If you haven't read my blog recently, then you don't know that we have a new little goat on the farm.
Meet Pixie. This is her with her mom, Gold. Her daddy is Tinkerbell. She was born 3 days ago.
She is such a good mommy! But at first she wasn't, here is their story.
Okay, it's a normal day. Just going to drop my Grandma at the airport so she can go to Arizona. I go out to give to goats their food and fresh water. I didn't even notice her at first, I just took the door off, and gave them their food. I stood there watching them eat as I like to do. And thought to myself, does Gold look a little skinny? I looked closer and thought, "Huh, she has blood on her." It didn't even register in my mind that she could have had a baby. Picture me hearing the high, keening cry of a newborn baby goat who's hungry. I turned around and saw her in the corner, trying to stand up and get by her mommy. I thought, " Huh, there's a baby goat, guess I'm not going to the airport." Then, "AHG! A baby goat!!!" I scooped her up and ran for the house. The standard protocol for finding a baby goat, is as follows: Either screaming so loudly everyone hears you in the house and knows that there is a baby goat, or screaming not quite as loud the whole time you're running to the house, so that when they finally hear you, you're already half way there, and all they have to do is open the door. I did neither. I just ran into the house and screeched, "YOU GUYS!" I put her in the sink and started drying her off. The whole time I'm yelling orders at all the other kids, "Marn! Go get straw to put in the basement for them, Sal, get Gold and bring her in here! Kid! More towels!" Of course, between all that, I was cooing and talking to Pixie. We didn't know what we were going to name her at that point. Her mommy was freaked out by the basement and the fact that a little goat kid had just come out of her. It could have been the cat's for all she cared. She didn't lick or nurse or love her baby. We had to hold her still, so Pixie could nurse. She has a wonderful instinct to nurse, I don't think she would have even have taken a bottle. Then, last night, she started to nurse and lick her like the mothering switch had just been switched to on inside her head. Now, she gets up whenever Pixie does, so if she wants to nurse she can. I'm writing this with Pixie on my lap. I should probably go downstairs and give her back to her mother.
For more Alphabe-Thursday "P" posts, go visit Jenny Matlock.