It's Always Something

As is a central theme during kidding season, we find we always have more to learn. I am so over believing I have things under control when it comes to our farm, business, hell, life in general. This week was yet another lesson in all that can go wrong with baby goats. We are lucky that we have a good support system with friends who have animal experience and are willing to advise us at any time, day or night.  

Of course, with the cold evening, one of our baby girls decided to wander away from her mama and try to die by the big door that leads outside. Eric went out to do the bedtime check and found the beautiful little love bug sprawled flat on the ground in front of the barn door, looking as if she had expired. Thinking he was too late and she was already gone, he picked her up by her hind legs and was startled into a jump scare worthy of a Scream movie when she let out a long, loud bawl. He rushed her into the house, looked panicked, handed her off to me, and went back out to ensure everyone else was warm and safe. 

I did a mouth check. It is a simple way to tell how far into hypothermia a little one is if their gums and the inside of their mouth feel cold. Her little mouth was like an ice cube. I wrapped her in a blanket, on a heating pad, and snuggled her. She warmed rather quickly and soon was alert and hungry. I took her temperature before I fed her because if they are not up to a normal body temperature, feeding them while they are cold will kill them. She was within normal range, and she ate an entire sixteen-ounce bottle before snuggling with The Bean and going to sleep. 

The Bean volunteered to take baby duty, and my girl snuggled this little love bug so much that she created a snuggle monster. This baby goat will not allow Jordan out of her sight, let alone sleep in a box on the floor. The Bean fed her every four hours and made sure all was well with our little goat friend. The Bean noticed that the baby had no bowel movements overnight. Not shooting poo out like a tube of toothpaste that is being stepped on is highly unusual for baby goats, but because she had had a bowel movement earlier in the evening, we weren't alarmed. The Bibbed Wonder took the baby, now named Mable Mae, out to the barn to nurse on her mama, Dot. Mabel got her tummy full and then came back into the warmth of the house for the day. It takes a baby goat a few days to regulate its temperature, and Miss Mabel was not quite there yet. We decided to keep her in the house until this cold front passed just to be safe. Although we never want to lose a little one to the cold, we are especially protective of Mabel because she is a little girl and she has beautiful moon spots. She is a beauty.

Again, we noticed that Mabel had not had a bowel movement throughout the day, but we assumed the shock of the cold, the upheaval of leaving her mom, and being bottle-fed may have upset her little system. At this point, we were aware but not alarmed. However, when she failed to poo overnight and showed a loss of appetite, we became concerned. I messaged my friend Jenna first thing in the morning. Jenna went to Penn State for animal science and has years of experience with a variety of animals. I trust Jenna's advice implicitly. 

Jenna advised me to give Mabel two cc's of mineral oil, wait a bit, and if nothing happened, give her an enema of warm, soapy water and mineral oil. I tried to feed Mabel a bottle of warm milk with mineral oil in it. She drank a few ounces, but I wasn't convinced she ingested enough to make a difference. So, I gave Mabel a direct drench of mineral oil. I waited about forty minutes, nothing happened, and she was grinding her teeth, which is an indication of discomfort and pain. 

So, dear reader, I traveled into uncharted territory. I gave a baby goat an enema. I made a warm, soapy-water solution with mineral oil, put it in a medium-sized syringe with a tip but no needle, and had Jordan hold Mable on her side. I shot 10 cc's of warm soapy water into her "chocolate whiz bang," as The Bibbed Wonder calls it. Our baby girl must be very bound up inside because there was pushback on the syringe when I tried to flush her. I flushed the water into her as gently as possible and expected a torrent of poo and water to come out. Instead, there was nothing. So, I left Mabel with The Bean and went to the garage to consult The Bibbed Wonder about how an enema works. The Bibbed Wonder informed me that the water and poo do not shoot out immediately. Instead, it hangs out for a while, swishes around, loosens things up, and then a bowel movement ensues. Okay, enemas 101 complete. 

The Bean and I walked baby Mabel around the yard because that is what the internet suggested. She pooed a little here and there, but after an hour or so, nothing major had occurred. We walked for forty minutes longer, and still nothing to write home about came out of that baby's bottom. So, I made another solution, slapped on the rubber gloves, massaged her butthole with mineral oil (things I never thought I would write for $500, Alex.), lubed up the syringe tip, and shot another 10 cc's of warm, soapy water and mineral oil in my girl's Hershey Kiss maker...aka, her bum. 

We walked, and walked, and walked some more, and nothing really happened, but her tummy made some serious I-have-to poop noises. With that cannon loaded to full capacity, there was no way she was coming back inside the house. Luckily, it was warm today and will be warm tonight. Miss Mabel Mae is back in the barn with her mom, safely in a stall. She has limited opportunities to try to die through the night. She has a heating mat to lie on if need be, and she can get her tummy filled whenever she wants. 

Upon taking her back to the barn, Dot was thrilled to see her. However, Miss Mabel has decided she likes her "other mother" for all you Coraline fans, if you know, you know. I am now referring to The Bean as The Other Mother, which makes her giggle and annoys her at the same time. Often, we worry that mother goats will reject their babies if they are away for too long. In this case, we are worried that Miss Mabel is rejecting poor Dot. When she sees The Other Mother come into the barn, she makes a beeline for her and bawls her baby goat bawl, which sounds very much like Ma, Ma, Ma! It's cute, but my girl has created a monster. 

She tried to push baby duty off on me because "She needs a break from this needy creature." Ha, that has been my story for the last seventeen years. There is no break, and independence declines with age. When they are little, they want to do everything for themselves. As teenagers, they view you as their personal consierge, driver, butler, maid, chef, and laundress. You get a break when you die. I jest, mostly. I took baby Mabel, placed her in her warm little box for a nap, and she immediately began a loud, obnoxious protest. Oh, no, there will be no box sleeping for Mabel. You will hold her, wrapped in a fleece blanket, with her head on your shoulder, and if you move, she will protest...loudly. 

I informed The Other Mother that I would not be taking on baby duty because she created this needy little snuggle monster, and I have things to do. We bantered back and forth until she finally relented and took her mammy-calf squal- bag, I mean, little love bug, back to the barn to be with her birth mother. Mabel and Dot have reunited, bonded, and are doing well. However, The Other Mother makes regular visits to the barn to snuggle her little snuggle monster.  

Mabel's tummy is flat and soft. Her little bottom shows some evidence of having had a bowel movement, and she has a hearty appetite. Fingers crossed, there are no more butthole massages in my future. Ugh, the things we do for the creatures we love.

On this warm and lovely spring day, stay safe, be smart, there is always something to learn, never think you have it all figured out, or the universe will school you in ways you never imagined, for the love of all that's holy, wear gloves if you have to massage a butthole, and for heaven's sake, wash your hands.