Well a lot has been happening here, probably too much, first of all after many years of waiting Wronny finally went into labor for real. As soon as the farmer left for town to run errands.
If you would like to jinx somebody when they have their kids, the best thing to do is tell everybody how easy it is for them, how they are a top professional and never need any help. Do that, like the farmer did, then go to town.
So Wronny started trying to have her kids and she just wasn't getting anywhere. The farmer came home a couple of hours later and found her, wrung out with pushing, and just a head sticking out, a big head.
"I'm sorry Wronny," the farmer said, and through some kind of miracle the farmer was able to get one leg around and then a mighty tug of war ensued and finally the kid flopped out like a fish. This kid was a gigantic buck kid and no offense to him but he was one of the deadest looking little gentlemen you ever saw but the farmer spanked and spanked him and swung him around and after about three minutes he spluttered, just like the farmer's Stihl chain saw that won't even pop and causes all kinds of blue language and then finally blurts to life.
Then comes the next one, only very slightly better, this one has a head like a basketball and one leg back and the farmer can't get the second leg so there is nothing for it but another mighty tug of war and this guy plops out and he isn't that much easier to start, both of them have been stuck in there for a while and they are not firing on all cylinders.
And then the farmer bounces Wronny and feels a slight bounce, then bounces again and nothing. And again, and nothing. And so the farmer brings Wronny a special drink, and some alfalfa and cookies and calcium, and goes to let everybody else in and do the milking and the rest of the chores. And when the farmer checks on Wronny about an hour later she looks okay.
But not quite right. Something isn't quite right.
Well the next time the farmer comes back Wronny still hasn't passed her placenta and she still doesn't look right so the farmer decides there is nothing for it but to go in and sure enough there is another kid in there and this kid is about as stuck as you can get and it takes ten minutes of flipping and rearranging and end-of-the-world bellowing and finally the last buck kid comes out but the farmer cannot get him started.
He gets the full 911 but he will not start.
"I'm sorry Wronny," says the farmer and Wronny being a queen reacts in a dignified fashion not mentioning that she never goes to town when the farmer needs help, and after nuzzling the third triplet gently for a couple of minutes she turns her attention graciously to her two other bucklings and the farmer decides then and there to let her keep them instead of making them bottle babies.
It seems like the right thing to do.
Ok fine a couple of days pass and then Jammies goes into labor and if you aren't satisfied with jinxing just one kidding, be sure and invite someone over to watch the next one and that should guarantee another jinx.
Jammies starts to push and the farmer sets the timer for one hour, this is the inflexible ONE HOUR RULE.
If you are ever wondering how long should you wait after your doe starts pushing before you do something, here is the answer you have been looking for. WAIT ONE HOUR.
Well the timer gets to 57 minutes and the farmer goes and washes up and comes back and starts in to poking around and there is no nose to be found, and there are no toes. The nose-and-toes position, which is the position you always want, is not happening.
All right then starts in the bellowing and the fishing and the farmer is getting a very perplexed look and finally out comes a tiny little pancake of a doeling and it is immediately apparent that there isn't really any point in the 911, the little doeling was never made for this world, so back in and what a tangle it is getting the next one out but my goodness it is a normal one and after a kindly thrashing it is wide awake and raring to go, and then back in, and yes, there is another, only this one is UPSIDE DOWN, laying on her back with her toes to the sky, and it takes some swirling but she comes out and agrees to breathe and after a bit she looks like she will make it only she won't be able to walk properly for a while because of her tendons being so horribly contracted but that is nothing of any importance.
And so that's what happened. It wasn't easy by any means but Gulliver and Halfway were born, and so were Buckles and Jinx.
Triplet bucks, then triplet does. Things could have gone better. But they could have gone a lot worse.
So that's how we got here. And here we are.
Diary of a Dairy Goat. This blog is the diary of one goat, Baby Belle, a Nigerian Dwarf who lives on a small dairy farm in Western Washington.