Sunday mornings are important to me, a chance for me to learn, to put into practice what I have read in the week, to try out techniques and to get closer to the animals I want to, eventually, manage and breed. This Sunday was a sombre affair, however, as one of the milkers, Zia, had failed to birth the third of triplets. This resulted in septacaemia and, ultimately, she died. Her orphaned kids stand in the pen looking a bit lost, as if every time the gate opens it will be their mum. In the pen next door, Sybil, the one who always held milk back when I tried to milk her, also lost two kids. Perhaps an infection affected them both.
On a happier note, Elka had triplets (above) and all was well and one of the goatlings in the other shed had twins. So that's eleven new goats in the space of a week, with two more to kid. Then it will be the turn of the Dorpers and a few more Dorsets.
I was full of a cold so clipping the feet of the Dorpers took ages and I don't think I was her best buddy for taking so long. I'll have to buck my ideas up next week!
In a quiet few minutes at work, I had a bit of inspiration, and came up with this:
She leaves her golden bed
Of straw to stand
Obediant, expectant,
Over a silver pail.
Silence, save for munching,
A snicker, a belly rumble.
I lean my head
Into her side,
The rumen gurgles
Like the promise
Of a distant storm
But outside, all is silent.
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