Blooming Tulip

 

I didn't think this story would get written. I don't like to write sad stories and I didn't think this was gonna end well....

 

Ten days ago Miss Ivy had her babies.  Twin girls that came just a bit earlier than expected.  Sadly, one baby did not make it.  I don't think she even took a breath.  But one tiny, precious thing was alive.  She was the oddest color for a goat.  In the sunshine she almost looked pink with a black stripe down her back.  Immediately I knew her name was "Tulip".

 

Tulip's first hour of life.

 I quickly noticed that Tulip wasn't in perfect health.  She had a very large, abnormal swelling in her throat. She was weak, cold and had no interest in momma's milk.  Not a good sign for a baby goat.  If they don't get momma's colostrum milk within the first few hours of life they usually die.  Colostrum is how most baby critters get their immunities. And she wouldn't eat....

I reached out to a network of Farmgirls for advice and information.  I also read on the internet about "goiters" in goats and how they are caused by the mom not getting enough iodine. It said the Boer breed is particularly susceptible to being iodine deficient and Tulip's daddy is a Boer goat.  The prognosis was not good.  But I am a "never say die" kinda girl.  While I know that losing animals is a part of ranching, I refuse to just accept that.  I'm stubborn and I hate it when any kind of critter in my care dies.

So I tucked tiny Tulip into my lap on my 4-wheeler and led her momma across the farm to a warmer place in my main barn.  Then I fashioned a make-do goat pen inside the feed room, moved the feed to a safe spot, bedded it deep with straw and hung a heat lamp from the rafters. I used two different ropes to secure the heat lamp because hate those things and the risk of fire associated with them.  But they are a necessary evil.  After getting the heat lamp to just the right height, I grabbed a 5 gallon bucket for a chair and sat with tiny Tulip on my lap, soaking up the heat.  After an hour or two, I milked some colostrum from Ivy and fed Tulip, one drop at a time from a syringe.  She still had no desire to suck and would not even try a bottle. The swollen thyroid gland made it difficult for her to swallow.  I wanted to cry....

Finally, late that night she had an almost normal body temperature so I tucked her into the straw, said a silent prayer and left her and Ivy to themselves.  I really didn't think she'd last the night, but to my surprise she was still hanging in there in the morning.  She ate a bit more from the syringe, protested the iodized salt I mixed into the colostrum, forgave me when I rubbed molasses on her gums.... the day went by and she was still here.

On day three she started to come to life!  She even gave a few half hearted sucks on a bottle!  More syringe feeding, lots of time under the heat lamp but she was ok.

Day four she finally nursed on her own!! Just a little bit, but she did it.  She started with just tiny sips and still needed the syringe but she was getting stronger and her swollen thyroid was shrinking!  I started to allow myself to have hope that she'd live.  I finally allowed my little boys to see her and pet her.  Up to that point I hadn't because I didn't want their hearts to break when she died.  She did start to develop a slight fever and raspy breath sounds so I began an antibiotic treatment right away.

Today, I am pleased to tell you that after 4 days of doubt, 5 days of antibiotics and Prairie Granny and I watching her like a hawk, Tulip is thriving!

Her swollen thyroid continues to shrink.  The pneumonia symptoms are completely gone and she is a happy little goat!

There is nothing cuter than a happy, baby goat!  I think they are even cuter than puppies!

I'm kinda glad I'm stubborn.... and I'm really glad Tulip is too. Stubborn enough to live against the odds. 


Bye for now,
PB

The Knitting Group

Yesterday I got a wild hair.  I decided to grab my knitting projects and head down to the senior citizens center and join in on the knitting group that meets every Tuesday.  I had some new yarns I was pretty excited about and looked forward to being able to knit and talk to some grown-ups for a couple of hours.

This is the scarf I finished at the knitting group.

I did happen to be the youngest woman in the room by and average of maybe forty years.  I think the ladies were a little surprised to see me plop down in a recliner to join their group.  A couple of the ladies knew who I was but the others I had never met before.  So I gave a short run down of who's place I had bought and that my knitting was strictly out of fleece from my own little fuzzy critters.  Then I just listened mostly....

One lady in particular had me fascinated.  Her name is Katie and she has lived all of her life right here in Chouteau County.  I believe she said she was 83 years young.  She grew up on a homestead up in the Highwood Mountains, on Shonkin Creek. 

Her dad was an immigrant from England and her mom had immigrated from Scotland.  She told me how her dad came here, homesteaded the place and was raising sheep up on the Shonkin.  Until the wolves, (yes wolves!) the coyotes and the harsh winters decimated the sheep.  Then he became a sheep shearer and would travel around each spring, shearing hundreds of sheep by hand, in a time before electric clippers. Anything to help make ends meet.

Geraldine in it's early years.

Katie's mother was one of 10 children back in Scotland.  When one of her siblings came here to Geraldine, she ended up following.  Her sister's children had both died within three days of each other, during the scarlet fever epidemic.  The sister was just six weeks from delivering a new baby when she lost her children and sent for Katie's mother to come help with the baby and also work in the general store they ran here in Geraldine.  She was here for a couple of years before Katie's dad came into the store one day.

A friend had told him, "There's a young lass down at the store you outta meet."  So he made the trip to town with the excuse if needing to buy a bar of soap, just so he could meet the "lass".  They met and then courted for about a year before getting married.  He was 47 and she was 28 when they married.  He moved her to the homestead where sometimes it was six months before she even saw another woman.  But Katie says they loved each other and were the happiest couple on Shonkin Creek for all of their marriage.

 I don't know about you, but their story just tugs at my heart.  What a legacy of love to have!  Now Katie's son runs his cows on the homestead place.  They are one of the families that have been here in Geraldine since the very beginning of this place. All because two people fell in love....

I warned the ladies at the knitting group that they might end up on my blog.  I have their blessing and it is my hope I retold Katie's story without errors.

Bye for now,
PB

Mr. Goat's Horrible Not Very Nice Day

 

We have had a "guest goat" for a few months now.  He is hanging out at our farm until Miss Ivy has her babies.  Or maybe just "baby".  We're not sure.... Anyhow, Mr. Goat is here to keep her company because goats really much prefer to be in the company of another goat.  I didn't want Miss Ivy to be lonely!  I'm not exactly sure of Mr. Goats real name, I think it might be Butternut....or Buttercup...or something like that.  But I just call him Mr. Goat.

 

 

 

Today, Mr. Goat had one heckuva bad day.  I don't know why.... and I don't know how.  But Mr. Goat managed to get himself into this little pickle....

 

 

 

 

As my big boy and I were walking around the farm doing the chores this afternoon, we found him in his pickle.  I usually don't do the chores until my son gets home from school.  He's my official gate opener and I need his help.  So Mr. Goat looked to have had himself stuck like that for quite a while.  A few hours at least, maybe longer.

 

The obvious thing we needed to do was remove the panel from the fence and give his poor little kisser some breathing room.  But of course we had walked down to do the chores and my hammer was all the way  up at the house.  (Note to self: Put hammer in big barn, near goat pen.)  So this cowgirl had to hoof it up to the house as quickly as possible.  I tell you what, I am not in shape for a quarter-mile run, uphill, in muck boots.  But I made it without passing out, grabbed a hammer and drove the pickup back down to the goat pen.

 

I yanked the fence staples out and freed the panel.  Then my big boy pushed his behind forward while I did a twist and yank procedure on his head to fit his horns back through the fence squares.  His little head is gonna be sore for a day or two!  And his lips were chaffed and swollen too....

 

 

 

 

 

But a minute or so after being released from the goat trap, he was happily in the feeder, chowing down.... that's always a good sign. 

 

 

I think I'll call Mr. Goats owners and let him know he would like to come home soon.... he doesn't like my fences.


Bye for now,
PB