I should have known that Abigail's kidding experience was too simple. The birth itself went fine and our doe clearly bonded with her kid...but she really, really didn't want to let him nurse. On the first day, once the placenta was gone and life in the coop had returned to normal, I kept checking in and seeing the kid head for the udder...then Abigail would run in the other direction. A search of the internet suggested that this behavior is distressingly common, and that the solution is either to bottle raise the kid (not our goal) or to stick mom in the milking stanchion in order to give the kid an opportunity to drink.

When the kid was six hours old, I decided to try the stanchion trick. The result? Complete and utter chaos. I tried to leave Artemesia in the coop and to carry the kid while walking Abigail to the porch, but our doe seemed more concerned about leaving her herd mate than she was about the location of her kid. After much screaming (Abigail and Artemesia --- I refrained, despite my frustration), we went back to collect the doeling and all four of us (plus Lucy) ended up on the porch.

Lucy was intrigued by the new creature in my arms, Artemesia figured out that by jumping up on top of the picnic table she could stick her nose in the bag of alfalfa pellets, and Abigail realized that she could yank her neck right out of the stanchion. Nearly in tears, I ran to get backup.

"You should have called me sooner," said Mark, taking in the drama unfolding in front of him. He tied up Lucy and Artemesia, then grabbed Abigail's hind leg while I pinned our doe against the wall. That left each human with one free hand, which we used to push the befuddled kid up against the nipple. And, to everyone's relief, he drank...and drank...and drank.

Mark and I considered a second feeding that day, but it gets dark so early at this time of year, and I wasn't sure that Abigail would have produced any new milk in two hours. So we left her until morning, at which point I made the same mistake all over again. I was worried and went up to check on the goats at 7:30 while Mark was still asleep, and seeing the kid shivering in 14-degree weather, I figured that surely I could repeat the feeding on my own this time around. To cut a long story short, chaos reigned again, this time with Abigail discovering a new trick --- lying down in the milking stanchion, never mind that the kid's head was underneath her belly. But I was finally able to tie up the two troublemakers (Lucy and Artemesia), to heft Abigail's belly up in one arm, and to stick the kid onto a nipple with the other.

Meanwhile, I decided that with only one kid, Abigail's udder wasn't getting all the way cleared out, which probably kept the flesh perennially tender, so I pulled out our milking machine and set it to sucking colostrum out of the other teat. I have to say --- that milking machine is a life saver. I was able to hold Abigail up, keep the kid's mouth on the nipple (he isn't too bright), and milk the second teat all with my two hands. When Mark showed up, everything was under control (even though, once again, he was right --- I should have called him sooner).

Since then, Abigail still hasn't let the kid drink on his own, but things have gotten much smoother. After his fourth real feeding, the kid finally started jumping around and acting like a baby goat should, which was a huge relief. Meanwhile, Abigail still requires an admonishing hold around her hind leg at first, but she soon settles into the stanchion (which we've relocated to the kidding stall to make crowd control simpler). Even Artemesia has figured out her role --- cleaning up any tidbits Abigail leaves behind once the milking is done.

For the next few days, we'll stick to thrice-daily feedings, but by the end of the week I hope to attain a morning and evening schedule as if we were milking. And maybe by then Abigail will be making enough milk to share with us as well as her kid.