A New Arrival

The breeder at Cimarron Valley Ranch named her Honey Bunny.

With any departure, there needs to be an arrival.  Sunday night was the arrival of Honey Bunny, my third Nigerian Dwarf goat and only one with blue eyes and buckskin.  I put the dog crate in the goat yard and let Dottie Belle and Gypsy take a few good sniffs before I released Honey.  I have to admit that I was apprehensive about their reaction to a new "sister" and they proved that I should have been.  Sorry I don't have pictures of their first meeting, but it was too dark at 11 o'clock at night.  

 

Honey Bunny learned very quickly that I have goat pellets in the blue coffee cans.

 

Dottie Belle and Gypsy immediately sent a very strong message to Honey.  They ran in a circle around me and then stood on either side of me and had a stand-off with Honey.  Clearly communicating that Honey was not to come near me. It was quite amazing, but I could not let that situation last.  I stayed out there for an hour trying to make Honey feel welcomed and ease Dottie Belle's and Gypsy's jealousy or possessiveness.

Kennedy loves the goats.  The only animal name she says is cat.

They each have their own bin where they eat goat pellets.

She has beautiful blue eyes.

Gypsy's tongue is out like a dog's.

Of course I love all 3 goats.  But when Gypsy and Dottie Belle start ganging up on Honey Bunny, I remind them that they are $100 goats and Honey Bunny is a $350 goat.  My taste in livestock is getting more expensive.

But you just can't beat the personality of bottle fed goats like Gypsy and Dottie Belle. They just want to play with me.  They are more playful than most dogs.

But I finally gave up, because it seemed that my presence only made matters worse.  When I left they were chasing Honey around the yard and butting her.  I went in and googled, "how to introduce a new goat to a herd?" 
Site after site said you just have to let them work it out.  They have to establish the pecking order.  Gypsy has always been the alpha goat and it seemed that Dottie Belle was putting up quite a fight to remain #2. 


It is probably a good thing that Honey Bunny is 2 months older and a little bigger; otherwise she might get hurt. This is a great example of the importance of disbudding the goats.  I'm really glad none of the 3 have horns. 

Dottie Belle is trying to take the camera from me.

Drama at the Mini Urban Farm and One Hen Flew the Coop

The one with the red feathers around its neck is the one missing.

With this terrible heat, I have been letting the juvenile hens, the ones that we hatched this spring,  out in the morning when I feed all the animals. My first year of owning chickens, I was so protective that I never let them free range.  Then when a couple of them died anyway, I decided that it would be best if they died while enjoying their freedom. So I let them out this morning.  But as I don't often do, I left and went to the feed store for chicken feed and hay.  When I returned, I saw a neighbor's golden retriever in my backyard and some black feathers around her.  Then I saw one of my hens beside her, but mostly hidden in the tall grass.  I yelled at the dog, "Did you kill my chicken, you bad dog?" Just then the dog's owner pulled up in front of my house and heard me yell at her dog.  She was very upset to learn what her really sweet dog had done.  She offered to buy me another one.  She doesn't just let the dog run loose, but very rarely the dog manages to get out of the fence.  I told her I was not sure if the chicken was dead.  But when I decided that I wanted all these animals, I realized that with everything that is alive, death is also a factor.  So I told her I wasn't angry with her or her dog.  A chicken is great sport for a retriever.  Well, the little hen was alive with some missing feathers.  So I sprayed her wounds and put her in the hen house.  Out of the bushes ran another of the little hens.  Now the question was, where is hen number 3?  I looked in all the places the 3 like to hide during the day.  And they are always together, so I thought surely it was in the bushes next to the bank's fence from where the other one had come. I did not find her, so I went through the gate and walked the parking lot just in case she flew over the fence. But I did refrain from calling out, "Here chick, chick."  She would not have come anyway and I didn't want the bank customers to think I was a crazy lady.


I closed the door to the coop, because I had to leave again, but I opened it when I got home; hoping that the third hen would return. All the chickens go to roost in the coops when it gets dark.  I really believe she is alive, because there weren't that many feathers. The injured hen was up and drinking water, so I called my neighbor and told her that I think the hen will live, but one is wandering around. The 2 that are in the coop are full sisters and solid black; father, Big Foot and mother, Omelet.  The missing one is the largest and a half sister, because her mother is Sunny II, my green egg layer.  I have been anxiously waiting to see if she was going to lay olive colored eggs.  Well, often people post lost dog signs; I may have to post a lost chicken sign. We'll see how that goes.