Caper has been limping for two months. At first I thought that it was a stone bruise that would go away. Or maybe a muscle pull. After a few weeks of watching Caper limp, I had Dr. Sarah come out. Luckily for us, Dr. Sarah not only has a small animal practice, but she’s also married to a dairy farmer and knows livestock AND does house calls. Dr. Sarah wasn’t too concerned about Caper, she thought it might be a strained muscle and gave him a shot of banamine. Unfortunately, Caper continued to wave his right front foot in the air. Clearly he was saying, “ow, ow!” It was decided to do x-rays, which meant a trip to Dr. Sarah’s office.

The goats are twin brothers and have never been separated. They also haven’t been in a car since they were delivered here when they were babies. I wanted to make this trip as stress-free as possible, and so the minivan was turned into the goat van and Pip came along to keep his brother company. I introduced them to the back of the van using my target stick and treats. These are clicker-trained goats. They’ll follow the knobby end of that target stick just about anywhere. So, instead of tugging and pulling, I simply had them go towards the stick. Still, Steve had to pick the boys up and put them in the van.

The ride was surprisingly uneventful. A bit of meh-mehing. They were so busy learning how to stand up in a moving vehicle, that they didn’t try to dismantle the back seat. The drive to the vet’s office is only 20 minutes.

We waited outside. The boys decided to do some landscaping for Dr. Sarah. These branches needed trimming.

The boys noticed plants inside and offered to help trim them, too. We said no.

After a thorough exam, much prodding of shoulder muscles, and trotting back and forth across the parking lot, it was decided to x-ray Caper’s knee. The boys liked saying hello to the nice people in the waiting room. I goat-proofed the examination room (dangling IV tubes are a magnet for goats.) I also cleaned up.

Caper had x-rays taken of both knees. Dr. Sarah doesn’t get to read many goat x-rays, so she compared the injured joint with Caper’s healthy one.

There appeared to be a slight bone chip in his right knee. No wonder Caper has been ouchy! The diagnosis doesn’t change how I care for Caper –  this will take time (and maybe a few aspirin) to heal. But, I am relieved to know what the problem is and to be reassured that I’m taking care of him as best I can.

In order to give a correct dose of aspirin, Caper needed to be weighed. Dr. Sarah picked Caper up and put him on the scale. Caper, being a goat, even a gimpy one, immediately hopped off. Instead of having to wrestle him still, I pulled out my target stick and treat bag. Caper politely stood on the scale. It registered 45 pounds. Big boy.

After saying enthusiastic good-byes to everyone, the goats got back into the goatvan. This time, there was lots of bleating and head butting. Finally, three miles from home, they laid down.

The trip to the vet was fun for the boys, expensive for me, and something I hope we won’t have a reason to repeat anytime soon. But, perhaps a road trip somewhere else is in the future?

Announcing (drum-roll please) ringtones of the sounds of Little Pond Farm! It took quite a  bit of doing, of sneaking around with a super-duper recording device, and of editing with special computer software, but HenCam ringtones are now available for your iPhone! (And, soon, an album will be up on iTunes, so that those of you with other phones can download them. I’ll let you know when iTunes clears them for sale.) Update: the album is now available on iTunes!

Here’s the selection:

Marge (chicken solo)
Chickens Waiting To Go Out
Chickens Still Waiting To Go Out
Candy the Bunny Rings Her Bell
Lily the Dog
Lily and Scooter (Dog Duet)
Pip and Caper (Goat Duet)
Pip and Caper and Marge
Carolina Wren Stuck in the Barn

Here’s what iPhone owners can do to get HenCam ringtones:
start up the iTunes app
go to “search” and search for “Hencam”

Easy! Enjoy! Spread the word!

Almost all chickens have some external parasites, you just don’t notice them. Neither does the chicken. The birds can live with a few lice crawling under their feathers. So can you. Chickens take dust baths to keep them under control. Lice are soft-bodied and the dirt desiccates them. Add some diatomaceous earth to their favorite dusting area, and you’ll be sure to kill off the lice – the earth is sharp and lacerates the lice. (Be sure to only food-grade DE. Agricultural DE, used to kill slugs, etc, is  derived from sea creatures, is microscopically very sharp, and it will shred chicken’s soft tissues if ingested.)

Lice can get out of control and cause severe problems. In the winter, when the ground is frozen and there’s no loose dirt for bathing, the lice population will grow. In the spring, when it’s muddy and warm, the population increases even more. If your hen is elderly and arthritic, or ill and not an enthusiastic bather, you’ll have real problems.

The first place for a lice infestation is near the vent. There can be a lot of lice there and you won’t notice until the skin is bare and red. Like this.

Actually, this is Eleanor’s butt, and it’s been  red and bare like this for two years. No one knows why – but it is a dramatic representation of a sad-looking bottom, isn’t it?

Every few weeks I pick my hens up, turn them upside down, and look at the feathers near the vent. Last week’s check showed what I call “lice Q-Tips.”

Those cottony masses at the base of the feathers is a sure sign of lice.

After checking all of the hens and seeing way too much of this (and some crawly bugs, too) I decided to give everyone baths. I set up three bowls – one with a tea tree oil dog shampoo, one with a vinegar and water wash, and the last for a rinse. These bowls were dumped and refreshed several times. It was a hot, sunny day and I set an x-pen up on the grass so after their baths, the girls could dry out on a clean, comfy surface.

Not everyone was equally infested. I wasn’t surprised that my older, less active hens harbored the  most lice. On the other end of the spectrum was Lulu, the busiest hen of the lot, who didn’t have a louse on her. Here is her healthy bottom. Notice the many small, downy feathers. They’re so fluffy that you can’t see her skin.

Here’s another view. Isn’t that a nice bottom?

After bathing the hens, their pens got raked and DE was put down. My oldest and most infested hens also got a dusting of commercial louse powder. Eleanor will never have a fluffy bottom, like Lulu, but she’s a lot more comfortable.

Marge talks to her friends

A week ago we noticed that Marge wasn’t loudly complaining. That should have had us worried. A few days ago, Steve noticed that Marge was having a hard time hopping up and out of the pop-hole door. I thought that she was just getting old and stiff. But today she died. (I will post more, maybe next week, about this.)

Marge came to Little Pond Farm in the fall of 2004. A friend in town bought the “rainbow layer” assortment from Murray McMurray. Twenty-five were too many for her. She sold half for $4 each, and gave the money to Heifer International. We took six. It turned out that two were New Hampshire Reds – Marge and Petunia.

For the last 5 1/2 years, Marge has been a loud presence in our backyard. She was a sturdy, basic brown hen, but there was nothing plain about her personality. She talked. She told you what she thought – which was usually in the lines of, “more bugs!” and “that’s for me!” and “pay attention!” and, “bring it here!” She also announced when she was going into the coop and when she was leaving. For a few years, she laid eggs every day, and she let us know that she had done her job, very well thank-you, and she should have a reward for it. Lately she hadn’t been laying, but she said she still deserved her reward, and we agreed.

It’s going to be a lot quieter here without her. Petunia will miss her, and so will I.