Birthing Donkeys? Me?

[originally posted to The Modern Homestead]

There’s an impending birth here at Browncoat acres; it will be the farm’s first in 2 years (my son and the 2 surviving chickens were born, and hatched (respectively) in mid-August of 2005). Sombrea (a Standard donkey) came to us pregnant, but her previous owner couldn’t tell us when she’d been bred--we think this one hadn’t been planned or authorized--especially so soon after giving birth to Serenity. So, at this point, it’s a guessing game as to when we’ll be hearing the clippity-clop of a new set of hooves around here. This will be my first midwivery, and I am pretty nervous, but I have to get over that before I get near Big Momma--she'll smell that straight off.

According to Morris (Looking After a Donkey), there are a few signs that we should be looking for: udder swelling, teat swelling, and teat waxing. After all this, Sombrea will actually begin dripping milk; that is when we need to start monitoring her every two hours, day and night. If I’m brave enough, I can also squeeze the base of her tail gently (obviously, that is the danger zone after all) to test for softness. Soft=get your coffee brewing things ready.

Her next bodily preparation will be to eliminate everything from her lower g.i. tract. From here, she’ll start having contractions within a few hours, and we’re to be checking for those every half hour or so. I should make time in the next few days to call Sombrea’s former owner to ask about her foaling history--how many she’s had, if she’s had any complications in the past, and what her last labor (with Serenity) was like in duration. Hopefully, this one won't travel like a shot cannonball.

I’ll post part 2 of this article to TMH this week (and copy it here), before I leave for Kansas, which will discuss the theoretical labor process. Part 3 will be my writeup (and pictures, if we’re lucky) of the birth after it’s happened, hopefully not while I'm gone.

Looking After a Donkey, by Dorothy Morris

We didn't have much time to prepare for our donkeys; we'd been losing the sheep to predators, and had mentioned needing some sort of guard animal to keep our herd safe. My MIL took this on as a mission (this was one of her more rational ones), and found us not one, but two. DH knew he wouldn't have the time to spend with them (training or standard status checks), and I have little to no equine experience (early readers may remember the one about Hercules the Thumb-Bandit). If we'd had a chance to wait, and to prepare better, I might have chosen another title.

Anyway, I was a good little consumer and dutifully kneeled at the altar (my laptop) to beseech the dieties (at Amazon) for words of salvation (this book). I read this out of necessity (I desperately needed to know how to cope with our donkeys) about a month ago. I found it to be moderately helpful. It was published about 20 years ago, and it is U.K.-centric, so the donkey organization information is only relevant in the sense that I can now go find their website in hope of more detailed health and care information. Some of the advice given assumes that the reader has some (what I would consider advanced-intermediate) knowledge on how to handle equines. Morrison tries to cover everything in 140+ pages, and I'm sure there's so much more that the new owner needs to know. A good third of the book is devoted to breeding and foaling, which to me seems heavy, but I realize that the author is writing from that standpoint and has good advice in those aspects. So, I’ll be searching for another book, and I’ll be begging for handling lessons from my neighbor or one of DH’s college buddies.

These donkeys just won't quit picking on the chickens

We have a chicken (one of the Barred Rocks) who isn't getting along too well--she doesn't seem sick, but she's got a hitch in her get-along, and it's freaking the others out enough that they've pecked away nearly half her comb. So, we put her in the semi-obvious place: the old rabbit hutch GranR had given us. Not 3 hours later, I looked out the sliding glass door into the backyard and found that the hutch had rotated 90 degrees. The theory is that the donkeys shoved it around in order to eat the grain I'd put in there. When DH gets a chance, he will move the hutch into Boudeaux's pen (I'll try to help, but I'm not the buff 19 I used to be).

Yesterday, while my husband was out checking the viability of said hutch move, he discovered a huge stash of eggs under one of our brush piles. Since we've no way of knowing how long they've been there, we can't sell them. And, color me wimpy, but I'm not brave enough to try using them ourselves. We've tried candling before, and we aren't very good at it (we lost 2 chicks that way). So, since we have a chicken that was isolated anyway (and I'll assume she has nothing better to do), I built a nest with shredded newspaper (hay is $8.50 a bale here, and too expensive to use for nesting), and moved the eggs in. There's 26, and I don't think she'll be able to hatch all of them, but we'll give it a try.

The lesson here is that I need to get out more, and scope out chicken-friendly egg-hiding places so this doesn't happen again.

DestructoDonkey

A few weeks back, the donkeys busted through one side of the chicken yard. Steve hasn't been able to make the time to nail a new board up, so we've lived with the chickens being able to let themselves out in the morning. What we didn't realize was that Serenity is able to crawl under the wire and help herself to the corn and oats that I throw out for scratch. After a few incidences of chasing her out of the yard, we've decided that we'll just have to confine all chicken feed to the inside of their coop until we can design and build the new setup (one with real roosts, storage for food, nests, and a hover for chicks). We're getting some good ideas from How to Build Animal Housing by Carol Ekarius. If we go with a full-fledged coop, we will probably make it part of the barn/complex that is part of the Grand Plan.

We wanted chicks last spring, but I wasn't able to get my act together enough to buy an incubator and make space for the chicks. Our last attempt to expand our flock was sheer accident--I won't repeat the story here. In short, it didn't do much to improve our operation (we were hoping to have fryers by now). Once I get my raised beds going, I think I'll get that incubator, clean out the old camping bin, and raise us some more babies.