Last Week in Agriculture...

...was A VERY BAD WEEK.  A terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week.

I've learned an unbelievable amount in the area of goat husbandry in the past three weeks-primarily that I don't know a thing-and it's not even kidding season yet.

To make part of this long story short, I'll begin with a ridiculously long sentence to give you some background.

Though we thought the goats we bought were from "controlled herds," they are actually miscellaneous sale barn finds, each one bringing its own set of parasites and infectious diseases to the table to be shared generously with the others; each one stressed and slightly weakened by the craziness of their past several days or weeks of leaving their ranch, going through the sale process, moving to the place from where we bought them, and finally ending up here.

The big ones have been healthy (I'll knock on wood), but the smaller ones have been hit hard by:
-sore mouth
-respiratory issues
-scours
-pinkeye
-leg laceration
-anemia
-whip worms & strongyles
-one small abscess (which was actually really cool in a super disgusting way)
-DEATH

One of the smaller ones was sick for about a week and died last Thursday.  Wednesday evening I'd made plans to take her to the vet the next morning and when I checked on her before breakfast she was sternal with her head up.  I put on my goat-with-scours-loading-clothes with plans to change into my athleisure wear and hat (and wash my hands) after loading her but before heading to the vet and SK's school.

Picture this:  hair slicked back into a wad with a tight headband on, no makeup, old yellow and pink A&M tee, ripped wide leg jeans that were too big, and polka dot rain boots with my jeans puddled up on top since they couldn't fit inside.  Add the aroma of sick goat and you're practically standing beside me.

Now I'm generally not emotional (and like myself this way), but I let emotions cloud logic on this one and by emotions I mean she was suffering and there was some money at stake and I'd already made plans to take her to the vet the night before.

I got SK loaded, went to load the goat and it was obvious she'd taken a dramatic turn during breakfast and was on death's doorstep; no less than 3 hooves in the door.  I had no time to spare, so I forwent the outfit change and raced to the vet only to have him tell me what I already knew; it was too late and the best course of action would be to put her down.  Euthanasia is costly and per state law the animal must be buried afterward so scavengers do not ingest the drugged carcass.

I called Hots to have him meet me at home to put her down in a way that "is just as humane," according to the vet (& $33.50 cheaper) and headed to SK's school.

Something happened that has never occurred previously.  We were early.  There we were, waiting in the lobby of the school with several other parents for the doors to open; me in my goat wrangling attire, holding SK, worried about the dying goat in the back of my Tahoe.

One guy I know who has always been friendly responded with an awkward, "Hi, Barb," when we made eye contact and I spoke first.  Then one of my friends arrived and didn't even recognize me.  I thought about calling her name, but decided not to bring attention to myself, though it may have seemed obvious to anyone that laid eyes on me that day that I must have been trying to draw lots of attention to myself.

The happiest ending that could possibly happen in this grim & horrible set of circumstances did in that when I returned home I was able to call Hots and let him know his services were no longer needed; the little goat was suffering no more.

I was relieved for her, anxious about what had led to her demise, and terrified of what this could mean for the rest of the herd.  After all, we didn't have a definitive answer as to what had caused her death and after having treated her for numerous ailments over the past week, were not successful.

Luckily Hots stepped in with a logical approach and we grew up a little as goat ranchers, making a plan and executing it with the help of our veterinarian (with whom we'd met right after we bought the goats a couple of weeks earlier-more on that meeting later).

We're still relieved to find everyone alive and healthy each morning and are not sure when we'll relax and not assume they'll all get sick and drop dead over the course of one day, but they seem to be doing well for now and I think we're getting a handle on things.

One of the guys at the feed store assured me that this gamut of many goat sicknesses-and even losing one-is completely normal considering from whence they came and that we should be able to get them "straightened out" pretty soon.

I asked our local ag extension agent a couple of weeks ago if it is normal to have several sick goats.  His response, "Well, they're not dead..."

I can't help but think that if we'd chosen to pursue a wildlife exemption instead of an agricultural exemption we'd be filling our one feeder every other week, spending the days in between relaxing on our deck with a sweet tea in hand making a tally mark for each deer that walked by.  Or maybe we'd have gone the ornithology route and set out a bird bath or two for the highly endangered whatever whatever warbler.

Hindsight is 20/20 and I will say we're more determined than ever to make a go of this and we are still really enjoying the goats and they sure are cute!  Much cuter than deer and any type of warbler.  :)