Here are some 2022 goat updates. The year has started out not too promising in the animal husbandry department.
Stinky Chivo got too big for his britches and had to go. He was fighting with all the goats. He was fighting with my husband and son. He was just generally too aggressive, which is par for the course as a male goat matures.
Unfortunately, his departure occurred after he got one of the little chivitas pregnant. She’s less than a year old and it was no surprise when she miscarried. Physically, she seems ok, but the night after her loss, she cried and cried.
Then Chente, one of the triplets, up and died. He’d been not as active for a day or two, but as he’d always been the weakest of the three, we didn’t think much of it. We thought perhaps it was due to ticks and did a thorough check of all the animals and a dusting of cal (lime) to smother any insects on the ground. Cocoa and another of the goats did indeed have ticks, which were removed. No other animals got sick, which was a blessing. But poor Chente.
Then Jolina FINALLY had her babies, twins as usual. Jolina is always a bit of a dud when it comes to mothering, although her babies are always super active. This set was no exception. They have proven themselves to be the loudest dudes in the herd, probably because Jolina doesn’t respond to their bleats, which get progressively more intense until Papa Chivo (my husband) rolls out of bed to make sure they are getting fed.
Both boys are healthy and as of yet unnamed. It just gets tiresome wrangling Jolina into position to feed them every few hours. Oh well.
Enjoy the ongoing animal adventures of one family when they move to central Mexico and try to figure it all out in Animal Antics South of the Border.https://amzn.to/36ZuYEy
We have oodles of roosters currently. Six of the seven chicklets were gallos. Then somehow or other we had TWO quiquiriquis machos, that I called Alpha and Beta. Additionally, we had a regular-sized rooster who avoids the quiquiriquis like the plague, well mostly Alpha because he is a badass.
Anyway, the three grown roosters have decided in turn that my rooftop garden was a good place to hang out and poop. I am not pleased with this situation and take every opportunity to squirt them with the hose and flap my arms at them to get them to fly off.
Then we need to talk about the noise factor. Contrary to popular opinions, roosters do not just crow at dawn. Rather, they start a call-and-return musical rendition whenever they feel like it. It could be 3 am or 3 pm. Not only do we have 9 roosters on our property competing for song dominance, but the two closest neighbors also have chickens who want to be the earliest songbird in town, which riles up ours and so it goes on and on.
Not all of the roosters have perfected a harmonious crow as of yet. Their off-key singing more often than not riles up the dogs. Fred starts with some howling. George comes in with the bass. And finally, Cocoa is the soprano of the group. This lasts for several minutes. Not to be outdone, the roosters start up again as soon as the dogs start. Over and over again, multiple times throughout the day.
Last-minute update: Finally, three buyers later and our crooners are down to a manageable number. We still have one chicklet and the normal-sized rooster who is DEEE-LIGHTED to be the biggest cock in the compound. He reves up with a manly flapping of wings and let’s loose, now assured that no little quiquiriqui bully will clothesline him mid-crow.
We had a surprise brood appear this month. One of our kikirikis (miniature chicken) had taken herself off to the fenced-in area under the chayote, not that we noticed with the other clucky-clucks around. Then suddenly, she popped out with 7–yes 7–chicks in tow. She’s a cautious mom. She only took the little’uns to the other side of the fence when she was sure Fred and George wouldn’t bother them. They didn’t. She doesn’t have the panic-inducing sense of adventure the last mama hen had when she would round everybody up and “go on an adventure” like The Magic Schoolbus series. So far, so good!
Remember, some years ago, we had Chat, the chicken cat? Well, now we also have become the home of 2 chogs (chicken dogs). These speckled beasts not only lie down with the dogs (I’m sure waking up with fleas) but also come when my son calls Fred and George for dinner. And not just to hang back a modest distance either. They are front and center waiting for a plate of dog food. My son has to shoo them away, they are that aggressive.
If you remember, the story of Chat, the chicken cat, didn’t have a happy ending. It remains to be seen how Chog 1 and Chog 2 will do.