And Then There Were Goats... (Part II)

If you're short of trouble, take a goat.

~Finnish proverb

When we brought Elinor and Marianne home, we placed them in the pasture and expected them to start eating the vast variety of yummy weeds and shrubs and grasses thriving there. (Goats are browsers, preferring a sampling of many things rather than the focused grazing on grass of cows or sheep.) But they just stood at the fence and Meh-ed at us for days. And days. Since their previous owner did not have pasture for them, they were kept in a small pen and fed oats. We continued to do this for a few days but then decided we needed to starve them out and force them to browse. Even then, they mostly just stood at the fence, keeping a watchful eye for one of us to step outside so they could cry at us. They were pathetic. 

Every evening we would let them out with us and they were our shadows. (Actually Elinor was our shadow and Marianne was Elinor's shadow.) We strolled up and down our long gravel driveway while they nibbled on blackberry bushes and dried leaves, never leaving our side. If we had to step inside for a moment, this would be the view from inside (accompanied by very sad crying): 

Feeding a goat is not as straight forward as other livestock. They need a mix of hay (second or third cutting alfalfa), goat-specific mineral supplement, and grain. Plus, they are subject to various ailments like bloat, which occurs if they eat wet grass, kidney stones, and lactic acidosis (grain overload) if their rumen PH falls below 5.5. (I'm not sure I even know what that means.) Plus, many common plants are toxic to them, including rhododendron and laurel (we have both) and tomato plants (which I totally would have thrown to them at the end of growing season, if I had not read this). All of this was stressing me out the first couple of weeks. Finally, we bought some Purina Goat Chow, which I'm sure is junk, but at least won't kill them immediately, and we are purchasing some second cutting alfalfa for the winter.  

They are definitely more comfortable now and venture out into the larger pastures to nibble on goodies, but still prefer to be fed (and if it comes directly from our hands, all the better.) They are more like dogs than farm animals, which took some getting used to, since we already have two dogs and I wasn't really in the market for more. 

Yes, that's Elinor giving me a kiss.

I have grown to love these creatures, but they are a handful. They used to gladly follow us back to the pasture when their time out with us was finished. Now, they're too smart for that and I have literally had to drag Elinor the LONG distance down to the pasture while she dropped to her knees like a toddler who doesn't want to go where she is being led. They force their way through the small chicken door into the coop (actually breaking it) and devour chicken feed (which can also be toxic to them). They mysteriously appear places with no indication of how they got in or out. They truly are endearing though. And they just want to be with us. Is that so wrong?

People ask us why we bought them. Are they working goats? Are they pets? We thought they would work on our weed and blackberry and poison oak problem, but they are so finicky and so small that they could eat every hour for the rest of their lives and really not make a dent. We would like to breed Elinor this fall or spring and sell some kids. (Shock of shocks: Caleb said he would like to keep one of the kids. I'm including that information here because after something is written on a blog, it's irrevocable, right?) After breeding, Elinor will be in milk. I really would like to try milking her, but it is a huge commitment, as goats have to be milked twice a day, at 12 hours intervals. After gushing extensively about how convenient it was to spend a little more money and purchase the pre-sliced Tillamook cheddar from Costco, my dear husband gently suggested that maybe my zeal for pre-sliced cheese indicates that I am not quite ready to tackle home dairy. Touche. So let's face it, they are pets, and we are okay with that.

And Then There Were Goats.... (Part I)

If you're short of trouble, take a goat.

~Finnish proverb

My whole life I have had the inexplicable desire for a goat. I don't know why, except that they are awfully cute and I have heard, are brighter and more like pets than other farm animals. So when we moved to our little homestead property, I promptly purchased The Backyard Goat: An Introductory Guide to Keeping Productive Pet Goats. There are so many breeds of goats and each with their own distinct purpose, from meat to dairy to fiber to transportation (pack goats), that I wasn't really sure what breed would best suit us. But I did discover almost immediately that we did not want a buck (an un-altered male). 

"Though regal and often affectionate to a fault, 

bucks have bizarre habits that make them 

unsuitable for most applications...
Bucks don't make good pets or working goats. "
pg 15

To expand on this, a buck considers female humans part of their herd and courts them, challenging human males for leadership. Although it has been a long time since I've been courted, it hasn't been long enough for me to find a goat's courtship flattering. And while under most circumstances I would enjoy seeing Caleb defend my honor, I would hate to see him battered by a 200 pound, love-struck, horned goat. Believe it or not, that was the least offensive behavior described. I won't go into detail, but bucks are a little obsessed with their private parts and find many unseemly ways to express this. I'm all for home education on the farm, but at this point there are some places I'd just rather not go with my young children. 

In all honesty, after reading The Backyard Goat cover-to-cover, I cooled on my goat plan a bit. They seemed (even aside from bucks), perhaps, more high maintenance than we were up for, and we were busy with baby chicks and cows about to give birth and planting a large garden, etc. I shelved the idea for several months. And then after our calves were safely delivered, I breathed a sigh of relief... and I got a bee in my bonnet: I wanted a goat!! I searched Craigslist everyday. I read blog articles and informational websites to discover a breed that would be suitable for our family. I settled on the Nigerian Dwarf breed for a few reasons. First, they are completely adorable. Second, their smaller stature make them easier to manage and less expensive to feed. Third, if I ever want to pursue my dream of a home dairy, Nigerians are the ideal choice. Fourth, they can be bred anytime of year and usually birth 3-4 kids which can be sold for at least a couple hundred dollars each.  

I found a lady on Craigslist about 20 minutes from us, selling off a large assortment of Nigerian Dwarf wethers (castrated males), doelings (females who have not been bred) and kids. For about three weeks I watched her change her CL ad to reflect her dwindling inventory. By the time Caleb consented (over a peaceful Friday night dinner and glass of wine, sans children) and we landed at her farm the next day, she only had one kid and a few doelings to choose from. She informed us that it really was not an option to only take one because they are herd creatures and absolutely need companionship. Cows can occasionally stand in, but really, they need another goat. We decided to take her one remaining kid, a scrumptious 3-month old black and white female with blue eyes (we paid a premium for this trait, as it is supposedly quite desirable) and a beautiful auburn and white year-old doeling. We opted to pay extra to have them papered so that if we decide to breed them, we can in-turn charge more for the kids because we have proof of their purebred blood lines. So without further ado, let me introduce you to Elinor and Marianne (named after the Dashwood sisters in Sense and Sensibility):   

How much cuteness can one picture hold???

We really did not prepare for them in advance. Their owner fed them oats twice a day so I scrounged up some breakfast oats from my pantry. We boarded them in a barn stall. As we looked around for a water container, we noticed a bucket attached to the wall. This property was a goat farm, and not just a regular goat farm, but a dwarf goat farm, so we are actually totally set up for dwarf goats in ways that we did not even realize. The barn has little doors cut into the stalls to allow goats to come and go freely. Each stall has water and feeding troughs at just the proper height for dwarf goats. The fencing around our 3 acres of pasture is specifically designed to keep small (naughty) goats in. This is what we were designed for!  

To be continued...

  

They Were Pregnant!

You may remember a few months back there was considerable speculation about the reproductive state of our cows. Well, let me end the suspense:

We actually found out before the calves showed up in our pasture that they were, indeed, pregnant. A couple of months ago I spoke with my very knowledgable neighbor (owner of the bull who fathered these adorable babes) and asked if she really thought the cows were pregnant. She said unequivocally, YES! She said she had not seen the cows exhibiting any "in heat" behaviors since the bull was in pasture with them. When I pressed her on what those behaviors would look like, she said, for example, they hadn't been mounting each other. (Really? Female animals do that??) She said to definitely proceed on the assumption that they are pregnant. And the closer we got to D-Day, they were obviously much larger and their udders began to fill with milk. 

Being the newbies that we are, we also had a country vet come out to check them out and make sure everything was in order. (I was disappointed that he was nothing like James Herriott. I suppose a Scottish accent coming from Dallas, Oregon was a bit much to expect.) He told us that cows should labor no longer than four hours and push for no longer than 20 minutes. After 20 minutes, we need to call him immediately.     

Every day in June we eagerly watched the pastures for signs of new life and then the morning of June 24th I stepped out to this sight:

Baby Boy#1 was still wet and Mom #1 (Stripe) was cleaning him up. I think he was probably born an hour or so before I saw him. We were all very excited! 

Caleb giving the calf his vaccinations

That very same afternoon I was fairly certain that Mom #2 (Splotch) was in labor. She was pacing around endlessly and not eating, her whole body contracted every so often, and her tail was sticking straight out. About 9:00 in the evening we were all working in the garden when Britton happened to walk by the pasture she was in. He yelled, "I see a snout coming out!" We sprinted over and were all able to witness Baby Boy #2 being born. It only took about five minutes and Splotch did not moo or appear distressed or in pain. We moved down into the pasture and stood right next to them for about twenty minutes, watching Mom clean him up as he kept trying (and failing) to stand on his wobbly newborn legs. I'll tell you, peering over that fence on a warm summer evening with my children and husband, watching our cow give birth was an extremely special moment, a gift from God, and brought tears to my eyes. I'll never forget it. We have no pictures because we were too busy actually witnessing it. But here is a picture of them later:     

Britton immediately named them Goggles and Mask ("named" as a way to distinguish them from one another, not to make pets of them - or so we keep telling ourselves). Goggles is the most beautiful deep mahogany red color. My neighbor said he looks just like his grandfather, who they also owned. The boys have such fun playing together, running around the pasture and butting heads. 

A few days after our little bulls were born, our neighbors came over and helped Caleb band them (i.e. change them from "bulls" to "steer"). It seemed in poor taste to photograph the event so my words will have to suffice. As a thank you I gave our neighbors several pounds of freshly picked marionberries. It seemed a quaint, country thing to do: trade two bull castrations for garden produce (though I'm sure the bulls steer think they got the short end of the trade).          

The calves are a little skittish with us (perhaps because of the above-referenced "banding" experience) but the kids have gotten to pet them quite a bit. 

Britton recently told me, "I don't ever want to be a 'city-slicker' again!" As proof he wrote the following song (printed with permission):

Living in the Country

a song by Britton

I moved to the country when I was 9

And I admit it was really fine!

The grass was green. Really green.

Greener than I had ever seen!

There were many trees. Lots of trees!

And we're thinking about raising honey bees!

Chorus:

I'm livin' in the country! Me and my family

Living! Living! Living in the country! Country! Country!

Come on down! Come on down! Come on down!

Come on down and visit me-e-e!

I moved to the country and got a cat

I'm so happy, gonna get a heart attack!

Chorus

Oh yeah-a-a! Oh yeah-a-a!

I'm living in the country

Chorus

There is hard work!

You get into the dirt!

But don't let that discourage you!

Don't say boo hoo hoo!

It's really worth it yeah!

Chorus

I'M LIVING IN THE COUNTRY!

WOO!

The number of exclamation points alone should tell you how excited we are to be out here in the country and should make you want to come out here too!!!

Chicken Love

Surprises
A few things I did not know or expect about chickens:

* They are garbage disposals. I have a perpetual "Chicken Scrap" bowl on my kitchen counter and into it goes everything: apple cores, carrot shavings, banana peels, meat scraps, pasta, etc. (Britton has requested that I do not include pieces of chicken so as not to make cannibals of them. I may or may not sneak some in occasionally.)  While my compost bin is now suffering (it's pretty much all egg shells, coffee grounds, citrus peels and napkins now), turning our garbage into future eggs somehow feels more satisfying than turning it into future dirt. Plus, it lessens our chicken feed bill.
* Chickens put themselves to bed each night. When we go out to close them up as the sun is setting, we invariably find them all tucked in on their roost. (Roosting = one of the many chicken idioms in the English language). If we go out too early in the evening, they are not yet ready for bed and are still out in the pasture. Their internal clocks instruct them on what to do. Wonderfully designed creatures!
* I love watching the chickens. They cluck and peck and chase each other around and just do their chicken-thing like God designed them to. They delight me. If chaos reigns in the house or if a rare moment when all my children are peaceably occupied occurs, I might slip out and find my own moment of peace at the chicken pasture fence. They are mesmerizing. Caleb describes it as similar to watching a campfire - you can stare endlessly. 

The Cast of Characters
Have you ever tried to photograph chickens? Its not as easy as it might sound. I was trying to get a picture of each pair of the same breed, but they are in constant motion and kept photo-bombing each other. I spent way too much time crouched down in the chicken pasture, being swarmed by chickens hoping for kitchen scraps (which I usually have), having my toes pecked at. These were the best I could do. Since our family loves books, each girl is named for a literary character (and I use the term "literary" loosely, as we are talking about everything from true literature to books my three year-old enjoys and everything in between).

Our most beautiful breed (in my opinion), the Gold-Laced Wyandotte. We have two, "The Janes" - Jane Austen and Jane Eyre. 

Our two Gold Sex-Link, Anne Shirley (the red-head, obviously) and Golden Miranda (so named for the perfectly sweet character in the Humphrey the Hamster series). Gold Sex-Link are a cross between Rhode Island Red and Rhode Island White. They are called Sex-Link because a chick's gender is distinguishable at birth based on its color. Very handy when you want to ensure you are getting an egg-layer!

We have two of these Black Sex-Link, Diana Barry (Anne Shirley's raven-haired bosom friend) and Cuddles. Cuddles was more aptly named when she was two-days old and was a little ball of fluff. I wouldn't recommend cuddling her now. Black Sex-Link are a cross between Rhode Island Red and Barred Rock. Again, the males and females are distinguishable at birth by their markings. Their back feathers shine a deep green in the sun and they are gorgeous!

Silver-Laced Wyandottes, Annabeth (from Percy Jackson series) and Bethany (from the Erec Rex series)

We have two Barred (or Plymouth) Rock, Violet (from the Boxcar Children) and Little Lavender (from both Anne of Green Gables and Harry Potter books). As a chick, I thought for sure Little Lavender wouldn't make it. She was half the size of the others and just layed under the heat lamp all by herself when the others were off exploring. She appeared sickly and small, but she rallied and is now as large and ornery as the rest of them. 

Daisy and Hermione

These girls are our mavericks. Daisy (from the Biscuit books) is a California White Leghorn. This breed represents 90% of commercial chickens. They lay between 300-350 eggs a year - more than any other breed. Do you buy white eggs from the store? They are almost certainly from a California Leghorn. I have found Daisy covered in blood no less than seven times. We have been at a loss to figure out how she is cutting herself. At 4 pounds, she is much lighter than the others and can squeeze places she shouldn't. She can also take flight and will perch on top of the fence. I finally realized that the back half of the fence is topped by barbed wire and that is most likely where she is getting her pokes and cuts. Since she apparently is not learning from her mis-adventures, I suppose we will need to take the barbed wire down. 

Britton with Anne Shirley, who does not
mind being held

Hermione (from Harry Potter) is an Ameracauna. She has the look of a hawk or falcon with tufts of feathers around her face and a thick neck. She was my novelty pick because she is not a heavy layer, but she lays green eggs. I couldn't resist. She is skittish and Britton laments that she is the only chicken he has not been able to pick up and hold. The other day I challenged him to a little competition to see who could catch her first. We ran around the chicken pasture for a good while (which did not assuage her fear of us, I'm sure). Alas, Hermione was the winner on that one. She remains unheld. 

I can't have a section called "Cast of Characters" and not put in a picture of these four:

Never a dull moment around here!

The Hen House

Our plan has always been to get chickens, but knowing nothing, we spent the winter months carefully researching and planning. There seemed so much to know that it often felt overwhelming, but I kept telling myself that people all over the world keep chickens (and have for thousands of years), so we should be able to figure this out. I highly recommend, Keeping Chickens by Ashley English. It is a simply laid out book with beautiful photography. (A high picture-to-print ratio makes any subject seem less daunting.) And like most things, once you begin actually doing, and you have a framework of understanding to hang your knowledge from, things begin making sense.

Wilco farm store in Stayton receives chicks every Thursday and put out a calendar of which breeds they would be receiving when. We researched the breeds and made our decision based on the amount of eggs they lay (we want heavy layers) as well as if they are good meat birds (called dual-purpose). People seem surprised (i.e. masking horror) when I say this. A hen's laying decreases significantly after 2-3 years, and there comes a time when the cost of feed will be greater than her production. Currently, there is an urban-area epidemic of people who jumped on the chicken bandwagon and then, when the eggs run out, abandon their chickens to animal shelters or "release" them to roam free. This is not humane. Culling a hen who has served her purpose (after a very wonderful chicken life, as our girls undoubtably will have) and using her to feed our family, fully utilizes the blessing of what God has provided for us. (Of course, I am saying this very theoretically and have not yet spent three years gathering eggs from a chicken that I am fond of. We will see if I can follow through.)

We have already had a family chicken-butchering experience so we are not completely foreign to the process. One Saturday morning last May, several families came together to butcher 75 meat chickens.  We came home with seven for our freezer, although we ate one that very night - Best. Chicken. Ever. (I was on break from blogging at the time so here are a few pictures to commemorate the event.)

My dear husband who was tasked (along
with our friend Steve, also in the picture)
of slitting the throats of 75 chickens.

Britton and his best friend Elise carrying
a chicken to the gallows.

Caleb helping Elisabeth dip a chicken in hot
water before sending it to the de-featherer.

I valued this experience because all of us (most-assuredly myself) became more comfortable with the natural process of raising animals for the specific purpose of consumption. My kids learned that the meat we eat does not originate in the refrigerated aisle of the supermarket. And above all, we came home with delicious, humanely-raised, nutritious meat. Now that's Home Education, folks! But I digress and jump ahead all at the same time! Let's get back to baby chicks.

Getting Started

Our first batch of chicks
(Sadly, one of the yellow ones didn't make it.)

We purchased eight, day-old chicks and after one died, went back the next week for five more, (I thought we should have a few spares) for a total of twelve. We have seven different breeds because we wanted to experiment with traits and temperaments. On the way home from Wilco, Elisabeth said with enthusiasm, "We're real farmers now!" And it does feel a bit more like that.

The only supplies we needed were a heat lamp, bedding material, a waterer and feed container, plus the feed. One of the nice things about this property is we have lots of rooms, buildings, and spaces. One could take up any number of hobbies or activities and dedicate a room to it. The "chick room" as we now call it, is a room in our shop that was used for grooming goats, back when this property was a Pygora Goat farm. It happened to have a large enclosed pen which we built a small box within. As they grew, we simply took down the small pen and let them roam the whole larger one.

Six-week old chicks (Notice their little "beginner" roost.)

We knew that at about 10-12 weeks they would be ready for "The Big House", so Caleb spent the next two months designing and building the coop.






The Coop

The storage shed

Our property had a rather large storage shed  that backs up to a small section of pasture. Caleb had the (brilliant) vision to retrofit it as a chicken coop with an enclosed run off the back and then free-range access from there into the pasture. It is luxuriously large for twelve chickens, but it was what we already had, so we used it, and now have room to expand our flock, if we ever desire to. 
What a coop must include:

 * a roost because like most birds, chickens feel most secure when they are sleeping up off the ground. 
* nesting boxes for laying eggs; one box per four chickens, so we built three, but have room to expand, if needed.
*food and water system
*ventilation: Caleb bought two old wood windows and a charming screen door from the Habitat for Humanity thrift store. He added the windows to each end of the coop for airflow, with chicken wire behind them to keep predators out.
* An easily cleanable floor: we installed linoleum with a very thick layer of bedding material over it. When we change the bedding we can give the floor a hose-down with water and bleach. 

Caleb and his brother Mark building the
new doorway and nesting boxes

     ELAPSED TIME: 2 MONTHS

Getting the coop ready for move-in day

Our juvenile girls in their new digs

  

Here is a view looking into the coop after entering through the door: We can retrieve eggs from the nesting boxes without having to fully go in. We also store the chicken feed and other tools on this side of the coop. You can see the pipe feeding system Caleb designed and the door for them to go outside. We close them up each night.

I wanted to wait and publish this post after we had painted the coop and made it really cute, but I know my six readers have been anxious for a chicken update (haha), and truthfully, who knows when that coop will be beautified, so here it is in all its "doctor-scrub-green" glory. These girls have the best chicken-life imaginable. They really do. I am so impressed with my husband who designed and built the entire thing himself. And any day now we should be cracking open our first home-grown egg...