False Alarm

My husband went back home to Washington state for his brother's wedding. The night he left, one of my does went into (premature) labor. It was almost as if she knew he would be gone a week and I was alone to handle the homestead by myself. I gathered the supplies, dressed in my one-sie pajamas and headed out to the goat house for a long winter's night. To pass the time, I re-read the chapter on kidding in my two best goat care books. She had all the signs -- moaning, straining and passage of the mucous plug that one book said its presence meant "it's for real this time". 

But she wasn't due for about a month, so the labor was premature and the kids were probably too young to survive. So I prayed and slept alittle and prayed again. By 2 am, she was quiet. No more groaning, no more straining. By 3 am, I rolled up the sleeping bag and headed inside to my warm house and waiting mattress. Crisis averted, thank you God!

Scott called the next day and gloated, "Guess what I just did?" He had just played with two, day-old kids on a farm in Washington (see picture). I was jealous indeed, the response he intended, but not at the risk of my doe and her kids. I am practicing patience. My mother would be proud.