I’m back out here in Monterey for the busy time of kidding season at the goat farm. I feel grateful to have the time and space to set up my life so I can spend it where my heart desires. What better way to welcome in this spring than watching goats use their innate intelligence and natural instincts while giving birth?
The excitement and excessive exertion of energy during kidding season creates an abrupt transition from winter to spring because I am forced out of my head and into the rhythms of nature. It has been a long and reflective winter. Like the baby goat inside its mother’s womb, I’m not quit sure if I’m ready to leave the warmth and comfort, but I have no choice. Soon enough, I will have to the leave the chair next to the wood stove and venture out into the cold damp air of late March.
The ground is soggy beneath my muck boots. Mud season is inevitable as the snow melts away. The air tastes sweet like the sap running through the trees. I fill my lungs to capacity while tromping through the woods following the tracks of turkey, deer, and coyote. Rivers and streams swell. Robins and red wing blackbirds make their first appearances back from the South. Seventy baby goats to feed three times a day. Warm slow cooked meaty soups to look forward to after mucking the barn.