first child.  I was convinced he would arrive at least two weeks early.  Alas, he was three weeks late.  So in essence, I woke up every morning for five weeks, brightly exclaiming, "Today is the day!" A watched pot never boils.
But it did happen today!  Quasar did it very sneakily.  I think I had freaked her out all week, checking on her all the time, standing there and staring at her rear end for hours.  I bet she thought I had gone soft in the head.  She didn't give me too many signs of impending labor, although I did notice her full udder and softened ligaments.  When I checked on her at 4 am, she didn't tell me she would have babies five hours later.
All of my three children were present when she pushed out her babies.  What a delight to grow up watching animals being born, being splattered in amniotic fluid, and fetching things for your mother trying to clean up baby animals.
If these pictures are too graphic for you, just scroll down.  There will be pictures of blooming things and stuff.

Two feet come first, then the head, often with the tongue sticking out.

First born, Mama licking off all the goo.

Look at all my helpers welcoming the new life!

Here is the second one coming.  Another hoof showing.  And lots of goo.  It's messy business!

Nothing signifies spring more than goat babies.  And a sore back.  And sore arms.  And a sore neck.  I am gardening like our lives depend on it.  They kind of do, come to think of it, since I grow a lot of our food.
This week, I planted potatoes and transplanted all the onions I started from seed two months ago.  There is a lot of double digging of soil going on, and crouching down in one position for hours.  I'm also weeding the flower garden to make sure things don't get too much out of control for August, when our good friends will get married at our place.  It's a good thing my boys are homeschooled.  They know how to work and help their Mom when she is too wimpy to dig another shovel full of heavy soil.

Spring is very busy here on the homestead.  Goat babies, weeding, transplanting, digging, cheese making, homeschooling, harvesting nettles for pesto, keeping the cat out of the catnip, house cleaning.  Is it any wonder that I feel crazy in April?   But, oh!  It's so gorgeous here, and after months and months of grey weather and non-stop rain, we revel in baring our naked arms and faces to the sun.  We are filling up on Vitamin D whilst adoring cherry blossoms, hummingbirds, and emerging flowers.  I even manage to knit every now and then.