This is the true continuing saga of my escape from California. While California is a beautiful, unique place, it is wrought with political turmoil, over-taxation and ridiculous laws. We want to be free.
So we have arranged to move to the lovely Oregon Coast area. And build and run an antique store. To enjoy life in a leisurely fashion.
This is my story.
For best chronological results, read the oldest entries first.
So we have arranged to move to the lovely Oregon Coast area. And build and run an antique store. To enjoy life in a leisurely fashion.
This is my story.
For best chronological results, read the oldest entries first.
An Afternoon Miracle and a Tragedy
Posted 02-04-2009 at 10:53 PM by DezertGirl
My afternoon was exciting, both in a good way and in a tragic way.
"Time to feed!" My guy reminded me of the obvious. It was sunset and time to care for our managerie.
"OK, be right there." I had to wrap up an eBay listing.
I walked outside and tended our dumb chickens, changing their water and feeding them their scratch. I also threw them a few apples from the huge supply our neighbors so graciously donated.
The meat and dairy goats were next. They screamed in good-humored impatience as I chucked in their hay, scarfing noisily while butting each other and jockeying for position around the pile of alfalfa.
My better half had released the hound, Diamond, our purebred black German Shepherd, from her kennel and she came barreling around a shed to meet and greet me.
"Go Dummy Dog!", I said to her, "Run away!" She took off, galloping at full speed, enjoying this fun time of day.
After preparing horse and more goat food, all three of us walked towards the Angora goats and horses. After feeding them, we lazily made our way back and observed one Angora doe that wasn't eating. Very unusual, as they love their food. We stepped closer for a better look.
There was a tiny head emerging from her hind end.
"Oh no! She's got a little one and it's in big trouble!", I cried.
I dashed into the pen and up to the doe, who placidly let me approach and check her out. Sure enough, the kid was dead and the doe was unable to expel it. The kid was folded incorrectly for birth and had died while the doe tried to push it out.
"Call Pauline!", I instructed my guy. She was a horse breeder and I knew she had seen this type of problem before in mares. This was way over my head to tend to. We have a problem in our area getting vets to come out, and most of us rancher-types have certain vet skills that we share with others in the community.
I tried to comfort the doe. I knew she was in a great deal of pain. I also knew that one kid might be dead, but there could be another inside waiting to be born. She hummed and rested her head on my leg, grateful for the human attention and comfort.
Pauline came quickly and another of our friends arrived as soon as they could. Another neighbor brought a tetnus vaccine and iodine. Pauline brought her rubber gloves.
She had us hold the doe and she went to work. There was another kid! It was trying to come out alongside the dead one! If we pushed it back in to remove the dead kid, it would suffocate. Pauline deftly worked out the two front feet of the dead baby and pulled gently. It slid out. Whew! The live kid came out with no trouble, opening it's tiny eyes to the glare of a flashlight. The doe sighed with relief as we let her get up and tend to her baby. She would be a good mother.
One tragedy. One miracle. Neighbors and friends coming together in a time of crisis. This is how we are in the rural places.
"Time to feed!" My guy reminded me of the obvious. It was sunset and time to care for our managerie.
"OK, be right there." I had to wrap up an eBay listing.
I walked outside and tended our dumb chickens, changing their water and feeding them their scratch. I also threw them a few apples from the huge supply our neighbors so graciously donated.
The meat and dairy goats were next. They screamed in good-humored impatience as I chucked in their hay, scarfing noisily while butting each other and jockeying for position around the pile of alfalfa.
My better half had released the hound, Diamond, our purebred black German Shepherd, from her kennel and she came barreling around a shed to meet and greet me.
"Go Dummy Dog!", I said to her, "Run away!" She took off, galloping at full speed, enjoying this fun time of day.
After preparing horse and more goat food, all three of us walked towards the Angora goats and horses. After feeding them, we lazily made our way back and observed one Angora doe that wasn't eating. Very unusual, as they love their food. We stepped closer for a better look.
There was a tiny head emerging from her hind end.
"Oh no! She's got a little one and it's in big trouble!", I cried.
I dashed into the pen and up to the doe, who placidly let me approach and check her out. Sure enough, the kid was dead and the doe was unable to expel it. The kid was folded incorrectly for birth and had died while the doe tried to push it out.
"Call Pauline!", I instructed my guy. She was a horse breeder and I knew she had seen this type of problem before in mares. This was way over my head to tend to. We have a problem in our area getting vets to come out, and most of us rancher-types have certain vet skills that we share with others in the community.
I tried to comfort the doe. I knew she was in a great deal of pain. I also knew that one kid might be dead, but there could be another inside waiting to be born. She hummed and rested her head on my leg, grateful for the human attention and comfort.
Pauline came quickly and another of our friends arrived as soon as they could. Another neighbor brought a tetnus vaccine and iodine. Pauline brought her rubber gloves.
She had us hold the doe and she went to work. There was another kid! It was trying to come out alongside the dead one! If we pushed it back in to remove the dead kid, it would suffocate. Pauline deftly worked out the two front feet of the dead baby and pulled gently. It slid out. Whew! The live kid came out with no trouble, opening it's tiny eyes to the glare of a flashlight. The doe sighed with relief as we let her get up and tend to her baby. She would be a good mother.
One tragedy. One miracle. Neighbors and friends coming together in a time of crisis. This is how we are in the rural places.
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