About a week ago I received a call from my niece. The vet contacted her about a sickly baby goat someone had dropped off. Apparently a college girl found the baby in her yard.
The baby looked much like a mini Nubian and had an auction tag in its ear. Ugh. He was black, tan and white – my favorite color combination. The vet asked that we pick him up before closing or they would euthanize him. So my big brother who was visiting for Thanksgiving went to pick the baby up. It was an appropriate introduction to farm life for him, I think.
When he arrived with the baby in a blanket he placed him in my arms and the baby barely opened his eyes. The vet wormed had him and gave him antibiotics. There was dried diarrhea down the baby’s legs and his coat was soaked in urine. He was a bag of bones.
I cuddled him on the couch while we fed him fermented goat milk from a syringe. He was too weak for a bottle. He drank several syringes of the milk before we put him in a crate to sleep.
He woke me up crying throughout the night. Each time I would go to him and do what I could for him. He had lost control of his bladder so it was difficult to keep him dry. I had no hope he would make it through the night but I wanted him to be comfortable. I tried to fashion a makeshift diaper to help his keep him dry.
Somehow, by morning he seemed to perk up. He was able to hold his head up. I offered him hay and he immediately took to it. He drank his milk more readily. I had a glimmer of hope for his recovery.
As the morning went on he took me by surprise by exiting his crate and walking into the kitchen to find me….pooping solid poop the entire way. I quickly scooped him up and took him outside to finish his business. There he met Luca:
Luca has to meet new animals immediately so he knows they’re welcome here and under his protection. He was very sweet to the little one and seemed to know he was ill. I don’t let other animals come around a newbie until I know they are healthy and it’s safe to do so.
The baby goat didn’t seem phased by Luca. Most farm babies have big dogs around so this wasn’t too surprising.
The next few days had many highs and lows. One hour the baby was eating well with solid bowels and the next he was very weak. It was exhausting for both of us.
Two nights ago while I was doing the PM feeding I went bottle feed the baby and he couldn’t finish his bottle. He was extremely weak and had no strength to hold his head up anymore. I found myself, yet again this year, telling a baby it’s OK to let go. I tucked him in and stayed close watching to see any signs of movement from him. His breathing was fine and he seemed peaceful while he slept.
About 430 the next morning I awoke to Luca’s howling and every bird I have singing. Fearing a predator attack I rushed outside. It was well before dawn and yet every single chicken was singing, even the boys. Some from high in the trees, some from the coop. The turkeys were chirping from their treetop roosts as well. The geese were making their siren calls I so rarely hear and Luca was howling in unison with the other animals. This has never happened before. It was hauntingly beautiful and surreal. This went on for several minutes as I walked around checking all the pens and roosts to try and figure out the reason for this behavior. Then I came to the baby goat pen and there was silence. I bent down to get a better look at him and focus my eyes in the darkness. He was gone. I picked him up and cradled him. It’s so odd to hold the warm body of a life I tried so hard to save. I always hope they’re in a deep sleep. His body was limp but he was free.
I’m really tired of losing these battles. A blog post is no way to honor a life but I don’t know any other way.
