I showed a picture of Rocky but forget to mention that he got born. Rocky is my daughter Blue Umbrella's son. He is a doll.
His mother has broken with the family tradition of laissez faire parenting developed by me and refined to perfection by my daughter Hannah Belle. Blue follows Rocky everywhere, bleating and squeaking in consternation if he gets more than three feet away from her. Luckily it isn't stifling him - he goes where he pleases.
Also, Xie Xie's kids got born and since they are almost the last of the big babies, they got the worst names because the farmer runs out and just uses any name that comes to hand "until we think of something better." So their names are Buddy and Binky. Often good names don't stick but the bad names almost always do.
Betsy's babies are due any day and I truly feel sorry for them, their names will almost certainly be Billy and Nanny. Whether or not they are a boy and girl. There ought to be a law.
Speaking of crimes against goats, I was shocked to see this video.
I thought it was bad enough here when they tried to make me carry a pack on the trail.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Sunday, May 18, 2008
The Wind From the West
Well yesterday it was hot, way too hot. We could tell it was too hot because all of the fat ponies crowded into their shed for shade. They drank two bathtubs full of water between them. Also we could tell it was too hot because Aggie and Xtra Joy were panting with their tongues hanging out. When it gets too hot too fast sometimes their brains shrink and they forget how to drink water. It's sad.
The farmer came down and yelled at them: "Drink some water!"
This didn't make them any smarter so they got sprayed with the hose, which seemed to awaken one or two brain cells.
Anyway it was hot, way too hot, and that was because the wind had turned around and came from the East. The farmer hates the wind from the East. It brings the hot air from Eastern Washington, and sometimes it brings wicked storms and sometimes when the wind is from the East it will all of a sudden stop blowing and then there is an eerie dead calm in the air like the end of the world and the farmer hates that. When we had our big earthquake a few years ago there was a little wind from the East and then it stopped and it almost seemed like Time had stopped with it.
And sometimes the East Wind vacuums up the awful California weather, and that is what happened this time. Anyway, it's an ill wind, and the only good it brings is that it makes the grass grow.
So all day the farmer was grumpy and looking at the things that needed to be done on such a sunny day but really how could they be done when it was so hot.
And then around 7 the wind turned around and began to blow from the West. The blessed blessed delicious wind from the West, our wind, and the marine layer came back and settled over our little valley, and Xtra Joy and Aggie were able to shut their pie-holes, and the horses came back out doubletime to catch up on the grass they had accidentally allowed to grow, and Time started up again.
Thank you, West Wind!
The farmer came down and yelled at them: "Drink some water!"
This didn't make them any smarter so they got sprayed with the hose, which seemed to awaken one or two brain cells.
Anyway it was hot, way too hot, and that was because the wind had turned around and came from the East. The farmer hates the wind from the East. It brings the hot air from Eastern Washington, and sometimes it brings wicked storms and sometimes when the wind is from the East it will all of a sudden stop blowing and then there is an eerie dead calm in the air like the end of the world and the farmer hates that. When we had our big earthquake a few years ago there was a little wind from the East and then it stopped and it almost seemed like Time had stopped with it.
And sometimes the East Wind vacuums up the awful California weather, and that is what happened this time. Anyway, it's an ill wind, and the only good it brings is that it makes the grass grow.
So all day the farmer was grumpy and looking at the things that needed to be done on such a sunny day but really how could they be done when it was so hot.
And then around 7 the wind turned around and began to blow from the West. The blessed blessed delicious wind from the West, our wind, and the marine layer came back and settled over our little valley, and Xtra Joy and Aggie were able to shut their pie-holes, and the horses came back out doubletime to catch up on the grass they had accidentally allowed to grow, and Time started up again.
Thank you, West Wind!
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Kids Cannot Live By Milk Alone
On Monday Xie Xie had her babies, a buckling and a doeling. Xie Xie is Big Orange's twin. They are Betsy's daughters. No one had ever seen any babies born in this family because they always came out so fast: Betsy had Big Orange and Xie Xie between two commercial breaks on American Idol.
And even though Big Orange was on a strict maternity watch, she had her babies when the farmer went to answer the phone. So Xie Xie was whisked into the kidding stall at the first cross-eyed look she gave the farmer, and the farmer sat down with a book.
Sure enough, before the farmer could finish reading even one chapter, out popped two kids. Both are kind of odd-looking, with curly hair, and little roan patches mixed with their Lamancha classic black-and-tan coloring. They are very good babies and they sleep all through the night, but yesterday the little girl got upset and cried off and on for hours even though she was full.
These babies are in a new puppy pen, about eight square feet, instead of the rubbermaid tubs the newborns usually go into for the first couple of days. They like it a lot better - they can walk around more, and they can see out.
But it is also easy to just feed them inside the pen, and so the farmer was just giving them their bottle without picking them up and taking them out.
Anyway the little girl started crying and didn't want a bottle and didn't settle down, and the dim-witted farmer said, "uh-oh, another angry baby, just like Tangy."
The little girl kept crying, sort of wistfully, and finally after a couple of hours the dim-witted farmer picked her up. She stopped crying immediately.
"Isn't that funny," the dim-witted farmer said, and put her back down. She started crying again. The farmer picked her up, and she stopped. The farmer cuddled her and petted her, and she immediately went to sleep.
"Oh, I see," the farmer finally said. Duh, I thought to myself.
Now the farmer makes sure to pick them up and cuddle them at feeding time. And they don't cry any more, unless they are hungry.
And even though Big Orange was on a strict maternity watch, she had her babies when the farmer went to answer the phone. So Xie Xie was whisked into the kidding stall at the first cross-eyed look she gave the farmer, and the farmer sat down with a book.
Sure enough, before the farmer could finish reading even one chapter, out popped two kids. Both are kind of odd-looking, with curly hair, and little roan patches mixed with their Lamancha classic black-and-tan coloring. They are very good babies and they sleep all through the night, but yesterday the little girl got upset and cried off and on for hours even though she was full.
These babies are in a new puppy pen, about eight square feet, instead of the rubbermaid tubs the newborns usually go into for the first couple of days. They like it a lot better - they can walk around more, and they can see out.
But it is also easy to just feed them inside the pen, and so the farmer was just giving them their bottle without picking them up and taking them out.
Anyway the little girl started crying and didn't want a bottle and didn't settle down, and the dim-witted farmer said, "uh-oh, another angry baby, just like Tangy."
The little girl kept crying, sort of wistfully, and finally after a couple of hours the dim-witted farmer picked her up. She stopped crying immediately.
"Isn't that funny," the dim-witted farmer said, and put her back down. She started crying again. The farmer picked her up, and she stopped. The farmer cuddled her and petted her, and she immediately went to sleep.
"Oh, I see," the farmer finally said. Duh, I thought to myself.
Now the farmer makes sure to pick them up and cuddle them at feeding time. And they don't cry any more, unless they are hungry.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Stop Somewhere
Sometimes in life you will lose one of your dear friends. And then for a long time you will think of your friend and you will be filled with sadness.
But then a day will come when you think about your friend unexpectedly and you can't help but laugh.
Yesterday the farmer was angry when all the down-below girls, led by Hannah Belle, managed to get the pasture gate open and stampeded the big barn, skipping and hopping and raising Cain with the milkers.
A Sharks-and-Jets brawl broke out, with the big milkers taking offense at the mere presence of Nigerians and minis in their high-and-mighty midst. Eo (Mussolini) and Brandy (Tony Soprano) went head to head, and Breezy and Winnie paired off, and several others banged heads while Hannah Belle and I scouted the area thoroughly for unattended grain or alfalfa.
Well the farmer wasn't in a mood for it and so there was a lot of yelling and hollering and improbable threats and eventually the farmer got everyone back in except Mabel. Now Mabel is a Loony Tune - you can tell by the way her eyeballs spin counterclockwise when she gets what she thinks is an idea.
So everyone was back in except Mabel, who didn't really want to do anything or go anywhere, just wanted to be contrary. Mabel commenced head faking and putting spin moves on the farmer, acting squirrelly as all get out, even actually pretending she was interested in Wendell the pest, who was running a fifty foot circle around the whole production because he always likes to try to draw attention to himself and his foolish doggy activities.
"Look at me," his little bug-eyed expression said, "don't I look like a border collie? Isn't it clever what I'm doing?"
Mabel pretended to be interested, and turned a smaller circle inside Wendell's circle, but kept an eye on the farmer just to see what would happen, and if the farmer would keep trying to catch her.
But the farmer was fed up and said, "Fine, stay out here," and turned to go up to the barn.
Mabel was terribly disappointed and ran to catch up with the farmer, who wasn't looking at her any more, and by the time the farmer got to the upper gate, Mabel was right behind and stuck her nose in the farmer's pocket.
The farmer looked down at Mabel with surprise and all of a sudden started laughing and laughing in spite of having been in an utterly black mood. Anybody else would think the farmer was crazy, which is probably true, but I happen to know that this little trick was a maneuver patented by Crazy Mabel's crazy mother April, who could never be caught if you wanted to catch her, but who couldn't stand not to be caught if you were sincerely ignoring her.
The farmer patted Mabel a few times, still laughing, and then realized that it would be a good idea to put Mabel back in the down-below pasture since she had basically turned herself in, and reached out - yes, just a split second too late - to grab Mabel's collar.
Mabel went pronging and dancing and bucking away, turning sideways to the hill to make her leaps look crazier, and Wendell re-commenced his fifty foot circle which had been interrupted for a panting timeout, and the farmer started laughing again.
But then a day will come when you think about your friend unexpectedly and you can't help but laugh.
Yesterday the farmer was angry when all the down-below girls, led by Hannah Belle, managed to get the pasture gate open and stampeded the big barn, skipping and hopping and raising Cain with the milkers.
A Sharks-and-Jets brawl broke out, with the big milkers taking offense at the mere presence of Nigerians and minis in their high-and-mighty midst. Eo (Mussolini) and Brandy (Tony Soprano) went head to head, and Breezy and Winnie paired off, and several others banged heads while Hannah Belle and I scouted the area thoroughly for unattended grain or alfalfa.
Well the farmer wasn't in a mood for it and so there was a lot of yelling and hollering and improbable threats and eventually the farmer got everyone back in except Mabel. Now Mabel is a Loony Tune - you can tell by the way her eyeballs spin counterclockwise when she gets what she thinks is an idea.
So everyone was back in except Mabel, who didn't really want to do anything or go anywhere, just wanted to be contrary. Mabel commenced head faking and putting spin moves on the farmer, acting squirrelly as all get out, even actually pretending she was interested in Wendell the pest, who was running a fifty foot circle around the whole production because he always likes to try to draw attention to himself and his foolish doggy activities.
"Look at me," his little bug-eyed expression said, "don't I look like a border collie? Isn't it clever what I'm doing?"
Mabel pretended to be interested, and turned a smaller circle inside Wendell's circle, but kept an eye on the farmer just to see what would happen, and if the farmer would keep trying to catch her.
But the farmer was fed up and said, "Fine, stay out here," and turned to go up to the barn.
Mabel was terribly disappointed and ran to catch up with the farmer, who wasn't looking at her any more, and by the time the farmer got to the upper gate, Mabel was right behind and stuck her nose in the farmer's pocket.
The farmer looked down at Mabel with surprise and all of a sudden started laughing and laughing in spite of having been in an utterly black mood. Anybody else would think the farmer was crazy, which is probably true, but I happen to know that this little trick was a maneuver patented by Crazy Mabel's crazy mother April, who could never be caught if you wanted to catch her, but who couldn't stand not to be caught if you were sincerely ignoring her.
The farmer patted Mabel a few times, still laughing, and then realized that it would be a good idea to put Mabel back in the down-below pasture since she had basically turned herself in, and reached out - yes, just a split second too late - to grab Mabel's collar.
Mabel went pronging and dancing and bucking away, turning sideways to the hill to make her leaps look crazier, and Wendell re-commenced his fifty foot circle which had been interrupted for a panting timeout, and the farmer started laughing again.
Saturday, May 03, 2008
Thursday, May 01, 2008
Winnie, Jr.
Winnie, Jr. gets her cast off today. We are keeping our fingers crossed that her broken leg will be mended when it comes out of all its grubby wrappings. Not that having a broken leg has stopped her from becoming king of the babies.
Scarborough Fairgoers
Well, here are some photos of Parsley and Sage, Boo's kids born last Thursday. I don't know, I guess they are kind of cute. We thought Rosemary and Thyme might also be aboard the SS Boo, but apparently there was just a lot of extra luggage in the hold. So only Parsley and Sage came down the gangplank in the end.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Skin Deep
Well, after a few years of seeing baby goats born every year you start to notice the family traits. All of my offspring are beautiful and smart, for example. In Brandy's LaMancha kingpin family, many of the kids have the same habit: they like to stand at the door and grab the sliding bolt with their teeth, sliding the bolt back and forth incessantly so that it makes a clacking sound.
Wronny will slide the bolt until the farmer yells at her to stop. You don't even notice the bolt noise any more until you hear the farmer yelling: "Knock it off, Wronny!" The farmer doesn't even look to see who's doing it. When it goes on forever like that, it's always Wronny.
The Nubians are universally puzzled. Their puzzlement spans all the generations.
In the April family, there is never a generation that goes by that at least one kid doesn't get April's beautiful face. First Mabel had it, then Cammy had it, then Biscuit had it, and this year little pink Hermy has it.
And that brings us to the exception that may or may not prove the rule, although we are starting to think there may not be any rules. But anyway: Big Orange.
Big Orange is tall and elegant and orange and shy and retiring and unfailingly sweet. She is a pacifist, above all. She is the Gandhi of goats. Whenever there is any kind of line she runs immediately to the end of it; she would never think of cutting in front of anyone.
This morning, Winnie, who thinks she is all that and likes to swagger around pushing everyone out of her way even when she isn't going anywhere, came up to Big Orange and stood in front of her and for some reason didn't t-bone Big Orange but instead got a sleepy look.
Big Orange kindly began kissing Winnie's head and cleaning the top of it in a cheerful and solicitous manner, even though 99% of the time Winnie only comes up to Big Orange because she is planning to take her lunch money.
Anyway, Big Orange is a saint.
Now Big Orange had a daughter, a little orange daughter that we are calling Tangerine right now while we mull over some of the excellent name suggestions we have received. Tangerine looks just like Big Orange. She is slightly less orange, and has slightly shorter ears, but really those are the only differences. Any person off the street would be able to walk in here and pick out Tangerine as Big Orange's daughter.
But Tangerine is the OPPOSITE of Big Orange. Tangerine is the angriest baby goat in the world. She is like one of those terrifying human babies that people have sometimes where everyone tiptoes around looking ashen and whispering, "don't wake the baby! Please GOD, don't wake the baby!"
When the farmer goes out in the morning with bucket of milk for the big babies, Tangerine - who is the smallest of the big babies - comes like a BAT OUT OF HELL for the bucket, shrieking the whole way like a fire engine and flinging her body against any obstacle, animate or inanimate, that gets in her way.
Almost entirely because of Tangerine, the big babies are now referred to as The Piranhas. When she isn't hungry, or shouldn't be hungry because her belly is like a beach ball, Tangerine still shrieks like a fire engine whenever she sees a human or any other entity she thinks might be capable of milk propulsion. We cannot figure out why, but she seems to think she can somehow stockpile milk for future use, and that screaming is the best way to make powerful friends.
When in the few moments a day she overcomes her milk monomania, she is gregarious to the point of being annoying, chewing hair, lap hogging, prancing and dancing and making a show of herself. Again, the opposite of her mother.
Oh well. What can you do? Sometimes the orange is truly orange and sometimes the orange is only skin deep.
Wronny will slide the bolt until the farmer yells at her to stop. You don't even notice the bolt noise any more until you hear the farmer yelling: "Knock it off, Wronny!" The farmer doesn't even look to see who's doing it. When it goes on forever like that, it's always Wronny.
The Nubians are universally puzzled. Their puzzlement spans all the generations.
In the April family, there is never a generation that goes by that at least one kid doesn't get April's beautiful face. First Mabel had it, then Cammy had it, then Biscuit had it, and this year little pink Hermy has it.
And that brings us to the exception that may or may not prove the rule, although we are starting to think there may not be any rules. But anyway: Big Orange.
Big Orange is tall and elegant and orange and shy and retiring and unfailingly sweet. She is a pacifist, above all. She is the Gandhi of goats. Whenever there is any kind of line she runs immediately to the end of it; she would never think of cutting in front of anyone.
This morning, Winnie, who thinks she is all that and likes to swagger around pushing everyone out of her way even when she isn't going anywhere, came up to Big Orange and stood in front of her and for some reason didn't t-bone Big Orange but instead got a sleepy look.
Big Orange kindly began kissing Winnie's head and cleaning the top of it in a cheerful and solicitous manner, even though 99% of the time Winnie only comes up to Big Orange because she is planning to take her lunch money.
Anyway, Big Orange is a saint.
Now Big Orange had a daughter, a little orange daughter that we are calling Tangerine right now while we mull over some of the excellent name suggestions we have received. Tangerine looks just like Big Orange. She is slightly less orange, and has slightly shorter ears, but really those are the only differences. Any person off the street would be able to walk in here and pick out Tangerine as Big Orange's daughter.
But Tangerine is the OPPOSITE of Big Orange. Tangerine is the angriest baby goat in the world. She is like one of those terrifying human babies that people have sometimes where everyone tiptoes around looking ashen and whispering, "don't wake the baby! Please GOD, don't wake the baby!"
When the farmer goes out in the morning with bucket of milk for the big babies, Tangerine - who is the smallest of the big babies - comes like a BAT OUT OF HELL for the bucket, shrieking the whole way like a fire engine and flinging her body against any obstacle, animate or inanimate, that gets in her way.
Almost entirely because of Tangerine, the big babies are now referred to as The Piranhas. When she isn't hungry, or shouldn't be hungry because her belly is like a beach ball, Tangerine still shrieks like a fire engine whenever she sees a human or any other entity she thinks might be capable of milk propulsion. We cannot figure out why, but she seems to think she can somehow stockpile milk for future use, and that screaming is the best way to make powerful friends.
When in the few moments a day she overcomes her milk monomania, she is gregarious to the point of being annoying, chewing hair, lap hogging, prancing and dancing and making a show of herself. Again, the opposite of her mother.
Oh well. What can you do? Sometimes the orange is truly orange and sometimes the orange is only skin deep.
Friday, April 25, 2008
All Ashore
Well the SS Boo finally limped into harbor last night, late as usual and at the most inconvenient time imaginable. The farmer had surmised from the size of the cargo hold that there might be about 15 kids aboard, but in the end only two "miniature" Nubians toddled ashore.
Both are very pretty, like their mother. Both have frosted ears, like their mother. Both are fat and opinionated, and see if you can finish this sentence.
Anyway in unrelated news there was another Lamancha-Nubian-Nigerian IQ demonstration yesterday. The indoor kids (Winnie, Jr. with the broken leg, Tangerine, Widget, Hermy, Augustine, and Julius) played in their stall, where Winnie, Jr., being the biggest, is the king of the babies, a job she loves. Three of the indoor babies (Win, Tangerine, and Widget) are bottle babies. The other three are dam-raised.
Yesterday the bottle babies made the switch from the tiny pop-bottle nipple to the baby bucket, which has a bigger nipple and doesn't work in quite the same way. So sometimes it takes a while to catch on. Winnie, Jr. of course, being a purebred Lamancha, got it right away. Tangerine, being 7/8ths LaMancha, didn't have too much trouble but had to cry and sputter melodramatically a few times for effect.
Widget, being both a boy and 1/8th Nubian, was rather stumped, and jabbed his head desperately against the bucket, perhaps hoping to knock the milk out. To his credit, unlike a full-blown Nubian, he seemed to know that there was milk in there. He just couldn't figure out how to get it out.
Anyway, that was all about to be expected. What wasn't expected was that the rotund mini-Manchas (half Nigerian, half LaMancha) - Hermy, Augustine, and Julius - would watch for a few minutes, taking some simple mental notes, then scurry over as soon as the nipples were vacated and help themself to extra milk.
Hermy led the way.
Bottle baby, schmottle baby.
Both are very pretty, like their mother. Both have frosted ears, like their mother. Both are fat and opinionated, and see if you can finish this sentence.
Anyway in unrelated news there was another Lamancha-Nubian-Nigerian IQ demonstration yesterday. The indoor kids (Winnie, Jr. with the broken leg, Tangerine, Widget, Hermy, Augustine, and Julius) played in their stall, where Winnie, Jr., being the biggest, is the king of the babies, a job she loves. Three of the indoor babies (Win, Tangerine, and Widget) are bottle babies. The other three are dam-raised.
Yesterday the bottle babies made the switch from the tiny pop-bottle nipple to the baby bucket, which has a bigger nipple and doesn't work in quite the same way. So sometimes it takes a while to catch on. Winnie, Jr. of course, being a purebred Lamancha, got it right away. Tangerine, being 7/8ths LaMancha, didn't have too much trouble but had to cry and sputter melodramatically a few times for effect.
Widget, being both a boy and 1/8th Nubian, was rather stumped, and jabbed his head desperately against the bucket, perhaps hoping to knock the milk out. To his credit, unlike a full-blown Nubian, he seemed to know that there was milk in there. He just couldn't figure out how to get it out.
Anyway, that was all about to be expected. What wasn't expected was that the rotund mini-Manchas (half Nigerian, half LaMancha) - Hermy, Augustine, and Julius - would watch for a few minutes, taking some simple mental notes, then scurry over as soon as the nipples were vacated and help themself to extra milk.
Hermy led the way.
Bottle baby, schmottle baby.
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