Love is Blind: The Story of Little Whiskey

   

      So I only had a couple of things to tend to, and then...back to business. From Thursday's emergency C-section, to Friday's sleepless night and round-the-clock bottle feedings, we were running on fumes. I needed sleep and I needed to check in with the rest of my life.
     Around 3 o'clock Saturday, I took a break from bookkeeping to go check on the kids. In the corner was Callie, my calico girl, (twin sister to Coco; daughter of Donner, who Thursday night threw her third set of twins in 3 years, bringing the kid count to 12). Thanks to Callie the count would now be 13, (save for a few we sold over the weekend).
     It was a first for Callie and she certainly didn't need my help. By the time I found her she was licking the little guy clean and looking up in her "Look what I made!" proud mama way~
     To her left was Hix, there to protect. Funniest instinct, this Pyr to pygmy bond...it starts at birth if you'll let it. Now that they've convinced me they'll go gentle on the newbies, I leave them be. Because we have so many babies, the dogs take turns picking favorites but once picked, they don't tend to share. (Though I will say, we got some serious 50 shades of gray going on over here, so it's hard to tell about 8 of them apart, though their mama's know instantly.)
     Sunday morning I headed out to the barn where opening the door normally nets me a stream of hungry, bleating energized goats ready for their chow, which we feed across the lot to free up the barn for cleaning. Like ducks in a row, they pile out...First Heffner, then Cupid, then Elsie, then . . . on and on in their little goat parade. And now we have the little ones, hopping and darting and dancing between their mamas and each other...dodging the dogs and hopping like bunnies. The entire feeding routine requires a great deal of dexterity as running from bowl to bowl is a big part of it. While I juggle and stumble about ( the trick is to try to get the food in the bowls before their heads pop up, as goats are persnickety eaters and grain on the ground is grain wasted) we manage to get everyone fed...Everyone, except Callie.
     Back at the barn I hear someone crying. She is standing at the doorway, (most unusual at feeding time) torn between eating and staying with her baby.  I head back across the lot thinking "How odd... Something must be wrong." The baby's only a day old, but that's never been a deterrent. They start hopping as soon as they're dry.  The others have learned to follow their mamas out to the troughs and this one will too. Only this one wasn't. This one (named Whiskey, for a little shot of caramel on his back right flank) was back in his corner, sound asleep despite his mother's loud bleating.
     I coax Callie out with food thinking she's the best mama ever. She doesn't want to leave her baby, so I pick the little guy up and bring him outside to play with the others while she eats. Only he's not game for playing.
     Like everyone on this farm, each baby arrives with personality. Most are curious. Some are skittish; maybe he's just shy. But with Callie's head now in a bowl of chow, I spot check her backside only to find her udders totally engorged from lack of milking. The baby appears healthy enough, but something isn't right. I let her finish, then lead her back into the barn with hay, as I attempt to get little Whisk to latch on, but to no avail. Callie lifts a hind leg welcoming the help. (I've never seen a goat do this. It's a very trusting gesture, after all, I'm not running a dairy operation here and I have never milked Callie, though she took to it quite naturally, as did I...not sure which surprised me more.) I gently pry open the little guy's mouth and physically squirt milk from his mother, but he could care less. He appears to be grasping the concept, just not the teat. Meanwhile he punches blindly near her front legs as if looking for a needle in a haystack. Then it hits me...Maybe he IS blind.
     Oddly enough it's relief, not worry that I see in Callie's eyes. Now that we know she seems perfectly fine. "We'll just have to adjust" she appears to be thinking, and about that time TJ comes to our corner, as if thinking the same. (Note: it was Hix who was first to bond at birth, but on this one, seems they've decided to share, as if to say "One of us will always be watching him Mom, don't worry."
     I head into the house for a mason jar and a baby bottle and return to a most cooperative Callie who whose relief is palpable. (The first few rounds of mother's milk are crucial, as the colostrum helps establish their little immune systems.) We get her milk into the little dude as she continues to munch on hay, fellow goats and 2 big Pyrs ever by her side.
     As with farming, especially so with goats...It really does take a village. If little a blind goat had to be born to someone, he sure picked a good mama, and a village full of open, loving, willing hearts to see him through.