Birthing season is an exciting time on a farm. You never know what you’re going to get.

At Swan View Ranch, we’re always proud of our babies. But this year brought a special case.

At first, we didn’t know what to think. Truth be told, we were a little concerned.

Even a little scared.

We Thought We’d Seen Everything

We’ve been ranchers all our lives. We feel confident we can handle just about whatever comes along.

Things happen, after all. Sometimes does have trouble. We’ve helped birth babies that were breached, that had their heads bent around backwards, and that were particularly large for the birth canal.

We’ve stayed up all night helping babies breathe, and teaching them how to nurse. We administer shots when needed, and feed babies that aren’t getting enough milk.

This year didn’t seem any different, at first. Our does were having their babies, and they were beautiful.

We were particularly eager to see what Sophia, our herd matriarch, would deliver.

On New Year’s Eve, we were about to go down to the house when she let us know that she didn’t want us to leave.

It was time.

So we stayed, just to be sure everything would be all right. About an hour later, she had a great big beautiful buck. He was so strapping we had to call him Hercules (pictured above).

But then something else happened…something that’s never happened before, to us, at least.

And we weren’t sure what to do.

A Big (But Very Little) Surprise

With Hercules dry and warm, Sophia got ready for number two. Gerald and I kept an eye out from a distance while we checked on the other babies. When Sophia finished, we saw that she’d had a very small doe. Compared to Hercules, the little thing was miniscule!

Sophia’s tiny little girl.

There she lay nearly covered over in straw. I helped clean off her little nose so she could breathe, and since it was cold, stayed for awhile to be sure she got some milk in her tummy.

It was like lifting a washcloth up to mama’s udder, she was so tiny and light, but boy, was this girl determined. Once her belly was full, she snuggled up to her brother and went right to sleep.

What We Didn’t See

I urge you to take a look at Heidi’s picture again.

Go ahead.

Notice anything different about her?

Like us, you probably see her adorable face and her beautiful red ears. She’s just too cute for words.

Maybe you notice her soft white hair or her long eyelashes.

You probably didn’t realize there’s something very different about Heidi.

Beyond her small size.

I didn’t notice it until the second day, when I was again helping her to eat. She hadn’t been getting around as well as Hercules, but I thought it was because she was so small and needed time to build up her muscles.

Turns out she was facing something a lot more challenging than that.

Would Heidi Be Able to Survive?

You see, Heidi has only three legs.

Her left front leg is fine, but her right front leg is a partial—only about half as long as it should be—with the little hoof on the end of it.

If you look closely at that picture, you’ll see it.

It’s hard enough for a baby to stand up on four wobbly legs. Can you imagine only three?

I wasn’t sure what to do. Would this baby survive? How could she survive? Would she ever be able to get around on her own? Eat on her own?

I swallowed my concerns and added more heat lamps to the birthing pen to be sure she would stay warm. I shook some more straw into the pen, and continued to help her eat several times a day. I saw that she was trying to use her partial leg, but because it was so much shorter, she would fall just about every time she tried to put her weight on it.

If she was to survive, she would have to learn to get around without it.

I didn’t know if she could do that. I worried she might not make it once I had to let her and her family out into the barnyard.

I was afraid I was growing attached to something that I would soon end up losing.

What Disability? I Want to Go Play!

Have you seen the movie “Dolphin Tale?” In case you haven’t, it’s about a young dolphin who lost her tail in a crab trap. Her rescuers name her “Winter.” They do everything they can for her, but her health continues to deteriorate until experts are able to design a prosthetic that allows her to swim like a real dolphin for several hours a day.

Lovely story.

But there was no way we could afford to have a prosthetic made for Heidi, if there even was such a thing.

Thankfully, we didn’t have to.

Heidi had other things in mind.

Within a week, she could get around just fine, thank you very much, and she wanted to go out and play.

On January 15th,  I opened the gate to the birthing pen. My heart in my throat, I let Sophia, Hercules and Heidi out with all the other mamas and babies.

Heidi says “hi” to one of the other baby goats on her first day out.

I kept careful watch. I was afraid one of the other goats would hurt her, even accidentally.

So did Sophia, as you can see here. She seemed to know, instinctively, that Heidi was a little more fragile than most babies.

Sophia (right) keeps a watchful eye over her special little girl (in front of her, nosing the fence).

But Heidi surprised us all. In no time at all, she was zipping around the corral like any other baby goat.

I realized then that in her little mind, she was no different from them.

Why should she be?

Are Our Limitations Only in Our Minds?

Heidi may have had to work a little harder to remain upright, to balance when she walks, and to keep from falling when she stumbles on something.

She may get tired a little faster than the other goats, and have to plop down and rest more often.

She may find that jumping up on the cement blocks is really hard…much harder for her than it is for the other babies.

But none of that stops her, or even slows her down. She doesn’t even seem to think about it.

Apparently it’s only us humans who would define her as “disabled” or “physically handicapped.”

Heidi (front) playing with brother Hercules.

Watching Heidi, I couldn’t help but reflect on my own life.

How many times do we let what we think are our shortcomings hold us back?

How often do we focus too much on how we’re different from everyone else?

Are we giving up on something that’s important to us just because it’s hard, or a little more challenging for us than it seems to be for others?

Maybe we’re looking at things in all the wrong ways.

A little baby goat has reminded me that no matter what our limitations, we can do whatever we set our minds to.

It may take a little extra effort, but hey, if you want to play with the other kids…

you’d better get up and go.

Or, as the case may be, get up and hop.