For The Love Of My Father.

In this order:

1.  I love my dad.

2.  Sorry mom.


Now, more details:

Regarding item #1.  As you know, yesterday was Father’s Day, and I love my dad.  He has been a hard worker my whole life, loves my mom, my sister and me, and our husbands, and our children.  He has exceptional integrity and business sense.  He is wise.  He is a devoted friend to his friends.  He is strong willed…which allowed him to ski 66 days this winter despite the intense pain from an injury to his leg.  He makes the best hamburgers and great margaritas.  He is a loving Gramp.  He gives good back rubs.  He gives good advice.

His only downfall is that he loves meatloaf.

And, now, some more details:

Regarding item #2.  I invited myself, ONLY myself, no children or husband, over for dinner at Mom and Dad’s last night.  I sent my boys out with their father for dinner, and I went, alone, to have dinner with my father.  I offered to bring Dad a pepperoni pizza.  But, lo an behold, Mom had already prepared him a meatloaf!  His favorite!

Mom, dinner last night was delicious!  The broiled tomatoes topped with seasoned bread crumbs, baked potatoes with sour cream and butter, black beans with cilantro and feta were amazing!  Oh.  Did I forget to mention the meatloaf?  I guess it was a Freudian slip, because as you know, Mom, I hate meatloaf.  That’s part of what I apologized about in #2.  But, really, the apology is for the hideous meatloaf picture I took on the sly last night, and the seriously awful comments about meatloaf that may follow.  Please don’t take them personally.  I love you.  I just don’t love meatloaf.


Now, first of all, WHAT IS THAT BROWN STUFF?  No, I know the brown lump on the right is the meatloaf, and the liquidy stuff on the left is some kind of liquidy stuff, but the tannish brownish substance in the middle?  What on earth is that?


From this picture, although not the most flattering photo of my Dad’s favorite Mom-made meatloaf, one might decide to NEVER eat meatloaf AGAIN!  It’s like a big container of Spam, dumped upside down with the goop slobbered all over the pan.  Thank goodness the void on the left of the picture means the second meatloaf had already been removed from the pan and set on a serving plate, sans slobber.  While meatloaf on a serving plate is not appetizing to me either, if I had seen this mess before eating, there’s a distinct possibility I would not have been able to stomach the meatloaf at all.

But, I didn’t.  And I still have vivid pictures in my mind of looking at Dad last night, his smiling eyes two feet from mine, as I touched the knife to the meatloaf.  I told him, “This is a sign of a devoted, loving daughter.”  I cut an inch thick slice of meatloaf (I can’t even stand the smell) and loafed it onto my plate, then drenched it in Heinz chili sauce.  Not just any ketchup, mind you, but the same Heinz chili sauce that has decorated my Mom’s meatloaf for all or most of my 38 years.  I wouldn’t call mine decoration.  I’d call it an attempt to decrease my gag reflex.

And, now, at the table with Mom, Dad and our overflowing plates of Father’s Day dinner, we enjoyed each other’s company.  And, I saved my meatloaf for last.  Usually, I save the best for last.  But this time, I just couldn’t eat the worst first.  Then, I added more chile sauce.

Mom, do you remember the conversation about the bank?  Well, it was about that time that I was finally taking bites of my meatloaf, looking at Dad, interested in what he was saying, and trying really hard not to laugh.  I was actually having to suppress the above mentioned gag reflex.  I’m not kidding.  The texture, the smell, the chunks of green bell pepper, the taste, all prove how much I love my Dad.

I choked down his favorite meal, without hardly complaining.

Thank goodness for the orange sherbet with chocolate sauce for dessert.  That forgives a multitude of meatloaf sins.


I love you Dad.  And for you, ONLY for you, I will eat meatloaf again.  But next Father’s Day, I hope I catch Mom BEFORE she makes the meatloaf, and I promise to bring pepperoni pizza.

-  Love, Lindsey

Posted in Farm Life, good people to know | Tagged , , , | 3 Comments

Bring On The BEES! Part 2

Continued from Bring On The BEES!  Part 1:

8.  Then Get Them:  Here’s where it gets interesting.  I was teaching a class last Saturday morning and noticed a message on my phone around 9 am.  I listened to it around 2 pm, after the students had left and I had cleaned up and was ready for my three-ish hour after class nap.  “Hi, This Is John.  I’ve been trying to reach you.  I’ve got your bees.  You can come and get ‘em today anytime.”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!  I let out a silent scream and shot out the door propelled by the triple shot of adrenaline that was coursing through my blood stream.

“HONEY????  Can you whip up a couple beehives in the next two hours???????  The BEES are here!!!!!”

I love my husband.  He is amazing.  He can build anything.  But, I don’t recall him ever being on such an urgent deadline to build two of something he’d never built before.

We hatched a plan that while he built the hives, the boys and I would jump in the car and drive to Buckley’s to get beeswax (to attract the little buggers to their new abodes) and then head up to Black Forest to pick up the bees.

Pick.  Up.  The.  Bees.

How does one DO that?  Do bees come in a bag?  A can?  A box?  Do they escape?  Will they fly out and sting me or fly in my face while I’m driving my car?  Do we need to drive the truck and have them in the back to keep us safe from stinging and swatting while driving?

Despite our urgency however, The Animal Whisperer and I agreed our afternoon coffee and chocolate chips was a must.  After sharing a rather calm, enjoyable five minutes together, he jumped on the computer to figure out the best way to build a hive and we jumped in the car.

Now, really, why in any normal world would a person NEED the beehives ready BEFORE bringing home the bees?  We proved it was not necessary.  Might be helpful, yes.  But not necessary.

(I’ve already figure out the title of my new book:  “How To Homestead NOT By The Book.”)

The boys and I arrived to Buckley’s and through my permanent smile of hysterical disbelief at the impending bee ownership situation, I told Allison we needed beeswax for the bees that were going to be riding home in my car and put into their not-yet-built hives in a couple of hours.  She wondered if The Animal Whisperer would build hives to sell at her store.  Why, YES!  I told her!  I’m sure once he builds two, he can build more!

I’ll let him in on his new business when I get home.

Back on the road, the boys and I had road trip milkshakes in the car, special for the occasion.  In my mind, you can’t really go get bees unless you have some really good tasting but pretty much bad for you junk food on the way there.  It just makes the trip that much more enjoyable.

Thirty minutes later, we showed up in Black Forest.  As instructed, I pulled into the house with the Two, White, Ford Pickups in front of it, even though the address was #73 instead of #83.  I figured the bee man had just mis-spoken when giving me directions.

Oops.  #73 had Two, White, Chevy Pickups in front of it and, I KNOW a Chevy man does NOT accidentally call his trucks Fords.  Wrong House.

One driveway north was #83.  Two White Ford Pickups and four hundred beehives stacked everywhere.  Must be the right place.

We waited while some other bee picker-upper backed out of the small driveway and watched someone else park on the road.  Hoppin’ place!

As we got out of the car, I warned the boys (in my infinite knowledge of honey bees flying around everywhere):  Bee careful.  (pun intended)

I chose not to let on to the bee man that I was ill-equipped to deal with bees, not being one of the Colorado Springs masses of future beekeepers that has attended the oft referred to and always sold out Bee Keeping Class every March.  I did sign up in one of the years referred to in #3, but for some unrecalled reason, did not attend.

He mentioned that he’d been calling the wrong phone number for three or four days, leaving messages for me, until the kind person on the other end called him back and said s/he was not me.  How he figured out the right number, I don’t know.  As we loaded them in the car, he warned that the bees were probably low on their travel food and we should spray them with sugar water when we get home.

“1 to 1, sugar to water.”  Got it.

“Anything else we should do?”  Hoping he might enlighten me on how on earth we get the swarms of bees (12,000 of them per box) into their new hives.

“Nope.  Just introduce them like usual.”

“OK!  Thanks!”  Smile, pretend, wonder.  Like usual.  Yes, like usual.  We’ll just do it like usual.  Of course.


24,000 bees in the back of the car.  No, they didn’t escape.  But they buzzed really loud.  It certainly was enough to make a person just a little anxious while driving home.

9.  Then Finish Their Home:  Just like when we brought our first two goats home, the bees came home to almost completed housing.


The Animal Whisperer had been working his tail off, making the first hive out of the dresser drawers and the second out of an old futon frame.  But, two hours just isn’t enough for even him to finish two bee hives.  The dresser drawer hive was up and running by dark, and, as if we had planned it with an abundance of previous knowledge, we “introduced” the first box of bees to their hive around 8:30 pm.  Night time, we learned when I Googled “how to get the bees into their hive” on my phone after the box was opened and the bees weren’t moving, was a great time to introduce the bees to their hive because they are less active.  Less prone to get mad and sting.  The Animal Whisperer took the top off of Hive #1 and shook.  3/4 of the bees fell out into the hive, the other 1/4 stayed put.

Shouldn’t there be a queen?  Bee hives need a queen, right?  But where is she?  Maybe inside the can?  No!  Inside the little queen bee box that the masses of bees were holding onto!


But, how in the heck do you get HER out?  She’s in this little tiny box with a fine, wire mesh window.  With bees stuck all over it.

Another question for Google:  “How to get the queen out of her little box”.  The answer appeared: leave her in the box inside the hive for a few days so the bees can get to know her.  “They don’t know her from Adam,” it said.  (I have always wondered who Adam is?)


The Animal Whisperer screwed her box’s metal handle to one of the bars in the hive and there she stayed.  Surrounded (hopefully) by her newly adoring 11,999 bees.

We didn’t have to tackle outing the queen in the dark that night.

The other box of bees spent the night in the garage, after a good dousing of sugar water spray, we hoped they’d be alive in the morning.

They were.  Phew.

And most of the other group had made it into Hive #1 overnight, so there was only a little morning shake-the-bees-out to be done.

The Animal Whisperer finished the futon hive, Hive #2, by mid morning and dropped 1/4 of the bees into their new hive.  He was now feeling like an expert and knew just what to do with the queen.  He attached her box onto one of the bars in the hive and let the dudes get to know her.


The characters who were supposed to be the occupants of Hive #2 were a little hesitant, however, and the majority of them stayed in their travel box.


Since the Animal Whisperer was now skilled at bee keeping, he decided to bag the “let’s get to know the queen” idea and just let them both out of their boxes.  Heck, they’d already traveled with her from California, how much better could they get to know her?

Outing Queen #1 resulted in her making an immediate escape flight from the queen bee box and out into the wild blue yonder.  She apparently was smart enough to realize she’d better get the heck out of dodge.  We hoped out loud that she would also realize what side her bread was buttered on and come back to her adoring throng of bees.


Outing Queen #2 proceeded a little differently.  She was a touch lethargic.  The Animal Whisperer opened her screen and she flopped out and to the bottom of the Hive #2.  Hopefully she’ll rise to the occasion.  She was just a little carsick?

Now, four days later, all seems to be well in bee land.  Bees are flying around, apparently pollinating things, and apparently living in their respective hives.

And, there you have it.  The story of how we got bees.  Hopefully we’ll actually get some honey in the fall and I can tell you how that adventure goes.

Meanwhile, every time I see a bee buzz by, I smile and think, “Ooooohhhh, that’s one of OUR bees!”  It is a little odd to feel a sense of ownership over a bug though.  I can’t imagine saying, “Oh, wonderful!  That’s one of our spiders!”  I guess if I was raising spiders for silk, I might feel that way.  Hopefully I won’t fall THAT far off the deep end.

And, for the record, The Animal Whisperer only got stung twice.

-  The Goat Cheese (and Bee) Lady

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Bring on the BEES! Part 1

I found out a couple of days ago…we do bees the same way we did goats:


Think about it for a while, talk about it, not do it, then do it, talk about building their home, then start it, then not finish it, then get them, then finish their home.

Let me point out some issues in that rather vague word picture of our animal/insect aquisition process.

1. Think About It For A While. There is nothing apparently wrong with this. It is how all great ideas start. One small thought enters the mind through some unfiltered, undetectable micro tube in the brain, something that looks similar to one of Dr. Seuss’s long talking tubes in Horton Hears A Who.  The bee flew into my tube about three years ago.

2. Talk About It.  Nothing much wrong here either, except this was (as I recall) the way it went when we first talked about it. 

Me:  I think we should get bees.

My Husband:  WHAT?  Are you CRAZY?  There’s NO WAY we are getting bees!  They will ATTRACT BEARS!!  We DON’T need BEARS around here with the GOATS and CHICKENS!  AND, we’ll NEVER be able to have ANYONE over because someone who is allergic to bees MIGHT GET STUNG!!  Just get that OUT OF YOUR MIND.  (Perceived bold letters are my interpretation.)

Me:  Ok.

Thinking to myself, I know you, I know you will get used to the idea, I just had to be the one to insert it into your Dr. Suess brain tube and hear the verbal side effects of the pain it caused as it traveled to the “My Wife’s Crazy” section of your brain.  Soon, you will adopt it as your own, maybe not tomorrow, but at some point in our future together.

3.  Not Do It.  For three years.  After about one year, it came up again as he warmed up to the idea of bears frequenting our property and people getting stung.  We repeated steps 1 and 2 again, each year for 2 more years.  But each spring, when it’s the best time to “start” bees, we decided we had too many other irons in the fire, and put it off…again.

4.  Then Do It.  This year, in about the beginning of April, feeling the bee procrastination bug biting again, I couldn’t bear one more year without what was a natural progression of our farm.  We have our own milk, cheese, soap, eggs, meat, vegetables, child labor and fruit.  WE NEEDED BEES.  And The Animal Whisperer agreed.  Without further adieu, I called Christine Faith who told me to call the Pikes Peak Bee Keeper’s Association who told me to call John Hartley who told me yes, there was still time to order bees, how many did I want?


Whoa, that was a concrete question, which required a concrete answer, which meant we were seriously getting bees.  I narrowly averted an embarassing hang up and mind change with the bee man.

“How much are they?”  I asked, shocked to hear that one order of 3 pounds of bees and a queen costs $97.50!  (Quick translation:  Much like good cheese, NO WONDER GOOD HONEY COSTS SO DANG MUCH!!)  And learned that he drives to Northern California every spring to bring back bees.  They are bees that he trusts, as they have not been Africanized.  (still don’t know what that means, but I understand it’s bad and Africanized bees haven’t been detected in Colorado yet.)  I would need to mail him a check now and he’d call me mid-May when he gets back from California.  It’d all depend on the weather.

“Two.”  I told him.  Two orders of bees.

There.  It was done.  Once we actually have bees on our property, there will be no turning back.  No more procrastinating.

5.  Talk About Building Their Home.  This was my plan, the boys and I were going to shock The Animal Whisperer and build the two hives ourselves!  We had a pile of old dresser drawers that kept hinting to me they were the perfect size for beehives.  I would just have to learn how to use the table saw, cut them to the right size and make a bunch of sticks to put on the top and somehow we would fashion them into two beehives.

6. Then (Me) Start It:  I made it to the “learn to use the table saw” part.  I cut the back ends of the drawers off, set them on the ground and there the three sided drawers sat for a month.  Gathering dust, leaves and spider webs.

7.  Then (Me) Not Finish It:  Funny, they did not finish themselves.  And without any guidance from their beehive impaired mother, the boys (5 and 9 years old) did not finish them either.  (Note:  On #6 and #7, I specify it was “me”.  Not for any other reason than to make clear that I take full responsiblity for starting the project and not finishing it.)

And, now, since this is becoming a rather long story, you’ll need to read Part 2 when I recover from Part 1 induced carpal tunnel syndrome.

Talk to you then,

-The Goat Cheese Lady

Posted in Bees, Farm Life, funny stories, Google, How To... | Tagged , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Please help us CURE Cystic Fibrosis!!!

My sister and I grew up with Samantha and Libby .  They are sisters who were born with Cystic Fibrosis, a deadly genetic disease that affects the lungs and digestion of 30,000 children and young adults around the world.  At that time, their life expectancy was their teens.  They take up to 20 pills per day to help digest their food, and spend at least two hours per day doing breathing treatments to help decongest their lungs.  They are still hospitalized intermittently to improve their health when it takes a downward turn.  Their parents had hopes they’d live long enough to get married and even possibly…have children.

Times have changed.  Medication and treatment for CF has improved drastically.  Now, the life expectancy is the mid-30s.

Samantha is 31.

Libby is 28.

And….guess what!!!  Samantha is married to Christian!  Libby is married to Will!!!

And…guess what, AGAIN!!!

photo (15)

Samantha gave birth to healthy twins last June!


And Libby and Will adopted a baby boy 5 weeks ago!!

So far, their dreams and their parents dreams for them have been realized.

Now, there’s only one left.  And it’s a big one.

The Animal Whisperer and I are passionate about helping to make sure Samantha grows old with Christian to raise their twins, Tommy and Luci.  We are passionate about helping to make sure Libby grows old with Will to raise their newborn son, Liam.

But, there is still a chance they won’t.

The final dream has to be realized:  Finding a cure for CF.

donate to my cause

The history of progress in working toward a cure for CF is exceptional…but we’re not there yet.  Doctors and scientists have found the gene that causes CF, they’ve developed life extending drug therapies and treatments, but you’ll notice, despite huge advances, there is nothing there that says “CURED.”  We need your donations.

Last year, we could report that a new medication was significantly prolonging the lives of a small percentage of people with a specific kind of CF.  This year, there’s another medication which may drastically change the lives of a much larger percentage of people with CF.  The latest progress in treatment may help Samantha and Libby directly.

photo (12)

Tommy and Luci need their mom at their college graduations, they need her at their weddings.  They need her to advise them when they have their own kids.

photo (16)

And, they shouldn’t have to take care of her until she’s at least 90.  (check out the socks…adorable!!)

Here’s how you can help:

1. Sign up for The Goat Cheese Lady team here.  Start raising money now!  And, meet us at the Great Strides walk at America The Beautiful Park in Colorado Springs on May 18, 2013 !  Registration starts at 8am, the walk starts at 9am.

2.  If you don’t live in or near Colorado Springs, you can click here then click “Make A Donation” and donate to The Goat Cheese Lady team.  Whatever amount you can donate will help us reach the $6,000 goal!!!

Last year, we raised $5,500.

WITH YOUR HELP, THIS YEAR we can reach our goal of $6,000!!!

donate to my cause


Liam needs his mommy to hold and cuddle and teach him through all the stages of his life.  He needs her to give him the life experiences that only she will be able to give him.

So, we have to make sure she lives.

Please help Luci, Tommy and Liam have a full life with their beautiful, energetic, full of life and creativity mothers.

Please join our team and walk with us or donate.  Whatever you can do will help find a cure!!!

-  The Goat Cheese Lady and The Team


Little Luci checking out Little Liam.  I just couldn’t resist showing you this picture.

Posted in Cystic Fibrosis, Farm Life, gifts, good people to know | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

And Two More Makes Five!

We checked on Sally last night around 9 pm when we did chores.  Her udder was full and she’d been by herself a lot of the day, no signs of mucousy discharge.  Birth did not seem imminent.  We watched a YouTube video about how the moon affects planting and went to bed.

This morning, Voila!  Magic!  There were kids!


New kids!

Sally’s new kids!  Two soft and cuddly (and large) bucklings!

But it took a minute for The Animal Whisperer to realize what was going on.

He went out to the barn around 7 am to feed.  When he lets the goats and chickens out of their various stalls, he always checks to make sure everything is as expected.  Every animal accounted for and in good shape.  He scanned the barn, saw all the usual suspects.  All goats and kids and chickens present.

But WAAAAAAIT just a darn MINUTE!  The kids cuddled up on the leaves right over there WERE NOT on the roster last night.

It’s got to be a funny feeling to look in on the animals and see two babies lying there, dry, cuddled up, sleeping, no signs of birth, no mess, no nothing.  Just all the usual goats plus two extra babies.  It’s the kind of feeling that might stop you in your tracks for a second until you do a quick early morning clear the cobwebs out of the brain scan and realize that yes, there is a goat in here whose voice told her quickly and efficiently that it was time to get those babies on the outside of her body, instead of the inside.  And thankfully, she did it without waking us up, producing two healthy little boys.

Sally, you are my new favorite goat.  Plus, you have the longest beard.  There are rare times that a beard looks good on a woman.  This is one of those times.

So, there you have it.  Potentially the end of our kidding season.  Potentially, because we’re not sure if Canela ever really got pregnant, despite being bred and bred and bred and bred and bred, until we finally sold her boyfriend.

If she does have some unexpected babies, it’ll be sometime in the summer and you’ll hear about it.

Now, I’ve got to go back and stir the first batch of feta I’ve made in six months.  Thank goodness the milk is flowing again!!!

-  The Goat Cheese Grandma.  Proud Grandma of this season’s 5 new kids.

Posted in Cheese Making, Farm Life, Kidding, Milking | Tagged , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Lucy’s Turn!

Three Days Ago:

Goats don’t plan their births for the most convenient times.  OK.  You’re right, they don’t plan them at all.  So, whoever is in charge of the whole “when should I get down to business and get these baby goats on the outside of my body instead of the inside” needs a talking to.

Two in the morning just isn’t acceptable.

I’m sorry, but nature calls me to be asleep at night.  Not to be in the barn.  So, thank goodness for The Animal Whisperer.  Nature doesn’t seem to call him to sleep at all, as much as he would like to, and since he woke up at 1 am and couldn’t fall asleep again, he decided to go check on Lucy to see if she was having any movement toward birthing the babes in her stomach.

And, much different than poor Dottie’s experience, Lucy was done.



She had birthed her baby bucklings on her own!

How nature intended.  No human intervention.  Just shear goat guts without an epidural.

When The Animal Whisperer arrived to the barn, the first boy was totally clean (licked off by his mama) and the second must have showed up on the scene a few minutes after the first, still partly covered in birthing fluids.m.

And, because this is a family affair, he came up to the house to wake me at 3.  A.  M.  And, because our children are part of the family, we woke them up too.  The nine-year old threw on his barn clothes and nearly sprinted to the barn, the five-year-old languished in bed whining and complaining that he was too tired and too cold but really wanted to see the babies…could he JUST go in his PAJAMAS???  (hmmm…let me think about that…NO.)

And, so it was that the Aparicio family met Lucy’s new little family.  At 3 in the gosh darn morning.

And, as for Dottie and her doeling, I’m happy to report, they are both doing well.


Dottie will have her last shot of penicillin today, she is healing and Chispita (Little Spark) is hopping and jumping around…splint-free!  Her back legs can now support her in all of her walking, jumping and pirouetting endeavors.

Lucy had a difficult kidding last year…we’re thankful she did it all on her own, successfully, this year.

-  The Goat Cheese Lady

P.S.  Next up is Sally.  Wish her luck.

Posted in Farm Life, Kidding | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

Who Guessed Dottie???

If you guessed Dottie…YOU WERE RIGHT!!!

Congratulations!  You win an all expense paid trip to the barn tonight to take care of her!  And her baby!

Yes, 4 days of labor is long.  She wasn’t in full-on labor the whole time, but we’d notice a contraction every once in a while.  Last night was when her water broke…that’s when we started seeing a thick mucousy strand hanging out of her.  For our experience here, that usually means things will move pretty quickly.


That was at 8:30 last night.  I went out at 9:45 pm, The Animal Whisperer went out at 11 pm and 3:30 am,  and I went out again at 6 am.


She still had the gooey discharge that had covered the tip of her tail and part of her udder.  Her udder was full (another good sign).  But no babies.

When I say it usually means things will move pretty quickly, I mean we’ll have babies in 2 or 3 hours.  So far, it had been 9.  I cancelled all the work I had planned to do for the morning, invited my mom over for coffee and birthing, and she, The Animal Whisperer and I hurried up… and waited.  The kids begged to stay home, but we sent them to school with the promise we’d get them out when things got more active.

We checked her about every 20 minutes, looked for contractions, saw weak ones every 4 to 10 minutes (too weak and erratic…not a good sign).  She started pawing the ground at some point in the morning…a good sign.

I finally picked the kids up from school at 11:15.  Not because there was rapidly progressing labor, but because I had to go to a meeting and The Animal Whisperer would need help and would not be able to leave to get the kids if the birthing began.

It didn’t.

Worried that she was not progressing, and remembering that Lucy had the same problem last year and birthed a stillborn, at 2 pm, he went in.  To her.  To get them.  After 20 minutes, he pulled out the first one.  A boy.  Stillborn.

I was still out in town, and close to the vet medical supply store.  He called, requested supplies, I got penicillin, more NutriDrench, rubbing alcohol, betadine and lubricant, and I hot footed it home.

Dottie and my husband were in the small goat shed, both with exhausted faces and Dottie still looking very pregnant.  Over the course of the next 2 hours, we pulled out 4 more kids.  After the first one that The Animal Whisperer delivered, she was no longer having contractions (bad sign.)


I washed up to above my elbows with betadine, gloved up and went in, to the second knuckle of my index and middle fingers.  Right away I felt a tiny hoof.  This, the second kid, I pulled out left back leg first, his amniotic sac had already broken.  I attempted, but just couldn’t turn him around.


Next, I reached in up to my forearm, found the next one in a bubble (she was still protected by her sac), and coaxed her out her head first.


Of all of them, Dottie delivered her the easiest…the lubrication of the intact sac helped.

Numbers four and five required reaching in up to between my elbow and armpit, both were stillborn.

We gave Dottie 2 cc’s of penicillin after the first kid was out, in attempt to protect her from the bacteria and germs that we were inevitably introducing to her system.  We’ll give it to her for 7-10 days.  We hope it works.  She had an awful, painful day.

Number three is the one that lived.  She can’t stand up on her back legs successfully yet, so I’ve splinted them at the knees so that they can’t hyperextend, which is helping her maintain standing, but she continues to topple over like a four legged tree at the drop of a hat.  So, no nursing for her yet.  Dottie’s udder is hanging too low and the baby can’t balance well enough to even think about latching on.  We’ve got her inside and she’s had a good amount of Dottie’s colostrum from a bottle.


We warmed her with towels and a heating pad, and now she’s sleeping in a Rubbermaid storage box.

Aren’t you glad you WON??  We’ll see you tonight at midnight at the barn for bottle feeding and checking on Dottie.  And, don’t worry, for the night time feedings, you can wear your pajamas.

-  The Goat Cheese Lady and The Animal Whisperer and Dottie and her baby girl.

Posted in Farm Life, How To..., Kidding | Tagged , , , | 6 Comments