It was then that I found myself crouched down in the manure-laden bedding that covered the floor of my barn. I had given up any semblance of caring about keeping my clothes clean about six hours before, when, soaking wet and screaming, two baby goats had emerged from their mother only to be enfolded in the womb of my jacket and spirited away at a (relatively) fast pace a hundred yards across ice and hard-packed snowbanks to my kitchen sink. It was eight degrees Fahrenheit, with a brisk north wind—it was 1:30 in the morning.
When temperatures get that low and you don’t have a heated barn, you need to take action immediately. Your best bet for keeping a baby goat alive or reviving one that has been on the ground for a while is to get their body temperature up with a nice warm bath. After a few minutes, they will (usually) perk right up. Of course, you need to keep them from drowning and also try to prevent them from drinking the water. A thirsty baby goat will learn how to walk and try to get to its mother’s udders within a few minutes. It’s a remarkable thing to see. This also means that they might get ambitious, if left in your sink unattended, and walk right off the edge of your counter.
Once they’ve perked up, I like to swaddle them like a baby with a towel and rub them down to get them dried off a bit. I then put them in a box sitting on a warming pad and use a blow dryer to get their fur completely dry. After that, it’s right back to the mother in her pen, because your second best bet for keeping a baby goat alive is to get them drinking colostrum and milk from their mother as soon as possible. This gets their metabolism going and starts them on the path of being able to produce their own body heat. If she possesses good mothering instincts, she will lick and clean them; she will nuzzle and gently encourage them to get up and drink; she will sometimes push them in the general direction of her udders with her hooves; she will talk to them about the meaning of life and read them bed time stories. If she doesn’t have good mothering instincts and pushes or kicks them away from her teats, it’s a whole other story. Let’s just say, things get more complicated. Perhaps that will be the topic of a later post.
I have a small herd of Boer and mixed-breed goats. Or, rather, I should say, I have herd of goats that just doubled in size, from 15 to 30+, in the span of about a week. I chose to raise goats when we moved onto our acreage because we have about four acres of pasture that needed tending, and I have a lot of happy childhood memories involving goats. My dad kept milk goats, when I was growing up. He awoke early every morning to hand milk a couple of big white Saanens. I don’t even remember drinking cow’s milk in those days (though I may not have known the difference) until I started kindergarten. In choosing Boer goats, a breed raised for meat, I knew I didn’t want to get into the dairy goat business. Aside from thinking about the sacrifices my father made for our nutritional upbringing, in high school I worked on a dairy farm and understand well the commitment one must make to keep an animal lactating. I had no interest in being tied down anymore than I already was, and I’m not much of a milk drinker anyway.
As luck would have it, I discovered that my neighbors a couple of miles due west of my farm, had a large herd of high-quality Boers. I visited them and bought a couple of economy-class does and that was the beginning of my herd. If you have an interest in getting into the business or just want to have a couple of goats around to beller at you when you get home from work, check out Sweet Creek Boer Goats. They are great people and have always been very helpful to me in my goat keeping journey.
There is something special about those who choose to raise goats. In ancient times, goats were often considered to be unholy or evil creatures. Maybe it’s the eyes? Maybe it’s the mischievousness? Maybe people just didn’t take the time to get to know them? Even in the stressful weeks around kidding season, when I find myself sleep-deprived and deliriously cursing all things goat, I know that in the end I will come out of it a better person. Probably not a richer person, though. I’ll be lucky to break even, monetarily speaking. Feed and hay prices are very high due to the drought and I’ve had a lot of out-of-pocket expenses associated with expanding the infrastructure (pens, feeders, heat lamps, water buckets, water warmers, etc.) to meet the growing demands of my growing herd.
The sheep farmer who owned our acreage before us told me last week, “you have to spend money to make money.” I tried to explain to him that I don’t have any money to spend and that all the money I don’t spend on bills goes to paying off debt. I told him I was trying (and mostly failing) to avoid living beyond my means. He asked me how that philosophy was going to get me a tractor right now when I need it to move hay bales and plow my driveway? It’s a fair point. And it’s a point I was considering in my mind heavily that night, crouched on the floor of my barn, trying to encourage a baby goat to get up and find its way to the pendulous hanging mammaries of its exhausted, but content, mother.
At what point does a hobby become a business? I’m not sure that it has to do with profit, but more to do with intention. And I intend to sell as many of these new babies as possible this spring and summer!
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