Milk stealer

Who would steal milk from this adorable little goat? This innocent, hungry love muffin who bats her tail around, gets on her knees, and oh so cutely sucks from her mama's breast?
Lately, me.

On Monday I started a weaning program that will go on for almost two months. At night I lock the little ones into a dog crate near where Bebe and Bilbo sleep. In the morning, Bebe's udders are full and the little ones make these heart-breaking bleating noises. Before they get their milk, I put Bebe on this stanchion (jankity construction by moi) and milk her. The first day was a total bust, I felt like such an ass, and I couldn't get any milk to come out. I mean, Bebe is a dwarf goat, she has small little teats!

Tuesday my friend W came over and gave me some moral support. Although she hasn't milked a goat either, she encouraged me to keep trying. What's the worst thing that can happen W asked--Bebe will tell Bilbo I'm a total creep? So I kept on and finally got a few sprays of milk out of one of her teats. Yippee!! Today I got them both to work. Tomorrow I'm going to milk her dry. The idea is that when the babies go in for milk, her udders will refill and supply the demand.
I still feel bad for stealing from the little ones, but as you can see I only took a little bit. Here's the bounty.

After filtering it, I gave it a taste. It's very sweet and mild. Nourishing.

P.S. I wrote a profile in Monday's SFGate.com that earned me a lot of hate mail. If my inbox is any reflection, we hate the rich more than the poor here in America.

Horn searing

My friend A emailed me regarding my goats the other day:
"How do you deal with the fact of their unbelievable cuteness? I can barely stand to look at the photos. So soft! So sweet! AAARRGHH!
It's tough, but somehow I've been coping.
Yesterday was a horrible, sad day. But it was a necessary thing. I put a cage in the backseat of our truck, lined it with straw, then stole Bebe's babies away for a few hours. I drove to Cotati--about an hour north of Oakland--while the babies slept in back. At the animal hospital, Dr. Dotti, a large animal vet was scrubbing up after delivering a calf. It was all very James Herriott. The calf lived, there was blood everywhere and a happy mama cow chewed her cud as if this was all just another day. A woman chatted with me about her horse's dental work, and when I told her why I was there--to get the goats horns disbudded--she said, oh that's no big deal! Then why was I sweating, and feeling awful?
I tucked a goat under each arm and Dr. Dotti's assistant showed me where to take them and shaved their heads. The horn buds were very small, just starting to mound up. He said two weeks is the perfect timing for disbudding. Dr. Dotti warmed up the disbudding iron (looked like an evil curling iron), and we chatted about how amazing it is that the Nigerian Dwarf goats are considered a dairy breed now, about Bebe, the birth, and the necessity of disbudding. It's really best for the goats--and my neighbors--because the horns will get caught up in fences, gouge my other animals, and worst of all--might gouge out the eye of one of the many neighborhood kids who come by to play with the goats. So, it was with grim determination that I took Orla and Georgina in.

Poor little boobers, they screamed like kittens when he touched their little horn buds with the iron. Dr. Dotti did a great job, moving back and forth, letting them get a break. In all it took about 5 minutes for each of them. My heart was beating as fast as theirs once it was all over. When he was done he sprayed the seared part with antibacterial ointment. Within minutes, they were frisking around in the back of the truck like nothing happened. Luckily, they don't have mirrors. And when I returned them to a grateful Bebe, she acted like she didn't notice. Typical mom.

Birth story

I woke up at dawn to the turkey gobbling. This is fairly normal. He gobbles like a rooster crows—in the morning and throughout the day. It’s driving us crazy. But he was gobbling over and over again, a danger gobble! So I ran downstairs and Bebe came running up to me, bleating and looking at me with distress. Tail up. That’s always a sign of pending birth. But I thought it wouldn’t be for another two weeks! Luckily, I’m obsessive, so I had all the supplies—the iodine, the petroleum jelly, gloves, towels, bottles, colostrum, beet pulp and oats—ready to go.

I gave Bebe her favorite snacks of jade plant, Heart to Heart flakes, and apple, then went back to bed. I had a dream that she had four tiny babies and one of them was a cow.
A few hours later not much had happened—I went to a meeting--but Bebe was still bleating every five minutes or so. I didn’t see her dialated or anything. So I went out to do some errands. Got a new tire for the truck, bought some plants and seeds. When I arrived home I went directly to the backyard, and saw a streak of gold and white.

Two adorable babies! Still wet, and covered with goo. Bebe had the afterbirth hanging out her backside. She was patiently licking her kids clean, and making wonderful deep bleating noises, which they would answer with high-pitched calls.
After a bit of staring and feeling tremendously good, I crawled into the pen and helped Bebe out a bit—washing off their faces, and dipped their umbilical cords with 7% iodine solution (to prevent infection). When I picked them up, they cried like babies!

Bebe gave me some licks, then she ate the placentas. How funny it is to observe an herbivore eating something so bloody. It seemed like a chore. I gave her some beet pulp and oats warmed up with water, and she drank a ton of water. She’s had several other kids, so this just seemed like another day in Bebe’s life.
The goatlings are adorable, playing with each other, sleeping, and when you lie on the ground near them they come running toward you. So cute!
For those of you wondering, Bilbo seems bored by it, and a little left out, like Eoyore.

Announcing

The birth of two beautiful baby girl (pretty sure) goats, today around 4pm. They don't have names yet, but since they were born on St. Patty's day, I think they need Irish names. Please send suggestions. More info about the birth--and photos--to come.

Flu frustrations

I got it. The dreaded flu: fever, cough, muscle aches. Here it is spring and I have hay to move, mulch to spread, crops to plant, hooves to trim, stalls to muck out, a milking stanchion to build (goat kids are due March 30!) and all I can manage is to watch my farm from out my window. So frustrating.
I also missed the bee symposium and the California rare fruit growers meeting this past weekend. Lucky for me, my rare fruit growing angel sent me a link to a video of the meeting!! Thank you Spidra!

The other thing I’ve been able to do is order goat supplies. I found a great website, Hoegger's, where I ordered, from the comfort of my sickbed, all manner of goat-related items. Goats are prone to various kinds of worms, so I bought a natural de-wormer, made with Worm Wood, Gentian, Fennel, Psyllium, & Quassia. They also had buckets of goat minerals—calcium, phosphorus, salt and magnesium, selenium, and vitamin E. I picked up a kid bottle and some colostrum in case Bebe has a million babies. Finally, I got a bag of kelp in bulk—I’ve noticed the goats love wakame, but at $5 a bag, it was breaking me, so this should do the trick. In other goat care madness, I made them their first batch of sauerkraut. My goater friend Jim tells me goats love the stuff—it’s full of B vitamins—we’ll see how Bilbo and Bebe feel about it, they don’t seem like terribly adventurous eaters.

P.S. Here’s an article I wrote for SFGate about a foodie who doesn’t have much money, yet manages to eat well by growing her own, dumpster diving, and buying wisely.

Goat story

When I was little, I told my mom I was going to be a cowgirl on a dog ranch. I liked dogs, but I loved cowboy boots….My first existential crisis arrived when I was told I couldn’t have a pony in downtown Shelton, WA. I remember standing at my bedroom window, cursing my pony-lessness, looking out into the maze of walnut tree branches, and I knew it for the first time: I was alone in this world…The smell of alfalfa, is intoxicating to me, if I could make a perfume, it would contain that citrus grass smell that I love so much….This year I decided I’m going to move slowly, take my time, chew on the end of a piece of grass, ask everyone how they are doing before I launch into what I need from them…Somehow this all relates to the goats.


They’ve changed my life. Suddenly, I have occasion to buy alfalfa. I went to Alamo Feed and Grain and got two bales of a mix of alfalfa and grass. The clerk, a man with an amazing waxed moustache (he was about 25 years old) and I chatted a spell before I bought my items. My car reeks of the stuff now.

Once home, I unloaded the bales and realized I need a pair of hay hooks. That’s just my reality. The goats love the grass and alfalfa, they chewed thoughtfully while I crammed the bales into the “hay loft.” Then I sat in the sawdust with Bilbo and Bebe and read the newspaper (Bilbo tried to eat it), and drank some coffee. The turkeys strutted over to investigate. A chicken came, laid an egg, then headed out again. A bunny on the loose came out of nowhere, installed himself in a sunny corner, and fell asleep, ears flat against his body. Alfalfa from the hay rack fell onto my hair made me sneeze a little, drifted into my cowboy boots that didn’t seem quite so ridiculous in downtown Oakland anymore. Everything was so calm and peaceful. Bebe made a little bah-bah noise to me. I don’t speak goat, but I assumed it was a request for some sunflower seeds, which I dug up from the shed. Bilbo came over for a scratching, like a dog. Bunny, chicken, turkey, goat, human. Was this the dog ranch I had pined for so long ago?

Goats in the house

The goats are here! The goats are here!
I spent all day yesterday in Lake and Mendocino county picking up and learning about Bebe (left) and Bilbo (right). They are Nigerian Dwarf goats and stand 23 inches from the shoulder. Both of them fit in the back of the station wagon with no problem. I went to Ukiah and got all their diet needs (and a cowgirl shirt for moi) at a groovy farm store. Bebe is pregnant, and will be kidding in a month. Bilbo is her wether buddy, so Bebe will transition better into our new place. She's very shy, but so cute with her pale blond face. The chickens seem to be looking at the goats and thinking, now that's a big chicken.

Bebe's goat palace

My friend Margaret has been coming over to show me how to build things. She's an apprentice carpenter and knows how to use a leveler and a circular saw.
Which is mighty useful when I need to build me a tidy, draft-free, rain-proof goat palace. We've spent the last few days putting the thing together, and it's finally starting to look like a proper place for an expectant mommy goat. There are three walls, a beamed roof, and, well, that's about it. I had no idea how time consuming it is to build something properly. Tomorrow I'm getting the plywood and more beams from Re-Use, this groovy recycled building supply place in East Oakland. I'll take photos when we're done but know that this is function over form--it ain't going to be pretty, but sure will be cozy.

Goat collective

Although I would love to have goats in our backyard, I think to be fair to the goats, they need more space. Somehow I met a lovely woman who has a large backyard in Oakland who will host the goats. We're gathering a team of 10 people who will share the duties of milking and feeding the goats. Each time you milk you get over one gallon of goat milk. Many people in the group are what I call goat cheese motivated. We're planning on buying the goats in the springtime. Before then, we need to build outbuildings, fences, hay racks, stantions. If you're interested, email me at novellacarpenter at yahoo dot com, our first meeting is October 9.