The Tale of the Super “Cat” Nanny (as Told by a Very Tired, Worn-Out Mama Goat)

Posted on February 21, 2011 by Mary

As any mom will tell you, kids can be tough. They tear all over the barnyard, they make all kinds of racket, they ignore all the rules, and table manners—don’t even get me started. I mean, do they have to slam their heads into that most tender part of your body every darned time they want a drink?

As if we don’t go through enough carrying three-to-four of them inside us for five months or more. I mean, these babies weigh at least ten pounds each. Have you ever carried that many squirming, writhing creatures in your belly? And my figure. Forget it. When I looked back, I saw my stomach poofing out on either side of my spine like dual air balloons. I felt like a DC-10. I could hardly walk, and then Clark, the billy, had to go and call me fat. Of all the nerve! All this was his fault in the first place. If I could have reached him I would have bunted him a good one, in a good place, if you know what I mean. He’s still got it coming one of these days…

Boy did I breathe a big sigh of relief when they finally came out. I thought I might be able to relax a little, you know, recuperate, maybe actually get a little sleep as there’s no way you can sleep when you roll around on the straw like a bloomin’ beach ball. But there’s all the licking and the cleaning and then trying to get them to eat. Some jump right up and get going, but others, well, you know how it is. Some of our little ones are just a little slower than the rest. What’s the politically correct term now? “Suckling-challenged,” I think.

Anyway, they finally settled down and I had just started drifting off when up they sprout and it’s “Mom, can we go play?” and “Mom, I’m hungry,” and “Mom, where’s Dad?” and “Mom, what’s over there? Can we go over there?”

Their father is no help, of course. He just stands over there in the goat pen and either eats or sleeps or gives me the eye and I’m like, “Oh, so you want this now, huh? Before I was fat! Well no way, honey. You just put it to rest for a few months…at least.”

I swear all of us moms were at the end of our ropes. All our kids came about the same time, and the barn was in chaos. Babies everywhere blatting and squawling, moms crying and running all over the place. So I said that’s it, and I called the Super Cat Nanny. You may have heard of her. She travels around helping moms like us deal with these little terrors. All I can say is thank the Supreme Mother she came. I don’t know how she does it, but she gathered those babies all together and put them to sleep and for several hours we didn’t hear a peep! Not a sound, not a complaint, not a bunt in the bag, and for the first time in weeks, we got a break.

Heavenly. Absolutely heavenly.

Poor Caroline has had it worse than the rest of us, as her little son Maximus has a hurt leg, but the Super Cat Nanny took her turn with him, too. Somehow she knew he needed some extra care, so she made her way into his pen, which was no easy feat, little thing that she is, and there she stayed with him for hours, watching over him so Caroline could get some sleep.

I have to say we’re all feeling a little better now, and the kids are settling in really well. We’re still working on the table manners, but gradually they’re coming around. I hear the Super Cat Nanny is staying with us indefinitely, which I have to say is a big relief. Raising kids is just too much for one mom to do all by herself, and I for one rest a lot easier knowing that she’s around.

If you’re having trouble in your barnyard, I invite you to write in. She’d be happy to give you some advice, but don’t think for a second that she’s going to leave here to come to you. She doesn’t drive, and though you’d never be able to tell, she’s getting up there a bit in years, and we wouldn’t want anything to happen to her.

Besides, we mamas know how to get hold of her tail if we need to.

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Spring Has Sprung at Swan View Ranch!

Posted on February 13, 2011 by Mary

Snow still covers the ground in much of the country, but at Swan View Ranch, spring has arrived!

Think you need warm temperatures for a spring state of mind? Not necessarily! How about 30-plus little kids running and jumping around the place? That’s what we have so far, and our moms aren’t finished yet.

So far we’ve had 13 does freshen with a total of 31 babies. We can’t believe the multiple births this year. Our ladies are really outdoing themselves! Tweedles, our top mama, held her position as herd mother by having four—the most yet. Several others have followed with three each, including Audra, daughter of Lexus, who gave birth to three beautiful does—Adelyne, Abby, and Amelia.

Gerald’s favorite—Christina—had two sweet does, Julia and Jennifer. You can see them here snuggling up together, but what we’re really tickled about is those long ears! We’re wondering if, with the aid of a long feather, they might be able to fly?

Meanwhile, while we’re excited, we’re exhausted! Tending to all these mamas is a lot of work. We’ve had a few babies that were born not quite ready for the world. We stayed up all night with one making sure he got the milk he needed, as he just couldn’t quite figure out the whole “eating” routine. For all the others, we’ve been busy shifting pens. The new ones go into pens by themselves where they can have a few days to adjust (and the benefit of the heat lamp), while the older ones go out into the barnyard where they can stretch their legs.

All these goats in all these pens means that we’re carrying buckets of water back and forth every day. It may feel like spring, but the overnight temperatures are still cold enough to freeze the water in most of the buckets, so we’ve been busy hammering out the ice and then refilling and restocking all the pens with water—every day! We’re also hauling hay from the stockyard into the barnyard so everyone gets fed. Boy will we be glad when they’re all strong enough to go back out onto the field! All the while we’re keeping a sharp eye on the expecting moms that haven’t yet birthed. Fortunately, we’re getting close—only five mamas left.

This is a special time, though, as we watch the young families bond with one another and see the little kids springing up from the ground like Pop Tarts. There’s nothing that can leap straight up in the air quite as well as a baby goat! Pop, pop, pop, they’re much more exciting to watch than any bowl of Rice Krispies. Some prefer snuggling in our laps to the rambunctious play, and for these we hold a special place in our hearts. No surprise that Tweedle’s babies are some of our favorite lap goats. (Gerald is holding Gwen and Grace in this picture.)

So while the storms continue to blow over our nation and the frost to gather on our windows, we know that it’s not long now before the flowers will be blooming and the birds chirping. Our little weather forecasters tell us everyday that the time for holing up in our caves is over—spring is here.

Let’s go play!

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Meditation Via Goat Crunch

Posted on January 31, 2011 by Mary

This weekend, the temperature was up in the 50s. Very warm for January, but we’re not complaining. In fact, we’ve taken advantage of the sunshine to spend a little more time up at the barn. At first we tended to the few things that needed to be done. Hay piled up. Pens secured. Grain bins filled. But then, as the list of chores dwindled, we just sat down for a minute to rest.

That minute turned into an hour.

The next day we did it again.

And the next.

There’s something special about taking the time to just be around a bunch of animals. For us, it’s the herd of goats and the queen of the barnyard, Miss Fluff Puff, our long-haired cat. (Check out the post before this one to learn more about her.) She takes full advantage of our presence by sitting on my lap the whole time. She’s never been much of a lap cat, but I guess her old age is mellowing her out. Now she purrs like an old 380 engine and is content to remain with us as long as we’re content to provide her a warm pillow to sit on.

The goats spend the time munching on hay. Their little teeth crunch crunch crunch on the dried strands and it sounds like a million tiny footsteps on miniature gravel stones until they snort. For some reason goats have to snort while they eat. It’s a quick exhale out the nose that sounds like an old man honking into a hanky. Crunch crunch crunch…snort!…crunch crunch…snort! Snort!

It may sound a bit strange, but this sound is peaceful to us. After a few minutes of just sitting quietly by, listening and watching them eat, we fall into a sort of relaxed meditative state, and all seems right with the world.

Some people have to cross their legs and hum a mantra to feel that sense of peace. Others light a candle and close their eyes. Still others go for a walk in the forest, or attend a special meditation class. We sit up at the barn, and listen to the goats crunch their food.

And snort.

Perhaps it has something to do with how animals can just live in the moment without having to think about it. Diving their noses into the hay, they crunch and snort and swallow to their heart’s content. They don’t care if they gain a few pounds. They’re not counting calories. They don’t care what the other goats think of their figures. They’re just fully enjoying the pleasure of eating a meal.

Or perhaps it’s the fact that animals have no fear, and no tension, unless there’s a real reason for it. We’re surrounded by calm heartbeats the entire time. If a truck or motorcycle comes driving down the ditchbank, the herd will head up and come to attention, but otherwise theirs is a carefree existence. No bills to pay. No cholesterol levels to worry about. No deadlines coming up.

They don’t even have digestive problems. Most of the time. Can you imagine?

Ah, life is good.

So we sit. And we watch. And we relax. And we learn.

It’s a joy just to eat. It’s a blessing just to be here.

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And the CAT Shall Lead Them?

Posted on January 20, 2011 by Mary

Living on a ranch, there are certain things one gets to enjoy that just don’t happen anywhere else. Watching the birth of a baby goat, horse, or cow is one of them. Observing the different personalities of chickens is another. (It’s true—they’re all very unique!)

A third is listening and watching our herd of goats come home to the barn. I’ve attached bells to the leaders, so the experience is both a visual and an auditory one. First you hear the bells ringing, distant little ding-a-dings that signal the beginning of the ritual. The bleats follow, varied in pitch and volume depending on the goat uttering them, until the land is alive with the chorus of “Here We Come, Do You Have Food?” sung by Kids to Nannys, a music group that’s all the rage here on the hill.

Then come the hoof beats, choppy rumblings over the ground that resemble the sound of an oncoming steady—but friendly—stampede. After that, it’s all visual as the wagging white tails and flopping red ears come into view around the corner. I peer over the fence and wonder—who’s leading them today? Is it Maria, my strong and sensible doe, or Christina, the young lady who knows she can get treats from Gerald if she looks at him just right? I know it’s not my top mama Tweedles, as she’s just getting too old to make hurrying a priority, so I’m guessing one of the younger ones, maybe Alice, who always loves to get a little extra attention before the others arrive.

But as they come into view I find myself squinting a little and moving my head back and forth. Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing? Are all my strong, healthy, boisterous goats being led by…a cat?

Her name is Miss Fluff Puff, and as she trots proudly into the barn ahead of all the goats, she lifts high her little cotton feet to avoid any stains on her pristine silver and snow-white coat, strutting like a Lipizzaner on her way to the arena. In she comes, leading them all, until she gets to the barn door, then she steps aside, taking her seat as prettily as she pleases to watch her fine followers take a drink from the water tank and go about begging us for treats.

“I’ve brought them safely home again,” she seems to say as she gazes at me. “All is well.”

I’ve spent my entire life around animals and never have I seen a cat like this. Not only does she lead the goats in from the field, she feels it’s her job to watch over them always. I’ve learned to refer to her for clues as to which doe is about to give birth, for she will tend to hang more closely with the mother just before it’s time, as if handing out encouragement. When the babies hit the ground, she spends the evenings with them, often curled up amidst triplets under the heat lamp like an attentive nanny. If one of the babies happens to paw at her or nibble on her fur, she corrects him with a quick slap on the face.

These goats are trained from a young age to respect Miss Fluff Puff.

She’s fourteen years old now, but so far we don’t see any signs of aging, and we’re glad. Sometimes when the babies pile up and the chores get long, we wish we had a little more help around the ranch. It can be tough to handle it all, just the two of us. But when I go to the barn I’m reminded—I’ve got the most loyal, fierce, and conscientious sentinel I could ask for. It’s just that she’s got four feet instead of two.

And a really snazzy fur coat.

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Dancing with the…Bucks?

Posted on December 2, 2010 by Mary

We just love watching Dancing with the Stars. How happy we were to see Jennifer Gray take the trophy this year after her challenging battle with injuries and her own emotional ups and downs. How gratifying to see someone fifty years old perform with such grace, agility and flexibility!

Today, we were surprised to realize that we have our own dancing stars—right in our own barnyard!

We had to move Carlo, our youngest buck, back in with the other boys. He’d had adequate time to perform his duties, and we wanted to let the ladies back out into the pasture. As you may know, catching a buck isn’t always the easiest task. We’ve raised Carlo from birth and he’s always been a sweetheart, but when you try to convince a young buck that he has to give up wining and dining the women to return to the bachelor pad, you’re bound to run into an argument.

We’re used to running around. We’re used to kicks, bites, and the occasional hoof strike. We’re not used to dancing.

Gerald maneuvered Carlo into a corner. The buck decided to make a mad dash for it, and reared up to jump past him. Gerald caught one of his legs. Carlo wasn’t too keen on that. Since he was already half in the air, Gerald took the other leg. Suddenly the two were locked in an embrace, the buck standing on his back legs, Gerald holding tight to his forefeet.

Shall we dance?

Gerald started to sing an old German polka. Then he backed up.

Carlo walked forward.

Gerald took a few more steps backward. Carlo stepped forward. Easy as you please. No argument. No fight. No head butts. No hoof strikes.

They danced the length of the barn. All the way from the main area to the bachelor’s pen, about 25 yards away. Carlo walked on two legs, holding tight to Gerald’s grip. Gerald moved backwards, singing away.

If I were Carrie Anne, I’d have given them a “10” and praised the fact that their feet didn’t come off the ground. I’d have said their form was great. Posture, perfect. They moved in rhythm to the music. They had a certain…chemistry. Carlo’s eyes never left Gerald’s. All the way until the music ended and he went to join the other boys, his golden eyes were trained on Gerald’s baby blues.

Bruno would have called Carlo a true romantic, and told him that he moved with the power and grace of Antonio Bandaras. As for Len? I’m not sure he would have liked how they got into the dance—too much of all that extra stuff—but once they got going? Even he would have had to admit: It was a show-stopper.

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Heat Lamps Are Up!

Posted on November 27, 2010 by Mary

Believe it or not, we got all the heat lamps up before it got too cold. It’s just not pleasant stringing wires and clipping lamps when the temperatures are below 25!

As you can see here, though, these heat lamps are indispensable on cold Colorado nights. Last year Christina and her two babies loved huddling down into their warm pen when the sun went down. Of course it didn’t hurt that we gave them some hay to munch on.

We have about 10 pens total ready to go, so we should be able to accommodate all the babies we have coming this winter. We split the barn into several smaller pens enclosed with wire panels covered in chicken wire. We didn’t used to do the chicken wire, but after seeing a few babies get their heads stuck in the panels, we learned our lesson! Now we line all the panels where the babies are going to be so we don’t have any more of those incidences!

Now all we have to do is wait. We brought a lot of our young moms in from the pasture a few weeks ago to be with the buck. They were disappointed at first, but have now adapted to life in the barn where they will spend the next little while. Chores have gotten a little harder with the cold as well, as now we have to drain the hoses after every use. Great exercise, but tough on the shoulders!

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