The Wonder Goat.
Our morning started later than usual. The past few weeks we had been experiencing the first few signs of spring. Weather was pushing above zero, snow was beginning to melt, and little bits of greeny-brown grass was emerging amidst the white snow caps, but then, just as quickly as it began, it went. This morning we woke to snow and frigid temperatures, and we begrudgingly pulled our bodies out of our warm beds, into the cold.
Breakfast of course was also not ready on time. Seeing as how I know I am not a morning person in the winter, I get breakfast ready the night before. Then all we have to do is pop it in the oven while we have our coffee the morning of. But the weather had been so nice, my energy had been coming back, so I hadn’t bothered to prep the night before.
We finally got outside to start our chores an hour late. An hour that apparently mattered that morning.
As I walked into the barn, I heard the sound of a baby screaming, and I knew. I dropped what I was holding and ran for the goat pen. There was Dave cradling a baby goat in his arms. Two siblings were laying in the straw not far off. One was already still and lifeless. The other looked cold and listless. Mom was laying close by, but only sort of. Her interest seeming to have waned once the babies had made their appearance.
“I think it was just too cold,” Dave said holding the baby in his arms. “If only we had gotten here sooner.”
I couldn’t help but agree. Why did Mama birth this morning, out of all the mornings? And why did she leave her little ones to the cold instead of cuddling them close for warmth? And why when we tucked them into their pens last night with fresh food, straw and water had we not seen a single indication that she was going into labour that night? Had we just been too preoccupied?
“Let’s get them inside.”
Decision made, we both scooped up a baby goat and, wrapping them in our arms and jackets, quickly fast-walked to the house.
We grabbed a mobile heater and plugged it into our living room and huddled the babies in front of it. One of the little goats seemed to quickly come around, the other was looking worse by the minute. We wrapped it up, next to his sibling, and placed them next to the heater.
The next hour is a bit of a blur, of milking Satine of her colostrum, giving one of the goats a warm water bath to bring up his temperature and trying to feed them.
In the end, of the triplets, only one little goat survived. She was the only girl, and by far the runt of the three. But that little girl out stubborned the cold and the odds. She’s our kinda fighter.
Barely more than 3 pounds, our little girl, somehow, beat PEI winters and odds and made it into the world. We’ve all quickly fallen for this sweet little girl. Our Patience, the wonder goat.
