Vindie-Lou, intrepid explorer

Vindie-Lou, intrepid day-old explorer.

Vindie hasn't been bothered by recent weather conditions, except at 2 yesterday morning, when she decided that it was too cold and too dark and too early to come out for milk, which upset Helen (who got vocal enough about it to wake me up). In Vindie's defence, it was so cold that there was ice on the ground outside, and she did look really snug. However, Helen was worried, so Vindie was roused out of bed and transported to the milk bar so that the rest of us could go back to sleep.

Vindie-Lou, day-old figure skater.

Albie met Vindie yesterday. Vindie wanted to know if his udder produced milk, but couldn't find the teats. Albie found the whole situation kind of embarrassing and awkward - apparently it isn't a dad's job to educate one's kid about that sort of stuff.

Helen has been producing milk overtime. Her teats are nearly as big as Vindie's head. Vindie does her best, but she just can't keep up with production (it's exhausting work, apparently - Vindie spends much of the time asleep). I milked a litre and a quarter from Helen on Tuesday morning, and a litre and a half yesterday morning, and a litre today because Vindie was up early. Helen still has plenty to spare (not that she was overly appreciative of my efforts to relieve the udder pressure).

Two-day-old Vindie-Lou and new BFF Trusty Sidekick,
just chilling.

Vindie-Lou, two-day-old mummy's girl.

Tuesday and Wednesday's milk has been made into a miniature batch of feta, following the same method I used early last season, but using rather elderly acidophilus yogurt as the starter culture (that was all we had), and the exciting new floating dairy thermometer that Mr Farmer brought home. The exciting new floating dairy thermometer is exciting because it replaces an old thermometer that recently decided that everything would be 15°C. The major downside is that the exciting new floating dairy thermometer floats with the temperature side down, and the temperatures (when yo can see them) are in Fahrenheit - somewhat confusing for someone who has converted her cheese recipes to Celsius - but it makes up for that by having labels at various temperatures for "freeze" "churn" "cheese" "pasteurise" and "water boils". The curds are currently draining in home-made cheese molds, which replace cheesecloth because they claim to be less messy. This claim pleases Mr Farmer immensely.

Proud mum Helen and two-day-old Vindie-Lou.

Helen has been mowing the lawn next door, which is steep and, with the current sodden ground, inaccessible even by our neighbour's seasoned ride-on mower (a petrol-powered one, not a grass-powered one like we had). Vindie usually wakes up in time to join Helen for lunch, then has a long afternoon nap in the bushes, after which it is about time to come home with her mum for the evening.

Happy birthday, Vindie-Lou (finally)

Thursday was day 150, but Helen had heard from the sheep that a cold front was coming later in the week, and, according to the ewes, there is no better time to give birth than when it's wet and cold. So Helen held off.

Vindie-Lou, just minutes old, having a bath.

By day 152, there was a strong suspicion that the gestation period had been incorrectly calculated. Albie was starting to get nervous. Roger was still gloating confidently.

On the morning of day 153, the polar blast arrived. By 9 am, Helen had bagged up. The contractions started after 11, and Albie whipped down to the local store to buy some cigars (where he ran into Roger, also there for cigars). Helen started doing her breathing exercises, and declined an epidural. Finally, at 12.30 pm, Vindie-Lou was born. Although a team of medical experts were standing by, Helen managed to do it all by herself, for the first time ever. Quite a feat, for a small goat with a rather substantial-sized kid. The last part of the birth was caught on camera - the video, below, is not for the faint hearted, and (says Helen) highlights the benefits of a caesarian section.

Vindie-Lou, modeling this season's latest in lamb wear
(much to Albie's horror)

Vindie-Lou and Helen are spending the night under cover (Mr Farmer declined to let them inside by the fire for the evening), Vindie-Lou wearing her new lamb jacket, tired out after an afternoon of milk drinking and wobbly skipping.

There is one small problem, as identified by Roger. Vindie-Lou is completely white. Albie is not. Vindie-Lou has small, slim (slightly lop-sided) ears. Albie does not. Vindie-Lou has an unusually long tail for a goat. Albie does not... but Roger does...

Who are you, and how did you get into our paddock?

Anonymous Equine: short, dark, handsome and mysterious.

That's the question the sheep are asking (in addition to "is it safe to approach it?").

It's not the Ride-on Mower (too slim, for a start, and it's a boy).

It's not the goat kid we were expecting (or the sheep-goat kid Roger was hoping for).

Even more puzzling, our paddocks are fully-fenced, and while these fences are goat- and Pitt-Island-penetrable (what fence isn't?), they are miniature-horse proof (just ask the Ride-on Mower). Perhaps we have a grand-prix jumper?

Just kidding about kidding

Three of today's new arrivals, barely 30 minutes old, at the milk bar.

Helen may not have kidded today, but Kim gave birth just after 3pm. Cliff now looks to be the winner of the "Who Can Father The Most Children This Season" competition, though Roger still reckons he's in with a chance if Helen gives birth to quintuplets. Everyone suspects Albie would be happy just to be able to enter the competition.

Maybe tomorrow, then...

Pregnant Pauses

Helen's colostrum was milky this afternoon.

Kim is building a nest.

Cliff and Albie are standing by nervously, holding trotters in a very masculine gesture of support. Roger, just over the fence, is waiting with his flock (or what remains of it, after the Pitt Island girls were lured into the top paddock with the super-secure fences).

Nicole Ritchie agreed to appear on camera,
shortly before helping us to lure her mum
back from the neighbour's paddock, and
into the top paddock with the super-secure
fences. She declined to give autographs,
although Albie asked so nicely.

Roger is still convinced that he is the father of Helen's unborn kid, however Albie says that Roger ought to be content with his four current children. Big Suffolk doesn't seem overly concerned about the variety of mothers that Roger's children have, and the Pitt Island girls are still trying to figure out how they got trapped in the top paddock with the super secure fences. Nobody has challenged Cliff's paternity (who would go there, say the sheep, Kim's such a pig).

Paternity and maternity issues aside, we are all very excited about tomorrow.

Saturday's slow-roasted shanks

Saturday, who looks just like Nicole Ritchie only smaller.

Yesterday, Saturday was born. Saturday is an Arapawa Pitt Island cross. Roger his proud, because Saturday looks just like her dad, and nothing like her mum, Arethra (the Pitt Island ewe with the scurs and the inability to spell). Saturday is Nicole Ritchie's younger half sister - the two are almost identical, but Nicole and her mum Whitney are currently residing in the neighbour's paddock, and refuse to be photographed. Nicole was born about two weeks before Saturday.

To celebrate Saturday's arrival, here is a recipe that we have called Saturday's Slow-Roasted Shanks (even though Saturday still has all her shanks, and will do so for some time)...

2 lamb shanks

1 cup celery, sliced
1 cup carrot, sliced
1 cup onion, finely chopped
6 small-ish potatoes

2 cloves garlic, crushed
1 teaspoon dried thyme
1 teaspoon dried rosemary
1 large bay leaf
salt and pepper

4 tomatoes, puréed
1 cup white wine
1 cups chicken stock

Combine all ingredients in a roasting pan with lid. Cover, cook long and slow at no hotter than 150°C (302°F), for about 2 hours, or until the meat is falling off the bone.

In other news, after some trouble with the big bad wolf, the last of the three little pigs moved to the freezer last weekend. Karina and Petra, aged just 17 weeks, moved into the three little pigs' house shortly afterwards. Karina plans to grow up and have children with one of Kim's offspring (due later this year), while Petra has plans for a more more culinary career. Kim and Cliff have been toying with the idea of finding a new home, and are thinking about moving out after Kim has her next litter of piglets.

Helen is still pregnant, moody, hormonal, and due to kid this Thursday (despite an early mix-up with dates which had us expecting the kid two weeks ago). She's been spending time with the cows next door, and hasn't been keen to come back home for anyone. The cows next door have accepted Helen as a senior member of the herd, and will follow her all the way to the fence when she gets dragged back home. Back in our paddocks, Roger and Albie are both excited about the prospect of fathering Helen's kids, but that is another story...