We were waiting for our new babysitter to arrive for a trial day. I went out front to fix the sign that had fallen down where the links connect. The goats came meandering around the deck toward me to see what I was getting into.
For whatever reason, I took note of each one, counting them to see if they were all present. Polly, the darkest brown Nubian, was missing. I walked around the house to gain a vantage point of the barn. There was Polly, standing at the barn’s opening, looking a little anxious.
I thought little of it, immediately dismissing the possibility of a birth because I hadn’t noticed her looking quite as pregnant as her sister. After all, Polly does kinda march to the beat of her own drum.
Thirty minutes later, Heather comes running into the house.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“Baby goat! We have a baby!”
She turned and tore off back toward the barn. I threw my muck boots on and tried to catch up.
Sure enough, behind the tractor, Polly was standing next to a soaking wet baby girl. The placenta hadn’t even been birthed yet.
After ensuring that the kid latched on and got a good drink from mama, we brought mama and baby into a stall with fresh straw and closed the door behind them.
It won’t be long until our girls are moved to their new home. But it’s a joy and a heart pain to enjoy the beauty of new birth one last time.