Unfortunately, it was after dark last night and so the camera was left at home because of lack of light. Too bad, because it was priceless. Michelle, a dear friend, called to tell me she thought Chicory was getting close to delivering and so we loaded up with an armful of flashlights and I called our daughter to bring the grand kids. Michelle and I had been leap frogging each other all day, keeping an eye on her.
For some reason, Chicory has to have assistance in delivering her kids but her two daughters, I had last year, did not so since it isn't a trait passed on, I keep her. She has so many other desirable qualities to make up for the one stressful week a year.
Our daughter rushed over and our youngest, just three years old, hurried in the goat pen, grabbed a flashlight and rushed to the back side of Chicory, aiming the light at her exit hole, and proclaimed with professional authority. "Nope, there not coming out yet." We just about burst into laughter. She's only seen one birth but little miss, " I know that." knew just what to look for.
While the our little nurse was frequently checking to make sure nothing had changed from just one minute ago, her oldest sister had grabbed four empty, four gallon buckets and was headed for the goat shed to set them up for seating for the big event. It's amazing how much they remember from last year. The only year they've witnessed such an event.
After waiting a stressful week as Chicory forgot to refresh herself and read the chapter in the goat book about how your body should prepare and deliver kids and of course did it all wrong - plus, fiddle farted around all day Saturday instead of getting things done, I decided I'd had enough. After observing her for a little while and her lack of serious contractions, I studied my chances of getting inside. Yup, her flanks were well sunk in, her rump tipped steeply downward, her tail head where the spine meets the tail very loose and raised, her udder ginormous. I said, "I'm done waiting, I'm going in." and I washed up and did.
Michelle graciously held her collar and winced at the wails of discomfort from Chicory as I worked my way inside, rotating my hand in a semi-circle to open her cervix enough to allow the small little hooves I felt at the entrance to exit. Our daughter winced in discomfort at the thought of what I was doing seeing as she's seven months pregnant.
Ring, ring, Michelle's phone chirped, " I can't talk right now, we're delivering a kid." she told her daughter as she was upset she had missed the event. She's been there two years in a row.
Chicory is a favorite in the neighborhood and attracts lots of attention. Too bad no time to chat but we had work to do. Gently I pulled downward, to help assure that the head came with the feet and didn't turn back and I didn't cause tearing by rushing. This allowed Chicory to push as I assisted by pulling, and let her rest a moment before pushing once more as in a normal delivery. Yet, one can't wait too long though or the kid's lungs will fill with fluid.
When the first little doe was out, I cleaned out her mouth and looked up at Michelle in panic. "If this is the size of the kids, she's having four."
After I'd cleaned and dried the first doe, I began the process over again. Luckily, I could feel number two lined up perfectly for her exit. This was when Kirk arrived and as he walked up, I could hear him in conversation with a close friend who lives several states away.
" What you doing?"
"I'm walking to the corrals, our goat's kidding."
"What's she kidding about?"
"No, I mean she's having kids."
Just then the grand daughters squealed with delight at the delivery of number two and they ended their conversation.
And so with a packed audience of six people lining the shed's outer walls, the third doe arrived. Michelle's daughter texting her disappointment at having missed out.
Babies all fed and standing unsupported, we headed for home with with three tired grand daughters, one already asleep in the back seat. After tucking the two oldest in their bunk beds, and saying prayers, the youngest, still wide awake, settled in with Papa. She insisting on wearing his reading glasses making the pages really blurry, but continued telling him all about the princesses. I of course couldn't resist snapping a picture.