Well, a bit of a challenging thing, but also a good thing. Also known as ‘A post wherein Dagan’s rambling bounces between goats, god-poles, and upcoming festivals.’
The last two adult female goats have been confirmed ready to pop. They are first timers this spring, bred to my big Kiko buck last fall. I wasn’t sure they had taken, but here they both are with filled out bellies and starting-to-fill udders. (At least I’ve got some warning this time unlike the last one.) I was watching them munch on their hay yesterday evening- because there is something very soothing about the sound of hay being chomped on- and could see one of the kids kicking inside Uru’s abdomen. She looks like she can’t quite figure out what’s going on and she’s not sure if she really likes it but hey extra food. She’s also *fascinated* by the little ninja buckling.
Flash of course has the same ‘whatever, I’ll deal with it later’ attitude that she always has. No changes there yet.
There are some downsides to this situation. First, I don’t have enough room for them. Not even close. We planted the new pasture just before the rain last week but that grass won’t be stable enough for them to graze it for many months. It also isn’t fenced in yet although we did buy the ground auger we need to do the job without killing ourselves and we’ve got a line on a pile of old telephone poles- if our connection comes through. Puns. The second problem is that both of these does are still half wild. They were unhandled when I got them last fall and while they no longer run terrified from humans, they don’t exactly like to be touched either. It’s a struggle involving both bait and a quick grab to get them on ropes for anything. This seems to be a theme around here. I swear I did not intend to start a rescue and rehab herd.
They also HATE the Maternity Ward. There is a pen within the pasture that has just enough room for two very friendly goats and their shelter. It is designed specifically with half-wild and super independent Kiko mammas in mind. I’ve struck a compromise with them in that I let them out during the day and pen them inside it at night. This way if they give birth at night when human protectors are asleep they have an extra layer between them and predators. It also gives them some protection from angry, jealous other does when they eat their dinner. They get a different feed at this late stage in their pregnancy and the other does WANT DAT FOODZ.
I have one of this year’s freezer-fillers out on a rope, probably for the rest of his fore-shortened life. The bucks were beating him up and he beats up the does if he’s in their field. Rope it is.
I have a lead on a replacement for the Kiko From Tennessee Who Got Murdered By The Goat Who Is Now Sausage. Yes, it’s a title apparently. He’s a 2 year old registered Kiko (with NICE bloodlines- we’re talkin’ Goldmine and Iron Horse and TAY Onyx lines) for an extremely reasonable price in North Carolina. His name is Fred. I was planning on replacing Lightfoot next spring not this one, but one simply does not pass up an opportunity like this one. The breeder is going to hold him for me until we get the other fence up. Seriously. Not sure Who set this one up for me, but I appreciate it muchly.
Which, oddly enough, gives me the perfect transition to the next idea bouncing around in my brain. Somewhere on this farm I need to plant a large-ish carved pole for Thor. There are reasons. I’m leaning toward the Northwest corner which will be surrounded by the antagonistic and awful petty cunt of a relation’s piece of the former farm. It’s also the quarantine pen for the goats. I’m not sure if this is really appropriate to have this pole planted in a goat pen, but I’m quite sure it’s appropriate to have it on the besieged corner and in close proximity to goats who may require healing or protection. I really don’t have a better spot for it available. There’s actually a spot there already where a falling limb of approximately the ideal size fell from the larger tree and planted itself perfectly upright in the soft soil. That particular limb is too rotten to use, but the spot is perfect and the hole is already started. Coincidence?
Also on the list of ‘Probably Not A Coincidence’ is the way things have kicked off in my local community. I hear a lot of nastiness sloshing around in the blogosphere but the pagan and heathen and generally seeking community in St Mary’s County is starting to test its legs. We’ve got a site tentatively selected and I somehow found myself on the event team for a group celebration of Midsummer this year. I walked out of the Rescue Squad after ten years and not even six months later I’ve got a regular community meetup that I apparently am fully half responsible for? and am part of the planning team for our first community event- Midsummer, no less. Pagans and Heathens (upper and lower-case and various denominations of both), and a few friendly monotheistic mystic-types even are all getting along wonderfully, discussing some really great ideas, and above all pouring out of the woodwork! Between the different digital forums currently working to keep all information available there are at least 50 unique names and I know of several dozen who are not listed anywhere. We just started really keeping track about eight months ago. I’m not the only one. Say it with me… I’m not the only one.
“I want a life that lets me live my path. I want my hands in the dirt and the green and the fur and the blood. I want a community. I want to be paganus and somehow make a living being what I love.”
Be careful what you ask for. You’ll get it.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.