Goat Tattoos

This week we tattooed the first two goats of the summer. Tattooing is required by the USDA. They use it for identification purposes, especially in case they need to track down the spread of a communicable disease.

We tattooed Lace and Luke - they had a potential buyer, and we can’t sell our goats without their tattoos. Here’s Lace, on the back porch (which was functioning as a tattoo parlor when this photo was taken) looking curious. (Kat is getting ready to hold Lace on her lap; Snoopy is watching through the door).

We tattooed three letters in one ear, and a letter and two numerals in the other ear. One ear has our herd designation (the three letters). The other ear has the year, and the goat’s particular birth order for that year. Luke was our third baby of the year, and 2021 is represented by the letter N. So, his personal ear was N03. Here are the letters:

Tattooing animals for purposes of identification goes back at least to 2,000 B.C.E. The Egyptians tattooed their cattle to thwart cattle rustlers. The practice became widespread in the United States in the 1500s when the Spanish brought the first cattle to North America.

I had thought that tattooing the goats’ ears would be like in a modern tattoo parlor - you know, with an electric needle. But it’s much more primitive. (Our neighbor, a vet tech and former 4H member, tells us that rabbit tattoos are done with a modern electric needle).

Here’s the tattooing device: (you can see how you just insert the three letters/numerals - and then a blank to hold them in place).

We smeared the goats’ ears with tattoo ink, and then squeezed the device shut, and it automatically pops itself right back open. It's really quick - over before the goat has a chance to worry.

Of course, I was covered in tattoo ink by the end - I had the job of holding the goats’ heads still so that they didn’t jerk at exactly the wrong time and tear their ear.

Goats are required to be tattooed; cattle are tattooed or can have permanent ear tags. Back in the days when armies moved by literal horse power, the military painted identification numbers on their hooves. There’s an article published in 1910 stating that those numbers usually lasted for about four months. Now they're tattooed inside their upper lip. Ew.

Many Kinder Goat breeders are pushing for the USDA to accept the type of micro-chips that many people now put in their dogs and cats. It’s really a good idea. They’re way easier to put in, and easier to read. I hope that happens, frankly.

In other news, Bridget and her baby are doing great. They now take long walks among the other chickens - the baby seems to be attached to Bridget with an invisible tether. Here she is relaxing on Bridget’s back inside their feral cat shelter.

We’re hoping that one day soon they’ll join the rest of the hens in the coop.

The barn swallows have hatched three babies up in their corner nest above the door to the milking parlor. We love watching them feed the babies every day.

Another huge event this week was our reorganization of the back pen. There are a bunch of goats in that enormous pen. It has a fence running down the center of it, with a gate that can be closed to make it into two pens.

This week Jan saw Petra butting Madam. (This is Madam):

Madam is nearly 14 years old - extremely elderly for a Kinder Goat. She’s “out to pasture” after many years of being milked. Her daughter, Button is in the back pen with her. Button’s daughter Elena, and Elena’s three kids (born this year) Nick, Chuck, and Bowser also live there.

Jan was unhappy about Petra butting Madam, so she suggested we turn the back pen into two pens, leaving Madam and her descendants on the small side, and the other goats on the larger side.

This took some doing - Kat and I had to dig out the gate, which was so mired in a year’s worth of hay, dirt, and goat poop that it was immobile. It took the better part of one morning, but we finally got it done, and got everyone to their appropriate side. Tranquility reigned.

The next morning, when I went to feed the goats, Sugar and Ray were on Madam’s side of the pen. How could that have happened? I assumed that Sugar and Ray had run out to the free area outside the pen to eat leaves while I was feeding everyone, and I had let them back in the wrong side without thinking. I took them back to their side.

That afternoon, there were three goats on Madam’s side who didn’t belong there. Now I knew I hadn’t let anyone into the wrong side. I put them back and then walked the dividing fence, looking for a break in the fence. I couldn’t see anything. It was as if the goats were getting across the fence by magic.

The next morning, when I went to feed the goats, there were four goats on Madam’s side, and I pushed them out the gate, Sugar first, and by the time I was pushing the last one out the gate, Sugar had run up behind me. As if she was playing a game. I stepped to the other side just in time to see Ray slithering underneath the fence.

There was a place where the goats had rubbed up against the fence so much that it was bowed out nearly two feet. At the bottom of that spot the chain link fencing had come undone. Now we knew how the goats were changing pens.

The next morning Kat and I went out with baling twine and tied the fence back to the fence post and tied a long heavy pole to the bottom of the fence. We got all the goats back to their proper side, and watched as Sugar, Ray, and their friends stood around the repaired fence, staring. (I like the shadow of the goat in this photo - already contemplating the patch).

So far, our patch is lasting.

Finally, we had our first soap sales event at the Albuquerque Rail Yards Market. It was a total blast! Partly because it’s been so long since I’ve been at an event with loads of people - talking with strangers, etc. Partly because everyone brings their dogs to the Rail Yards. Partly because it’s just fun to sell soap. Here's our booth:

We signed up for a bunch more Sundays. I’ll keep you posted. Meanwhile, you can always shop our newest bars at SerenaSoaps.com.