"Each moment of the year has
its own beauty."
- Ralph Waldo Emerson
As long as I believe this, I can continue to put in the effort required to keep this farm going. And believe it, I do! Despite the brutal cold that I face going out late at night and in the wee hours of the morning for barn checks, the beauty of the stars, the pairing up of ‘sisters’ in the goat barn and the anticipation of this season’s kidding have me totally jazzed.
There is a sense of rebirth in the air and around the farm as we busily prepare for the arrival of the next generation of goats, next wave of CAP customers, next cohort of kids in our educational programs, next crops in the garden—otherwise known as ‘Spring’. I feel privileged to be a part of this vibrant time.
For those of you who have been on the website and new BarnCam, you may have caught a glimpse of the flurry of activity. After five months of waiting, due dates are upon us. I chuckle when people ask when a particular goat is due—don’t they remember childbirth? The baby comes when the baby’s ready. So it is with the goats—I watch due dates come and go and wonder why. Sometimes the delay is the doe just reading the weather and holding off so as not to deliver in a snowstorm—quite brilliant. But each day that passes, those babies are getting larger and the delivery potentially more complicated.
Then there’s the question of how & if to participate. I get asked why I run to check the barn or why I assist in the delivery—shouldn’t we let nature take over? Yes and no—if nature runs its course, we’ll lose some does or some kids that we might not have to if we helped—untangling babies or righting wrong presentations; giving a shot to stimulate contractions if the doe fails to labor; helping pull a kid with a contraction to accelerate the delivery and take some stress off the mom or baby are some of many examples. We’ve ‘domesticated’ these creatures—we feed them, control & limit their environment so we owe it to them to help.
But what do I know? I’m not a vet and am relatively new at this job—so making the correct call—to intervene or not—is tricky. And when a doe goes it alone (because I missed the delivery) and it’s successful, it’s humbling—reminding me just how amazing nature is. When I do participate, I am awed and grateful to play a role.
This has been a glorious start to the season. 
We have had 10 deliveries of 24 kids (14 & 10 male/female), assisting in most. I have been lucky to have great family and friends by my side who share in my passion and keep me sane as I debate my options.
Here are some examples. Macy, a three year old and previous kidder, was showing signs of early labor two days after her due date. But it wasn’t until 18 hours later before she really went into labor and then pushed for nearly an hour without progressing—and in a lot of pain. It turns out the baby was breach so I helped her at that point. By contrast, Celine was doing everything she could to avoid the barn and under protest came in for the night—no sign of labor or even any significant body changes at 3am. Sometime around 5:30 am she popped out two boys, unassisted. Whitney, our perennial tripler, was enormous and hanging out well past her due date—as she got bigger, I got more worried. She had a long labor before delivering a huge buckling. 
Two and a half hours passed with no other kids. Half-panicked, a vet consult and lots of support from Cara, I went in to see what was up. We propped her up with some power punch to restore her energy and I went back in to get those kids. The next fifteen minutes felt like 60 but we successfully retrieved another buckling. Thankfully, the last kid (a doe!) came five minutes behind and on her own.
We’re probably less than half of the way through this season—I pray the births to date are predictive of what’s to come. I hope we’ll see you on the farm to celebrate the (re)birth of Spring and these kids.
-Lisa
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