HERD WELCOMES NEW CRIA

Kindred Spirits Sangrita was born on October 6, 2009, the daughter of our Margarita and MacGwire.  She was given a very warm welcome by all her herdmates, and proved that she is athletic and graceful, not more than 20 minutes after birth.  We are absolutely thrilled with this strong, healthy, little girl.  The arrival of Sangrita (call name: Sandy) completes our 2009 birthing season.  We are grateful and humbled by the gift of our three beautiful boys and this exquisite little girl, truly gifts from God.

Now, for the Rest of the Story

It was just a week ago that I returned from being trapped in Oklahoma City following the worst ice storm of the century. In fact, even today, over 70,000 homes are without electric power. Anyway, I got home on Monday and by Tuesday, realized that much work needed to be done in the paddocks. I also realized that the crias had not been weighed for almost 5 days. I was particularly concerned about little Aurora, our little girl who was only two weeks old and dealing with freezing temperatures. I was also concerned about the amount of milk her mother, Aliza, was delivering; as I had never seen the “got milk?” look on Auroras face. I therefore made the decision to go through the weighing drill Tuesday morning. In that Sue was home and trapped in the house do to back pain, I also decided to remove the cria coats and have Sue give them a quick cleaning and run in the dryer.

This all sounds like a good idea, but the temperatures were near freezing, the paddocks were covered in ice. That which was not under ice was freezing mud. Sue argued that weighing was not needed, as the crias looked active and healthy, Aurora had visibly grown (or her cria coat had shrunk by about 25%) and I would probably kill myself on the ice. Sues reasoning was flawless, but my engineering mind insisted that all obvious goodness be quantified with numbers. It also appears, in retrospect, that my “common sense switch” was in the OFF position. So out into the winter went the overconfident engineer. After all, I am a homo sapien with a very large brain and opposing thumb. How could anything go wrong?

What I did not understand is the nature of a herd (pack) of crias. Two crias are cute; three revert to pack behavior, resembling the famed alpacacriasaurus of pre-history. The alpacacriasaurus was a cute, fuzzy, little critter that traveled in packs, hunting down early bipedal hominids. These packs of alpacacriasaurus’s would frustrate the bipedal hominids to the point of self destruction, a clever and sinister strategy. Of course, like all predators, the alpacacriasaurus would seek out the old, weak and feeble which, regrettably, describes me. It did not help that the purpose of my visit to the paddocks was made clearly evident in that I arrived with a bathroom scale and bag full of paper work in my hands. I also had a piece of plywood to place on the ground, as the scale would have disappeared in the mud. I should have noticed that I was in trouble when the three crias suddenly grouped together for a meeting. The mommies stepped into the shelter, shoulder to shoulder, for a good view of the action to follow. I think they were laying down bets. Furthermore, I was dressed in a full body “poopy suite’” heavy coat, Elmer Fud hat and gloves, rendering me with less than half of the mobility left to me by old age. Let the games begin!

I did not need to weigh L’il King, as he had just been to the hospital for a second cast fitting and he weighed well over 30 lbs. Just grab him, message his umbilical opening (now resolving well) and take off his coat. L’il King gives a great imitation of Tiny Tim, the lovable little crippled kid in the Dickens “Christmas Carol.” L’il King looks pathetic in his full leg cast (needed due to a broken toe obtained while proving that he is “all boy”), limping along, looking for someone to club. As I sneak up behind him, he waits until the last second and them spins around, using his cast as a pivot point, and sprints (clump, clump, and clump) away at the handicap version of warp 9. After a ten minute chase, I cleverly block his path behind a shelter wall with a wheel barrow (that is my big brain kicking in) and I have him. Now, with the skill of a desperado fleeing on horseback, who shoots back at the pursuing posse, L’il King spins his head around to fire of a well placed spit. I, of course, am mouth breathing by this time and, yep, I get a full load right in the choppers. YUK!!!! This is the second time he has done this to me (note how fast we engineers learn) so I drop the shooter and head for a water bucket for a badly needed gargle. Our Great Pyres share the water buckets, so bucket water always has a neat coating of dog slobber. While all of this may sound pretty disgusting, I am here to tell you that dog slobber is VERY much tastier than alpaca spit. I bet that is a bit of epicurean information you will not hear on the Food Channel. The “slip and slide” chase starts anew and he is finally mine. He cleverly clubs me in the shins with his cast as I tend to his navel. One down, two to go.

Next comes Tequila Sunrise (Sunny) who is about to live up to her name, that is a sweet drink with a kick. So far, I have only slipped and fallen once, and experience is kicking in. This time I do have to get a weight, so the plywood and scale are set up. What fun, I must now weigh myself (just what I wanted to face up to) and then hold Sunny while I get a second weight. Sounds simple, eh? This time I block off on of the entrances to the shelter with the wheel barrow so I can trap Sunny and not play the slip and slide chase game. Sunny has saddled up to mommy for a snack and the time is right. I grab her by the cria coat (a much better grip that raw alpaca) and throw a leg lock to hold her while the cria coat is removed. So far, so good. Now, comes the lift. Uffda, she is heavy. I cradle her breast and rear in my arms with her legs and feet hanging down to below my waist. Sunny immediately starts to kick, actually sort of run-in-place, hard. Thud, thud, thud, direct hits on a very personal part of my body. I can not let go and must endure the painful indignity, with my voice slowly rising to a level that would qualify me as lead singer in the Vienna Boys Choir. I struggle to the scales and climb aboard, waiting for the scale to figure out what the total comes to. A number comes up that does not make sense. I feel a bump against my leg (Sunny is still kicking) and look down to see Niki, our female Great Pyre, standing on the scale! I start screaming (rather high pitched, I might ad) “no Niki, no Niki!” which only excites Sunny to more kicking. I must now get off the scale, wait for it to reset, and then get back on. Finally, I get a weight and let go of the chain saw cria, roll to the ground and recapture my engineering like composer. One more to go and this is a little one. What can go wrong?

Aurora, who is small and sweet, is in the shelter, next to her mommy. Piece of cake! I snatch her by the cria coat and the scampering begins. I manage to peel off the coat, but it flicks into the air just as she scoots out of reach. Suddenly, like an NFL football champ, Niki springs to life and grabs the cria coat before it can hit the ground. Now, one needs to know that Niki, as a puppy, once ate an entire fabric shelter in one night. She was board. I am not making this up. Niki is capable of boundless destruction if she sets her mind to it. I MUST save the cria coat. Niki has ducked through one of my three dog doors in my fences and has joined the boys for a chase and a romp, cria coat in tow. I charge after her, slipping and sliding on the ice. The chase goes on for about 10 minutes before I finally block her last escape and plead with Niki to give up her prize. Sensing that I am near death, Niki simply trots up and drops the coat into my hands. It was, after all, just a fun game. I stager back and re-corner Aurora in the shelter. This little one is quick and before I know what has happened, she has run towards the blocking wheel barrow at full speed and then, like a hall of fame baseball player on steroids (is that redundant?), she slide UNDER the wheel barrow for he escape. Another chase follows with her finally in my arms for the weigh in. Yep, her body weight has increased by almost 25%, right in keeping with the size of her cria coat that seems to have shrunk by 25%. Actually, Sue had estimated her weight gain within a few ounces, but now I had that all important evidence. I had only fallen two more times. Did I mention that the mommy’s were still lined up, laughing and pointing? They can do that, you know.

Putting the cria coats back on later also offered a fun filled, slip and slide adventure, but they seem to have proved their point and cooperated. The cria pack controlled their world and I would be allowed to participate in there lives only so long as I provided a good laugh.

By the way, Aurora now has the “got milk” look. In fact, she had so much milk rolling down her face and neck that I had to tidy her up. I wondered what had changed, so the next time she was nursing I got into the head down, butt up position to see what was going on. Actually, I think there is a law against that in Oklahoma. It turns out that she is trying to nurse with hay in her mouth. I guess this is the cria version of “cookies and milk.” She is getting quite good at it now.

So there you are. You asked!

Cheers,

Ed

Pistol Pete & Rosita

The arrival of Pistol Pete and Rosita demonstrated the need to be prepared and have a plan in place, in case something does not go right. Ed was in cria watch the day of their birth, and he had done a routine morning check (nothing going on) before retiring to the ranch office to take care of his consulting business. A mere two hours later, as he strolled out for another check, he was met with the unexpected view of two (not one, but two!) pregnant ladies in the process of delivering their crias! Ananda, a first-time mom, had just given birth to an unusually small (9.6 pounds) little girl who was lying in the hay. Our wonderful Great Pyrenees female, Nicki, was lying next to the cria, keeping her safe from the cool autumn day and cleaning off the afterbirth. Meanwhile, Hazel, with three prior crias to her credit, was in trouble. Her cria’s head was protruding from her hind end, but there were no legs to be seen. Another contraction. Still no legs. Ed checked her, as he had been taught, but found that the cria’s legs were under his body. He tried pushing the cria back in, to free his legs, but no dice. No matter what Ed tried, he could not free the crias legs, so that he could be born. Worried and out of ideas, Ed called Sue at work, where she works as a kitchen designer for Lowe’s. Hearing Ed’s voice, the first thing Sue said was, “Who is in labor?” Ed replied, “Both!” Both? Sue headed for home, turning a normal 40 minutes commute into a 20 minute dash for life. The trailer was ready to go by the time Sue got home, and when Sue was also unsuccessful in freeing the crias legs, we gently led Hazel to the trailer. Sue rode with Hazel, holding the crias’s head in her hands, the whole trip, to protect the head from being injured. Just how fast can a V8 equipped Dodge Dakota, towing a 16 foot stock trailer really go? Trust me, the Highway Patrol does not want to know! Meanwhile, back in the trailer, Sue held the cria’s head, watching him continue to try to be born, talking to him and encouraging him to keep fighting. Hazel knew she was in loving hands, and patiently waited for the trip to reach its destination.

Our arrival at Oklahoma State University’s Veterinary Teaching Hospital in Stillwater was met with a team of three doctors, two veterinary technicians, and, by best count, some 20 veterinary students. Like a scene straight out of the television hit, “ER,” one team administered an epidural to Hazel, so that the cria could be repositioned and delivered, and the second team waited with a gurney, to take the newborn cria immediately into the hospital, the moment he was born. The moment he was born, the “cria team” whisked him into the hospital, as planned, and Hazel’s team tended to her. She was very sore, very bruised, but otherwise just fine. Once her afterbirth was delivered and the doctors were satisfied that they had given her the care she needed, it was time for her to visit her new baby. Hazel saw her beautiful, white baby boy (14.7 pounds of strong will from our most petite female) and began to nuzzle him and talk to him. He had been on oxygen to help him along after the exhausting birth experience, but he responded to his mother and answered her. After two days in the hospital, for observation, mother and son returned home to the ranch, in excellent condition. Their welcome by the rest of the herd was exuberant. And Pistol Pete met his half-sister for the first time.

Our rush to the hospital did not leave Ananda’s beautiful, rose gray little girl unattended. With Nicki at her side, and our remarkable llama (yes, llama!), Granada, serving as the world’s best auntie, tiny Rosita was up and nursing by the time we had completed our emergency run to the hospital. And what about the name, “Pistol Pete?” In honor of Oklahoma State University’s role in saving both Hazel’s and her son’s lives, this little boy, healthy and full of mischief was named after the famed OSU Cowboys football mascot, the hail and hearty Pistol Pete, who is reputed to be the world’s first cowboy, born just down the road, in Perkins, Oklahoma.

King of Hearts

It is funny (funny, weird) how unexpected things can happen quickly. I when out to the paddocks to check things out and do the evening chores. I notice our little boy, King (short for Kindred Spirits King of Hearts), was limping. A quick call to the OSU medical center resulted in a fast trailer hook up (already positioned by the loading gate) and drive to the OSU vet hospital.

Two doctors, three students, and a series of x-rays later, we were headed home with a little boy in a soft cast from left front foot to the top of the leg. He broke a toe! His mommy (Ananda) went with him and did a fantastic job of taking care of her cria throughout the entire event. She even stayed with him (at the request of the doctor) in the x-ray room, complete with protective apron! The cast is in the OSU colors, bright orange, and the doctor drew a “smiley face” on it. King adapted immediately and is doing very well. We are being very careful to make sure the cast does not restrict blood flow to the leg, but the prognosis is for a full recovery within three weeks.

What surprised me was the level of technology available at OSU. I broke my leg (both lower bones) almost four years ago and remember dealing with fuzzy x-ray prints viewed on the old back-light system. OSU uses advance digital technology which allowed the brake to be viewed on a high definition screen in seconds, complete with the ability to zoom in and rotate to any view. They were able to re-set and accurately tape the brake in place before adding the cast. King was placed on pain controlling meds as soon as the problem was initially diagnosed and he never so much as flared a nostril. We are blessed to have such a good medical facility so close. I am thinking of wearing a wrist bracelet that says “If found unconscious, take to the OSU vet hospital.”

Margi (our most experience mommy) is still holding out, but today may be the day. The temps will be in the high seventies for the next few days, which would be perfect.

Cheers,
Ed