The True Vyne

It's like watching the proverbial pot boil, and I have yet to see a bubble. Ginger the goat has not kidded even though her udder has been full for four days. I'm checking on her every few hours, and she's simply hanging out, chomping her hay, and keeping that unimpressed "Oh, it's you again" look in her eyes.


However, this morning when I stopped by the goat field, something was different. Ginger started being contrary- like the time we thought she had rabies but really she was just angry that Peace was milking her instead of Buck. That naughty-goat-not-rabies experience only cost $100 for a two night stay in cushy stall at UT Vet Hospital. Today when I walked in the gate, Ginger assaulted me. I thought she was trying to bite me, so I pushed her away as hard as I could. Nice. Pushing a pregnant goat and shouting, "Hey, what DO you think you are doing?" Then I realized, changes in behavior mark progression in the birth process. At first, I tried to stay a few feet away, but she couldn't get close enough to me. She pressed her moist nostril to my arm and sniffed, and sniffed, and sniffed. Just when I thought she was going to try and bite me (goats without rabies do NOT bite, but I've already told you she's contrary), she licked me wildly. Oh yeah, I remembered, Fiasco Farms website warned goats in labor might try to lick. From the website, I had in my mind's eye, a sweet gentle tongue bath, but Ginger's technique bordered on violent.

Buck and I tried to settle her in the kidding stall we set up in the garage, but it stressed her out too much. She's back in the nasty ole goat shed, pawing the ground and taking turns standing and laying back down. It's getting closer.

I'm carrying around embroidery thread in my pocket to tie off umbilical cords. Kid already, Ginger!