Thursday, April 9, 2009
Making A Pig Of Themselves
One thing for sure about Cora Belle and Filbert is they are friendly. I have been complaining to them about jumping up on me, usually after they have stepped in something disgusting. They jump on the front of me and they jump on the back and unlike a dog they don't care about any of my training techniques. So yesterday morning when I went down to feed something was amiss. Cora Belle and Fil were not underfoot. They were hanging back and looking rather dejected. I noticed Cora Belle had some vomit around her lips and down her legs. She was grinding her teeth and bleating pitifully. Oh no! She had gotten into something and by the looks of Filbert he had followed suit. I just couldn't imagine what they could have gotten into. My mind raced through all kinds of scenarios. The hay was bad. The hay had something poisonous in it. Someone fed them something through the fence. They were getting sick like Moly. I scoured their pasture for any sign of something that could have made them sick. Nothing. And none of the other goats were sick. What could it be?
So I got out the baking soda and put them in the milking stand and gave them a soothing soda drench. Maybe not so soothing but I managed to get enough down them after quite a struggle (good, they had plenty of strength left). I rubbed their tummies and sympathized with them. They went back to their stall and laid down moaning softly to themselves. My poor babies. What could they have gotten into?
Then it dawned on me. The evening before I had let the goats out into the main field to browse around while I was feeding. I had also let the chickens out to scratch around while I was there. I went into the feed shed to do something and awhile later when I came out Cora Belle and Filbert were in the chicken coop helping themselves to an all you can eat chicken pellet buffet. I had left the door open! I drug them out and never gave it another thought until yesterday when I spent all day racking my brain on what they could have eaten. Oh yeah, the chicken food, and obviously a lot more than I thought. While a normal amount probably wouldn't have made them sick, they must have been in there longer than I thought not eating a normal amount but making pigs of themselves.
After worrying about them all night, I was anxious to check on them this morning. As I walked up to the field, out jumped Cora Belle and Fil from their stall. They planted their two front feet on my clean jeans and said with bright eyes, "Hey, what's for breakfast?"
I was never so happy to have goat prints on my pants.