Everything but the hooves

I smell like goat. which by the way is just fine because they smell like the lovely cheese that they are famous for having a hand in making. It's been another LONG day. And it all started at about 7am this morning when I stepped out the front door to take Callie, our dog, on her morning walk. The goats are either usually perched expectantly at the door to their pen just waiting to be fed. Or, if for some reason their beauty sleep had gotten the best of them and I was up before they were, the second the door opened it was as if someone had cocked a loaded gun and both heads would SHOOT up in anticipation. But not this morning.

No, this morning was different. Story stood at attention at her usual post, however Eve was nowhere in site. This prompted an immediate red flag on a few different levels. First, we had closed off the adjoining gate between the first and second pen as to keep an eye on the "pregnancy" activities and the pens were not that big to begin with. Second, the only real place to "hide" was in the manger and from my vantage point, that looked Eve-less as well. I will admit a sickly feeling of panic slowly began to creep in. I made a bee-line for the pen.

And then I heard her. She made a noise that I simply just cannot describe but will try, a scream-grunt-gutteral growl? As I approached, I could just barely make out her outline on the other side of a self-inflicted nest/barricade of hay laying on her side, in the manger. I immediately dropped Callie's leash. I could tell from her body movements that she was straining. Heavily. With everything she had in her, she was pushing! Flustered a bit I knew that I had to stay calm. It was go time.

She looked so helpless. So confused. I had read that first time goat mommies have no idea that they are even pregnant. I was now SEEING that reality. She struggled, fidgeted, screamed (as goats do). I KNEW what I was looking for. Hooves and noses. Goats give birth much like we do, except hooves come out first followed by the snout and then the rest. But all I could see was what looked like a cloudy-water balloon. Finally. I could make out what appeared to be a nose (and a tongue) inside the "balloon", but where were the HOOVES!? Ok, I was panicking a bit, I'm not going to lie.  But I got a grip and wasn't about to let inexperience and procrastination allow me to lose another goat(s).

I called the vet's private cell and I unabashedly didn't even for a SECOND pause to consider the time. The vet sleepily answered and explained that she would have to "patch me through to blah blah blah..." MY GOAT IS BREACHED and you are giving me an answering service!? I thanked her and went back to it. Eve seemed in distress, even more than normal (as if I have any IDEA what NORMAL looked like) let's just call it "mother's intuition" she needed help and it was gonna have to be me.

I RACED inside and grabbed my husband's stash of medical gloves (he's good for that sorta stuff) raced back out and sure enough, she was still in the same situation she had been when I had left her side.  SO, I gloved up, and I swear I saw Story avert her eyes as I went "ALL IN". I found the hooves, lodged on either side as if it were chanting "hell no I wont go" and refusing to vacate the premises. And as gently as one can in this type of situation, I helped "guide" the little one safely out. And there it was, reality starring me in the face and "meeehing" if I've ever seen it. Eve grunted again, and before I could even change gloves, out came the twin. Unassisted THANK GOD.

Calm, clean and all settled in, Eve was now the proud momma of two adorable, healthy bucklings (baby boys). While, "Auntie Story", well that one's for another day...