Baby feeding woes

So Darcy's been being a butt-head about not wanting to feed her babies enough (Symbol's been a champ). I bottle fed them for a couple of days, before calling out the cavalry, Janet Cooper, aka Darcy's breeder. Janet showed me how to hold her still so the babies can get what they really need, Mom's milk. I hate to do it to her, but I hate to have starving babies even more.

New arrivals

We've had an eventful few days around here, but I guess I should start at the beginning. This summer, we bought a Nubian buck, Jesus.

We sold him recently, since I didn't want him around to taint the milk, but Jesus left us some little blessings, kids who were born this Sunday and Monday.

Darcy, our 3/4 Nubian, had her babies Saturday night or Sunday morning. Anyway, we went out Sunday morning and there they were. I learned my lesson from that and checked Symbol all through Sunday night. Here are some pics of Darcy and her kids.

They seemed reluctant to waste their first day sleeping, but they had a really hard time staying awake. I've named the girl (left) Maria, and the boy on the right Pedro. Does Maria remind you of anyone?

The third kid I named Pedro. This is Darcy and her babies this morning.

Monday morning, Symbol obligingly went into labor when I was outside checking her the first time after it got light. Monday morning was cold. Regardless, I managed to get some good photos of the births in progress.

This is kid #1's front feet. I haven't named Symbol's kids, because I feel like they're less likely to become pet wethers than Darcy's kids. She kept trying to clean Darcy's kids throughout the process.

Symbol cleaning kid #1. I had to keep dragging her back over to him from where she was trying to mother Darcy's kids.

While kid #1 was reaching for his first meal, kid#2 was already on the way. He was breech, but he came out much more quickly than his brother.

Symbol cleaning kid #2. She got him about that clean, then I grabbed a towel while she tried to clean Darcy's day-old kids.

Reaching for their first meal.

Symbol's kids, 2 days old.

Spring Sprang but now it's Summer

It's hot, hot, hot. I find myself getting out of bed at the crack of dawn to escape the heat. The blueberries are covered in unripe fruit and the elderberries are blooming everywhere.

Steve is in love with the Mimosa between our house and the woods. It is completely covered in pink powder puff blooms, and it looks like something from a fairy tale or a Japanese wood cut.

Goodbye, Little Tig

My last post, I mentioned that I hadn't seen Lil Tig. He continued to be missing, and I just figured he'd gone off after a cat in heat. This morning, my dog, Con, came running up with something in his mouth. It was Tig's tail. Con showed me where he'd found it. We'll be burying what is left of Tig today.

Goodbye, Tig. I am sorry you had such a short life. Hopefully your time with us was happy.

More rodent control

I've been proudly blogging about the cat I've encouraged to hang around to keep the rodent population down. I haven't seen him today, but I did just see two of my hens dismembering a mouse. Good work, girls!

Taming of the Tig 3

I know I'm not the most prolific blogger, so just a reminder that in Part 1, I was feeding Little Tig and rubbing his head when he stuck it out of the hole by the back door. In Part 2, I described how Tux, my indoor cat, ventured outside to help demonstrate to Tig that the life of a lap cat is very nice.

I started moving Tig's bowl far enough from the hole that he had to come all the way outside of it to eat. I was amazed what happened at that point. He initially flinched when I moved my hand toward him, but once my hand made contact, he burst out in nonstop purring and arched his back. He stopped eating to rub back and forth under my hand. It seems that Tig was a very affectionate kitty, he had just been afraid to let us close enough for him to show it!

He was much skinnier than he looked under all that fur, so I started feeding him twice a day. I also think he's younger than we at first thought--maybe 8-10 months.

Even with all the progress, Tig would run away if I tried to pet him anywhere other than by our back door, even if he was clearly begging to be petted (rubbing against corners, arching his back, kneading his paws on the ground, that sort of thing). That's where Tux came in. He continued his little forays outside to show off hoe happy he was being petted. He also would go outside just to talk to Tig. I don't know what they said, but eventually Tig has gotten where, if he begs for attention, I can stop and let him approach me. When that happens, he will let me pet him anywhere in the yard.

He also was a bit skittish when I had Steve hang around at feeding time. It turns out that when Steve fed him alone, he was just as affectionate with him as he is with me. I think that he's just worried that two of us might have evil designs that a lone person wouldn't. Or something. Who can figure out what a cat thinks?

Taming of the Tig 2

In Part 1, I described how Tig has been making the transition from fraidy cat to lap cat. I wanted to take a moment to mention my little ambassador in this negotiation.

Tux is a cat I have had for nearly ten years now. Early last year, we finally had to put down our older cat, Jake, who was the only cat Tux had known since he left his mother as a kitten. So when we adopted Speck from the humane society a month or two after Jake's death, Tux had no idea how to deal with her. And when Blackberry (not pictured) wandered up a few weeks after that, poor Tux felt like he was being bombarded with strange cats. But in the months since the kittens arrived, Tux has been the happiest I've ever seen him.

Even though Tux, Berry, and Speck are all indoor cats, Tux likes to go out occasionally for a sniff around. So when Tig showed up, I wasn't sure if Tux would see him as friend or threat. I didn't need to worry, because Tux immediately sized up the situation and set out to prove to Tig that getting hugs from people was about the best thing ever. When Tux was outside, all I had to do was walk up to him and he'd writhe on the ground, white tummy in the air, just begging for a tummy rub.