Friday, January 30, 2009

I am ripped about reports that execs have given away 18 billion of our tax dollars to themselves and even more pissed because Obama couldn't bring himself to say anything more forceful than they should be ashamed of themselves and that he planned on having them in for a talk. All the news shows talked about how he, normally cool and collected, showed a barely controlled anger at his press conference. I wrote him if he couldn't get any angrier than that he ought to be ashamed of HIMself. TAKE THE MONEY BACK FOR CHRISSAKE, YOU'RE THE PRESIDENT.

There! Phew.

We've had a very stressful day here what with my reaction to the above but not nearly as stressful as the goat trying to give birth here. Yesterday morning an infant goat put in an appearance at the opening in the rear of its mother, only the head mind you. The mother seemed quite matter of fact about it, grazing on the morning's offering of hay and grain. Soon the owners came out to the field and let me know they were aware of the distressed condition of the infant. They are a middle aged woman and her barely mobile husband, confined to a golf cart kind of contraption. The baby's head had been hanging out of the rear end for an hour or more. I was quite sure it was dead by now, having struggled for some time to emerge with no progress whatsoever and now quite still. The woman approached the goat several times but the animal was having none of it and it was clear she'd never be able to get near it. I asked if I could help but they said they'd called the vet and although there was no answer they'd left a message. I couldn't imagine leaving the goat in this condition and went back to the computer to learn what I could. What I did learn was that goats are born feet first and if they emerge in some other way like breach or head first assistance is required to save the lives of both. Well then, I concluded, I better get my ass out there in the field and do what I do best, reach up the big hole and turn the thing around. Fortunately for me and very likely for mom and the kid, the vets (2 of them) did arrive at just that moment and it took them both, the aforementioned woman, and fifteen minutes or so of intense corralling to corner the animal in a place where it could be helped. One held the animal by the horns and the other two did what I was quite prepared to do as anyone could tell by looking at me standing on my side of the fence with my playtex gloves on. They did a remarkable job. That may nor may not have had anything to do with my offering advice and encouragement. To my astonishment they brought out the infant, alternately rubbing it down vigorously with a towel then standing it on its feet, gave the mother a couple of shots then got her to her feet and put them both in a pen by themselves where they seem happy and content nursing.

Today we strike out for Mobile Bay to visit Wayne's nephew (after having coffee with his sister this morning). We expect it to be less stressful but I am prepared.

1 comment:

  1. dear dad -
    i sincerely hope you mean latex gloves, not playtex. i think you'll find, via google, that playtex is something entirely different...

    sounds like you two are having quite a time! i'm particularly enamoured of the idea of mom with purple feather boa hair and you sitting quietly on the sidelines.

    and i'm going to quote you're reaction to obama at work tomorrow. joe will love it, as did i.