She had no trouble. I fed her Sunday morning, and she ate voraciously. In fact I heard nothing from her--no disturbance at all--all day. Eowyn can raise quite a ruckus when she chooses. When I went out in the evening to feed them, Alan came with me. He was going to change the light bulb over her stall, and I was going to install the baby monitor, so I could hear her at night if I happened to be sleeping when it began.
She was standing in the middle of the stall, however, a little black lump of fur beside her.
At first, I couldn't imagine what it might be... a raccoon?!! A possum?!!! A giant rat?!!! But, no...
When I came to the realization that she had already given birth to at least one baby, I hardly knew what to do. She seemed okay, but I had no idea whether or not the little one had survived. It was, after all, early.
When checked, however, it was merely curled up and sleeping, and there was another behind Carolina that I hadn't been able to see from outside the stall... also quite alive. Both were bucks. I could have wished for at least one doe.
They are tiny, certainly smaller than Spider, our cat. One was much smaller than the other, and seemed to be chilled, unable to get his feet. I warmed him against my body until he stopped shivering, and then held him up to his mother's teat.
Now, first-time goat-mothers like Carolina can be like any other mothers. They may not know exactly what to do. They may not be prepared for these little aliens to begin sucking on portions of their anatomy--very sensitive portions, I might add. However, Carolina accepted it all with aplomb, nuzzling the little creatures maternally and daintily stepping around them when she needed to move. What a patient mama.
The chilled one, whom we called Carolina's Jazzy Star (Satchmo or Jazzy, for short) was the black one with the little galaxy of stars flecked on his coat... on on his forehead and chest, a couple on his ears, some on his tummy. He needed extra care. I went out every four hours for the first 24 to hold him up to his mother's teat to make sure he was getting enough sustenance.
However, he still didn't seem to be getting quite enough. It was as if he couldn't quite find or keep the nipple in his mouth long enough to get a full belly... so while his brother (Maestro's Sweet Mojo) was getting fat and happy and strong, Satchmo was still unsteady.
At last, I did something I did not want to have to do. I bought "milk replacer" for Satchmo and bottle fed him. I plan to feed him by bottle once or twice a day as a supplement until he can get the hang of nursing from his mama. The formula will not be as good for him by a long shot as his own mother's milk will be. However, if he's not able to get enough, for whatever reason, from her, then it's best he has something additional until he can. Luckily, Mojo will be able to keep Carolina's milk going until Jazzy can join him at the buffet.
In the meantime, I have to admit that bottle feeding has its charms. There's nothing like seeing the tiny little tail wag in greeting.
And his little face is so love-y as he waits for the bottle, it's hard to stop kissing his long enough to offer the food.
Cuddling him is also fun at this point because he hasn't quite figured out where the food comes from, so he'll try to nurse anything that's put in front of him. He's particularly fond of my chin. And when I'm done feeding him, he falls to sleep, just like a human baby might.
Unfortunately, this is when I must return him to his real mother. It really wouldn't do to teach him that he can snuggle with me in bed, which I admit is where I--like a fool--would like to take him. But it wouldn't be much fun when he's a 250 pound stinky buck, I imagine. I don't think it would even be much fun when he's a 40 pound stinky buck.
However, I've got a few more pounds and months before he starts putting on his mature nanny-killah scent, so I'll just have to enjoy the snuggling and chin-sucking now while I can.
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