Not Inconceivable

If you read last Saturday’s “Perplexed”, you know that I suspected that my goaties might not be expecting kids after all. Enter Lolli, a lame but handsome Nigerian Dwarf buck and living pregnancy-insurance policy.

Even though Nigerian bucks are much more docile than bucks of other breeds, we didn’t want one around because bucks stink. Trust me, Lolli is no exception! After his arrival on Sunday, the horses and cat kept sniffing the air with a curious-but-cautious look on their faces that said, What kind of beast reeks like that? When I first open the barn door in the morning, I pull my gator over my nose and try not to inhale until I can get the big door open too.

Despite the stench, Lolli is very sweet and intelligent. He picked up on the morning barn-to-pen march (and evening switch-up) like he’d done it his whole life. Although Hubby grew up with a recalcitrant billy which his dad used to keep traveling salesmen away, Hubby can’t help but like Lolli.

At first, Blueberry and Meels didn’t. They ran from Lolli whenever he approached. Yesterday, they still kept their distance but showed off by skittering past him with wiggling tails or head-butting each other. Today, Meels is avoiding Lolli like he has the plague, but Blueberry, while still wary, seems a bit flirtatious.

Goat colors are described in different terms than horse colors. I’m much more familiar with the latter, so I describe Blueberry as a blue roan-buckskin and Lolli as a strawberry roan-paint. So it’s not inconceivable that a mating between the two could result in some little cuties named Strawberry and Patch!

God said to them, "I've never quit loving you and never will. Expect love, love, and more love!”    –JEREMIAH 31:3

Steak and Potatoes

In 1842, a bull was born in Scotland. Named Old Jock, he was a one of the black, polled (hornless) cattle known in the area as Angus doddies. Old Jock became the first registered Black Angus, a breed known widely for its winter hardiness and delicious beef.

Countless Angus bull calves have been born since. Some are assigned registration numbers and names, ordained for the show ring or bull sale, followed by a career of pasture procreation. The vast majority of Angus bull calves, however, become steers and, ultimately, steaks and burgers.

In 2011, another little Angus calf was born to a heifer named Petunia. She was having trouble, so Hubby and I helped pull the calf. I was greatly relieved when the delivery was safely accomplished but disappointed when I saw that the darling calf was a bull.

I knew that the calf would live a happy life here on the ranch. Except for vaccinations and castration, he’d never be hurt. Unlike some cattle, he’d never be hollered at, prodded, hit, overly confined, go without shade or shelter, or go hungry. He'd not be given hormones, unnecessary medications, or corn. He’d be named, prayed for, and loved. But I knew that his destiny was also his purpose—feeding families—and as such, his life would be short.

This morning, Peder, a gentle soul like his mama, fulfilled that noble objective. But Hubby could barely choke down his breakfast, and I cried—am still crying, actually.

“Maybe we should grow potatoes instead of raise cattle,” I said to Hubby.

“He gives food to every living thing. His faithful love endures forever.”                           –PSALM 136:25

Perplexed

From what I’ve read, goats proliferate as effortlessly as rabbits. According to Raising Goats for Dummies and other tomes, Meels and Blueberry should have easily become pregnant on their driveway dates.

But around Christmastime, Blueberry launched into a rapid-fire series of 5 to 7 day cycles—21 days is her norm—some of which, I learned, could have been “false heats”. I also read that some goats do that near the end of the breeding season; this contradicts what I read, in several sources, about Nigerian Dwarf Dairy Goats cycling all year round.

I was sure that Meels was settled, but on Thursday, she showed some signs of flooziness inconsistent with pregnancy, the details of which I’ll spare readers. But she didn’t exhibit all the signs of heat, and the ones that did, didn’t last as long as usual. Perhaps she’s like the occasional Black Angus cow, who can be pregnant but still act like she’s in heat in the fall.

Vanessa, my goat mentor, is kindly loaning me one of her bucks for a month. He’s coming tomorrow. Hopefully, he will know the difference between real, false, and mock heats—because Blueberry, Meels, and I don’t!

I guess I need a book called Raising Goats for Really Dumb Dummies!

“Blessed shall be the…increase of your cattle and the young of your flock.”         –DEUTERONOMY 28:4

Tired Out

Weather forecasters keep promising temperatures that will surpass the freezing point, but so far we have had to be satisfied with highs into the 20’s. With nighttime lows below zero, though, 26° feels positively warm.

The best thing about the milder afternoons is that our stir-crazy cat goes outdoors for a little while. The other day, he found one of the few relatively warm, dry spots on the place, the tractor cab.

Hopefully today will be warmer, so Smokey will stay outside longer. We want him to get tired enough to sleep all night—so we can. At night, Smokey entertains himself by knocking things off the dressers, scratching furniture, banging cupboard doors, and attacking any arm that sticks out from under the covers. One night, it sounded like he was literally trying to climb a wall. 

I wonder if they make cat jackets. If Smokey had one with tiger stripes or leopard spots, he might stay outside long enough to play away his stir-crazies! 

“A cheerful disposition is good for your health; gloom and doom leave you bone-tired.” –PROVERBS 17:22

Snow Art

No matter how frigid the air or tough the footing, I would not think of trading my outdoor walks or runs for more comfortable ones on a treadmill. For one thing, I don’t just enjoy sunshine and fresh air, I crave it. Also, outdoor treks are fun because, just like yard sales and flea markets, I never know what I might find.

Wintry walks may be devoid of growing things, but the snow is like a blank canvas for the wild things to unwittingly draw a record of their comings and goings. Most sketches are made with hooves, paws, or toes, but it’s not uncommon to see a double-doodle drawn with wings, like this one:

This next piece is a puzzler to me though. Obviously, the artist had feathers, but how he or she managed to create this intriguing 24” by 10” abstract is a mystery. It’s so beautiful that I had to capture a photo before the masterpiece melted!

“He will cover you with His feathers,
    and under His wings you will find refuge;

    His faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.” –PSALM 91:4 

Hasten Spring

One kind word can warm three winter months. ~Japanese Proverb

Miss Liberty

Although we didn’t consult the Farmer’s Almanac regarding the best dates to wean the calves, our 2012 weaning was the easiest ever.

In order to minimize weaning stress, we practice fenceline weaning, which means that the only thing that separates the cows from the calves is one fence. Emotional distress is kept to a minimum if mamas can see and communicate with their calves and vice-versa. We’ve yet to have a calf go off feed or get sick.

For fenceline weaning to work, however, the fence must be an effective barrier to travel. Our 2011 weaning was very stressful for us because one of the calves, Yogi, kept escaping from the corral. By all appearances, Yogi was too fat to crawl out and too short to jump out, but out he repeatedly got! (We never caught him in the act.) Recapturing Yogi was an ordeal because his mama, Teddy Bear, was a mean, over-protective Angus menace to society. (Her belligerence earned herself a free ticket to the sale barn.)

Readers may remember, Penelope, our youngest calf, who is a free spirit for whom fences are merely a suggestion. We didn’t expect to keep her in the weaning pen without drastic fortifications such as electricity, barbed wire, concrete, and security guards.

Imagine our surprise when Penelope not only stayed put but took weaning in stride! While the other calves bawled, Penelope munched hay, and while they paced, she napped. Her composure must have had a comforting effect because the misery and noise levels seemed much reduced from previous seasons.

Nevertheless, Penelope still goes pretty much wherever she wants--like right into the middle of the feeder!

“…He has sent me to bind up and heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the [physical and spiritual] captives….” –ISAIAH 61:1