I can’t help it. As hard as I try to be a hopeless romantic, I just cannot divorce myself from the years of my life spent in the pursuit of scientific reasoning.
I’m much more comfortable observing and thinking than (gasp!) feeling.
This is part of the reason I like to watch
….the goats giving birth, that is.
Watching the process surely provides evidence that “survival of the fittest” is at play.
Why does an expectant mother move to a solitary corner of the barn? To keep her new babies from being trampled by the herd.
Why do most goats give births to multiples? To ensure preservation of the genetic line given the tenuous nature of giving birth “in the wild”.
Why do new mothers hungrily eat their own afterbirth? It’s a readily available source of good protein that will help them recover from the delivery and maintain strength for nursing their offspring.
It is amazing how “mechanical” each birth seems to be, no matter the age or the experience of the mother. Nearly identical each time.
But as clinical and as matter-of-fact each of these deliveries tend to be, there’s an inexplicable sense of awe, wonder, mystery and miracle that cannot suppress the romantic notion that we are all lucky to be alive.
Even though I can “explain” the millions of baby goat kisses bestowed on me as just a natural rooting reflex, a quest to find the closest source of nourishment, I choose not to.
At this time each year, I enter another stage of evolution, too.
Learn more about the birthing season at Beekman 1802. Click here.