Teaching Dancer to be a Goat

It was a hard week on the farm. The two premature kids needed to be fed every other hour, and that sounds as if it would only take a few minutes, but it’s more complicated than you’d think, because you’ve got to get the milk out of the mama, bottle it up, and then coax the babies into swallowing it. The babies seemed to get better until about Sunday, and then they seemed to get worse. They became listless, refusing to drink. We tried everything. Vitamin B injections, rubbing their butts like their moms do, the vet tech next door came over. At one point there was a poop explosion, and they perked up for about a day, but it became more and more clear that Domino was not going to make it. On top of whatever digestive system malformation was at work in his little body, his front legs were not straight, so he was not able to stand on them. He hobbled around on his front knees, kind of reminding me of Tiny Tim in A Christmas Carol. He passed away on Wednesday. After Domino died, his brother (who I have been calling Dancer, even though I’m afraid that name may give him identity issues when he grows up - perhaps he’ll think he’s a reindeer) was lonely. So, Thursday we took him on a field trip to the little dogs’ yard. Then we organized a play-date for him with Rain’s babies. Rain’s babies are the youngest of our other babies. And last night, Dancer had a slumber party with them.

Here's Dancer in the yard, with Clark, our good herd-guarding dog in the background. They spent a lot of time snuffling each other through the fence:

Not only is it important for Dancer not to be alone - goats are herd animals, after all, so they don’t do well alone - but it’s also important for him to learn to be a goat, not a pet. A kinder buck often weighs in the neighborhood of 150 pounds. And headbutts. This is not someone you want in your living room. So, we continue to work to help Dancer understand that, although we are feeding him every other hour, he is not our baby.

Meanwhile, spring is everywhere here. We have spectacular lilac bushes, amazing apple trees, daffodils pushing up near the fences. It’s wonderful. The neighbors did their spring irrigation, and the standing water drew a flock of spectacular birds. People here say they’re snowy egrets, but commonly called cow birds. Because of their tendency to perch on cows. Actually, according to Cornell University, they’re cattle egrets - just a slightly smaller species than snowy egrets.

Years ago I toured Central America as piano accompanist to a college musical theatre ensemble. We performed in Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras, and Costa Rica. It seemed as if every place we drove had these spectacular white birds perched on cows. As soon as I was hired for this job I began teaching myself Spanish from a Berlitz book, kind of in a DIY crash course. That actually worked pretty well for functioning in the everyday world, but not so much for discussing birds. I tried to ask about those cow-perching birds, but failed.

But, after seeing these cow birds here, I’m pretty sure they’re the same as the birds I saw there. Cornell University says that the cattle egrets live in Central America year ‘round. They’re only in New Mexico when they’re breeding, which explains why I hadn’t seen them before. My soap making is also moving forward. Here is my first attempt at making soap. (It’s the soap just out of the mold - before it’s cut. It mellows to a slightly browner hue as it cures.)

As I’m finishing up this blog for the week, I’m listening to the slumber party attendees on my porch wake up. I can hear little Dancer, with his tiny, reedy voice. Also, Puddle (formerly River), Ocean, and Roger. Those three are now calling to their mother, and I can hear her, out in her pen, answering her babies. In a few minutes, we’ll milk all the does and then reunite them with their babies for the day. Hopefully, a day when little Dancer grows stronger and goatier!