I got a Starbucks card for Christmas from the farmer's father and today I used up the last bit of it with my final pumpkin scone. I employed my patented 'Shaq' maneuver to box greedy Melly out (it was pretty easy with her bad leg). She didn't get even a crumb.
All in all, very gratifying.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
Baby Belle's Helpful Hints
As you know Miss Melly the 3-legged goat has been sharing my “private” stall after her accident. This has given me an opportunity to spend some time with her. In the spirit of helpfulness I would like to make some suggestions which may allow her to improve the serious deficiencies in her personality, hygiene, grooming, and behavior patterns. I have neither the time nor the space to detail all of her flaws, so I will just touch on a few of the most nettlesome.
1. The Beard. As you know I am universally admired for my magnificent snowy beard. Melly’s beard on the other hand is the type of beard which if anyone even noticed it they would say, “oh, are you trying to grow a beard?”
Scraggly is one word that springs to mind. Sad perhaps would be another.
The words which definitely don’t leap to mind are “magnificent” and “snowy.” My suggestion would be that Melly should approach the LaMancha doelings – any one of them would be happy to chew it off entirely. Winnie, Jr., for example just yesterday ate a piece of weather stripping twice the size of Melly’s “beard” in a matter of seconds.
2. Food hogging. Miss Melly is a food hog. When the food comes she acts as if it all for her, when in fact it is my food which I am of course willing to share as soon as I have finished eating everything I want. Not to mention that it is my stall and she is a guest. I would refer her to Miss Manners (waiting for hostess, page 147), who describes with elegant simplicity the sorts of minimal table manners required in contemporary polite society.
3. Ear biting. Melly is an ear biter, an unfortunate habit she acquired after spending too much time with the Toggs and mini-Toggs. Suppose you are eating your dinner in your private home and one of your so-called guests bites your ears in an attempt to get you to conclude your repast so that they may hog your food (see above.) Just imagine that scenario. There is really only one civilized solution to this problem: stop it.
4. The Water Bucket. Every day Melly tips over the water bucket. Why?
5. Heat. As every goat knows, it is only polite to bundle up together at night for heat. If you don’t like your co-sleeper(s), you can go head to tail instead of the friendly method – head to head with one neck draped over the other in the nesting pattern preferred by babies and family members. Melly makes no attempt to do this.
Was she born in a barn? YES, but so was I, and my manners are exquisite. Join me in exhorting her to improve her deplorable behavior. The Bush Years are over, Melly. It is time for a return to decorum.
1. The Beard. As you know I am universally admired for my magnificent snowy beard. Melly’s beard on the other hand is the type of beard which if anyone even noticed it they would say, “oh, are you trying to grow a beard?”
Scraggly is one word that springs to mind. Sad perhaps would be another.
The words which definitely don’t leap to mind are “magnificent” and “snowy.” My suggestion would be that Melly should approach the LaMancha doelings – any one of them would be happy to chew it off entirely. Winnie, Jr., for example just yesterday ate a piece of weather stripping twice the size of Melly’s “beard” in a matter of seconds.
2. Food hogging. Miss Melly is a food hog. When the food comes she acts as if it all for her, when in fact it is my food which I am of course willing to share as soon as I have finished eating everything I want. Not to mention that it is my stall and she is a guest. I would refer her to Miss Manners (waiting for hostess, page 147), who describes with elegant simplicity the sorts of minimal table manners required in contemporary polite society.
3. Ear biting. Melly is an ear biter, an unfortunate habit she acquired after spending too much time with the Toggs and mini-Toggs. Suppose you are eating your dinner in your private home and one of your so-called guests bites your ears in an attempt to get you to conclude your repast so that they may hog your food (see above.) Just imagine that scenario. There is really only one civilized solution to this problem: stop it.
4. The Water Bucket. Every day Melly tips over the water bucket. Why?
5. Heat. As every goat knows, it is only polite to bundle up together at night for heat. If you don’t like your co-sleeper(s), you can go head to tail instead of the friendly method – head to head with one neck draped over the other in the nesting pattern preferred by babies and family members. Melly makes no attempt to do this.
Was she born in a barn? YES, but so was I, and my manners are exquisite. Join me in exhorting her to improve her deplorable behavior. The Bush Years are over, Melly. It is time for a return to decorum.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Trouble Loves Company
My daughter Hannah Belle and Breezy's daughter Miss Melly used to go around getting in trouble together when they were kids. They hopped a lot of fences and stole a lot of grain that didn't belong to them. They just laughed when they got lectures from the farmer.
Because of those two, we had to switch all our new fencing to five foot fencing instead of four foot.
Anyway, Hannah Belle learned her lesson one day: she tried to jump a fence and didn't make it over. Her foot caught on the top wire and she was left swinging upside down about a foot off the ground. Well, that day was one of the luckiest days of her life because she did it right in front of the farmer and the farmer freed her within a minute or two and all that happened was she limped around for a day or two.
And after that she learned her lesson. She doesn't jump wire fences any more. She specializes in wood fences and panel gates, and fat as she is she has perfected a limbo-like maneuver that will get her through just about any five panel gate from any farm store in the country. It is something to see.
It saves a lot of jumping, and it makes sense. Why go over the gate when you can go through? That's what they were designed for, after all.
Anyway, Mel had much the same experience when she was a kid, except she broke her leg on her jumping maneuver. It was a clean break and it healed with no problems, and we thought she too had learned her lesson.
No. Yesterday she pulled the same bone-headed ploy and wound up with a leg caught in the fence. No one knows when it happened, but by the time the farmer got home and found her, she had been there so long that she wasn't even crying any more, just shaking, standing on her two front legs. Luckily she got far enough over that she was able to hold most of her weight on her front legs. One of the back legs was caught about four feet off the ground, with a deep cut around the ankle where the wire wrapped tight.
The farmer cut her out and gave her some medicine and now guess who I have for a roommate in my supposed-to-be-private stall?
A three-legged nitwit. Somebody tell me why this goat is getting fig newtons and room service instead of a lecture? Hello? The Nubians have more sense than this, for pity's sake.
Because of those two, we had to switch all our new fencing to five foot fencing instead of four foot.
Anyway, Hannah Belle learned her lesson one day: she tried to jump a fence and didn't make it over. Her foot caught on the top wire and she was left swinging upside down about a foot off the ground. Well, that day was one of the luckiest days of her life because she did it right in front of the farmer and the farmer freed her within a minute or two and all that happened was she limped around for a day or two.
And after that she learned her lesson. She doesn't jump wire fences any more. She specializes in wood fences and panel gates, and fat as she is she has perfected a limbo-like maneuver that will get her through just about any five panel gate from any farm store in the country. It is something to see.
It saves a lot of jumping, and it makes sense. Why go over the gate when you can go through? That's what they were designed for, after all.
Anyway, Mel had much the same experience when she was a kid, except she broke her leg on her jumping maneuver. It was a clean break and it healed with no problems, and we thought she too had learned her lesson.
No. Yesterday she pulled the same bone-headed ploy and wound up with a leg caught in the fence. No one knows when it happened, but by the time the farmer got home and found her, she had been there so long that she wasn't even crying any more, just shaking, standing on her two front legs. Luckily she got far enough over that she was able to hold most of her weight on her front legs. One of the back legs was caught about four feet off the ground, with a deep cut around the ankle where the wire wrapped tight.
The farmer cut her out and gave her some medicine and now guess who I have for a roommate in my supposed-to-be-private stall?
A three-legged nitwit. Somebody tell me why this goat is getting fig newtons and room service instead of a lecture? Hello? The Nubians have more sense than this, for pity's sake.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Turning on the Heat
Well some of you may remember my daughter Hannah Belle. She is known for her safecracking bail-jumping troublemaking ways. The fence has not been built that will hold her. She has been a very bad girl since she was very small; when she was about a week old she snuck down into the apple pasture, found a hole in the fence, scampered through, and went to sit in the neighbor's lap.
The neighbor was digging postholes, and had sat down in the field to take a rest. The farmer looked high and low all through the barn, under the cabana, inside the buck pens, yelling for Hannah Belle the whole time.
Anyway she was asleep in the neighbor's lap. He didn't seem to want to give her back, either, which was odd.
Well lately I have been under the weather so I have my own stall. It is a private stall, as I mentioned earlier, and since I got Mabel kicked out no one has bothered me. It's nice having a private stall.
But sometimes it's a little lonely, and sometimes it's a little chilly even with my new jacket.
Anyway yesterday Hannah Belle waited for the farmer to go in, then jumped over the wall in the milker stall into the LaMancha doe kid stall, and over that into the aisle of the barn.
Then, instead of knocking all the grain bins over like she usually does, she escaped into my stall. The farmer came out at bedtime and looked at her and didn't say anything.
Then this morning the farmer came out and she was still in with me. It is a lot warmer with a nice fat daughter sleeping next to you. Consider that if you ever decide to sleep in a barn in January.
"You are a good daughter," the farmer said, and gave Hannah Belle an animal cracker, which she is completely banned from having because she is so fat and so good at stealing grain.
The neighbor was digging postholes, and had sat down in the field to take a rest. The farmer looked high and low all through the barn, under the cabana, inside the buck pens, yelling for Hannah Belle the whole time.
Anyway she was asleep in the neighbor's lap. He didn't seem to want to give her back, either, which was odd.
Well lately I have been under the weather so I have my own stall. It is a private stall, as I mentioned earlier, and since I got Mabel kicked out no one has bothered me. It's nice having a private stall.
But sometimes it's a little lonely, and sometimes it's a little chilly even with my new jacket.
Anyway yesterday Hannah Belle waited for the farmer to go in, then jumped over the wall in the milker stall into the LaMancha doe kid stall, and over that into the aisle of the barn.
Then, instead of knocking all the grain bins over like she usually does, she escaped into my stall. The farmer came out at bedtime and looked at her and didn't say anything.
Then this morning the farmer came out and she was still in with me. It is a lot warmer with a nice fat daughter sleeping next to you. Consider that if you ever decide to sleep in a barn in January.
"You are a good daughter," the farmer said, and gave Hannah Belle an animal cracker, which she is completely banned from having because she is so fat and so good at stealing grain.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Today
Today was a nice day but a tad nippy, so I wore my jacket (see previous post).
I roamed about doing as I pleased. At bedtime I got Mabel the mini-Mancha booted out of my private stall where she was sojourning for a couple of days while she waits for her turn in the honeymoon suite.
She is not as bad as some of the full-size LaManchas (Winnie), but I'm sorry, does the word "private" not mean anything any more?
I signaled discreetly to the manager to have her removed when she started eating my special hay after I had told her not to touch it.
The farmer advised me from now on to live for today and to stay in the moment, so that's exactly what I am doing.
I did not mention that that's what I was doing before, too.
I roamed about doing as I pleased. At bedtime I got Mabel the mini-Mancha booted out of my private stall where she was sojourning for a couple of days while she waits for her turn in the honeymoon suite.
She is not as bad as some of the full-size LaManchas (Winnie), but I'm sorry, does the word "private" not mean anything any more?
I signaled discreetly to the manager to have her removed when she started eating my special hay after I had told her not to touch it.
The farmer advised me from now on to live for today and to stay in the moment, so that's exactly what I am doing.
I did not mention that that's what I was doing before, too.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
My New Jacket
This is my new jacket.
I think it looks good.
I know it looks good.
I wear it when I go out in the cold or rain (never, why would I go out in the rain? I'm not a Nubian) and at night when it is chilly.
It has officially been made official that I am the only goat on the farm who can go anywhere I want any time I want and do anything I want when I want to do it, and I can eat anything I want, with the wrapper on if I so desire, and Wendell the Pest is not allowed to annoy me. This is not news to me but I have been playing along like it is a big surprise development.
Tomorrow is supposed to be the first in a string of non-rainy days and I am going to help the farmer do a massive barn cleaning. This means while the farmer is working I will eat any hay that happens to fall off the stack. Something always falls off the stack during barn cleaning, although sometimes it is just a cat. I may also go on a short hike to eat some salal and huckleberry. It is so very delicious this time of year.
I might wear my new jacket even if it isn't raining, just to make a Northwest REI Goat type fashion statement.
Thursday, January 08, 2009
The 101-Year Flood
This morning for the first time in several days we saw a fat sliver of sun. We think that’s what it was, anyway. It was in the southern sky, and it opened and then snapped shut quickly, like the fly window on an old Volkswagen Bug. The wind was rushing in from the West.
There is a quiet morning-after feeling like there always is after a big earthquake or a whopping deluge or a ferocious windstorm. For the moment it has stopped raining, and the temperature is dropping, which is a good thing.
The horses got their raincoats off. Willen was very pleased; he hates his raincoat and always tries to twist it off or rub it off anyway. He just got a new one for Christmas and he has already torn one of the leg straps. How rude.
Personally I like a nice jacket, something with a fleece lining if possible and a waterproof 1200 denier ripstop outer shell. By the way, my birthday is in June, and I wear a size XL (if it is a dog coat). And a “medium-large Nigerian Doe” if it is a goat coat.
Speaking of my birthday, I also like Swedish Fish (the red ones), but other than that I never eat seafood.
All the East-West mountain passes are closed. The freeway is closed for a twenty mile stretch through Chehalis on the North-South corridor with two feet of water over the road and the three rivers in that area yet to crest. The trains aren’t running because the tracks are flooded. So if you want to get out of Seattle right now you need an airplane to do it.
In our little corner of the Sound, the farmer drove halfway across a little bridge in the dark last night before realizing that there was water about six inches over the road. It was just a little creek, but for some reason it thought it was a river. Anyway, once you are halfway across it’s better to just keep going, and that’s what the farmer did without any problem. Luckily, should the need have arisen, the farmer floats – I have seen this myself - like a can of beer.
Lost Beaver Lake has filled in completely. Every valley in the whole western half of the state is just about completely flooded, which doesn’t lend much credence to last year’s talk of the December ‘07 flood being a 100-year flood. But even though it is terrible, sometimes it is also beautiful.
Anyway, at some point if you get a 100-year flood every year you have to think about calling it something else.
And a one-year flood doesn’t sound very good.
But I’m just a little white goat, what do I know.
There is a quiet morning-after feeling like there always is after a big earthquake or a whopping deluge or a ferocious windstorm. For the moment it has stopped raining, and the temperature is dropping, which is a good thing.
The horses got their raincoats off. Willen was very pleased; he hates his raincoat and always tries to twist it off or rub it off anyway. He just got a new one for Christmas and he has already torn one of the leg straps. How rude.
Personally I like a nice jacket, something with a fleece lining if possible and a waterproof 1200 denier ripstop outer shell. By the way, my birthday is in June, and I wear a size XL (if it is a dog coat). And a “medium-large Nigerian Doe” if it is a goat coat.
Speaking of my birthday, I also like Swedish Fish (the red ones), but other than that I never eat seafood.
All the East-West mountain passes are closed. The freeway is closed for a twenty mile stretch through Chehalis on the North-South corridor with two feet of water over the road and the three rivers in that area yet to crest. The trains aren’t running because the tracks are flooded. So if you want to get out of Seattle right now you need an airplane to do it.
In our little corner of the Sound, the farmer drove halfway across a little bridge in the dark last night before realizing that there was water about six inches over the road. It was just a little creek, but for some reason it thought it was a river. Anyway, once you are halfway across it’s better to just keep going, and that’s what the farmer did without any problem. Luckily, should the need have arisen, the farmer floats – I have seen this myself - like a can of beer.
Lost Beaver Lake has filled in completely. Every valley in the whole western half of the state is just about completely flooded, which doesn’t lend much credence to last year’s talk of the December ‘07 flood being a 100-year flood. But even though it is terrible, sometimes it is also beautiful.
Anyway, at some point if you get a 100-year flood every year you have to think about calling it something else.
And a one-year flood doesn’t sound very good.
But I’m just a little white goat, what do I know.
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
Pineapple Express
We wished the snow would stop and we got our wish. We are in the middle of a full-blown monsoon. It is 53 degrees. Lost Beaver Lake is back and up to 20 inches of rain are predicted by the time the Express blows out of town tomorrow afternoon. All the mountain passes are closed because the rain is bringing down avalanches, and almost every river in Western Washington is at or near flood stage. I was supposed to go the vet today but I got out of it until Friday, that's the only good thing.
We do not dare to wish for anything now, because we will certainly get it.
Just to be clear, we want nothing, we wish for nothing.
Ooommmmm.
We do not dare to wish for anything now, because we will certainly get it.
Just to be clear, we want nothing, we wish for nothing.
Ooommmmm.
Friday, January 02, 2009
Goodbye, Sunshine
You can know something sad is coming, but that doesn't make it any less sad when it comes.
Valley View Hannah's Marquee died last night.
We could say a lot about his conformation and his dairy character and his champion daughters.
But right now all we can think about is his unbelievably endearing disposition, how he loved the summer, how kind he was, and how lucky we were to have him. If you have a Nigerian or a mini from our farm, and your goat is sweet and smart and funny, we can tell you without looking at the papers that your goat is related to Marquee.
Goodbye, Sunshine.
Valley View Hannah's Marquee died last night.
We could say a lot about his conformation and his dairy character and his champion daughters.
But right now all we can think about is his unbelievably endearing disposition, how he loved the summer, how kind he was, and how lucky we were to have him. If you have a Nigerian or a mini from our farm, and your goat is sweet and smart and funny, we can tell you without looking at the papers that your goat is related to Marquee.
Goodbye, Sunshine.
Monday, December 29, 2008
The Fence Magician
Helo to everyone this is hannahbelle. blue went into heat and cannot think so I am running the blog after all. right now i am in a stall with Captain January. he looked really good yesterday but not today. he certainly could fix himself up. his hair is an awful sight and as far as hjygiene forget it.
penrose is in here too and her and me have been giving each other looks like, "what happened to this dude? is it just me or did he look really good yesterday?"
also I thinkl both of us are wondering "what kind of captain is he anyway?" He doesn't look very military, what with the grooming deficits and all. its funny the things you think of the day after you were in heat.
whatever.
big brownie didn't die after all, just needed about 4 gallons of transmission fluid. as of thios moment Big Brownie needs constant trannfusions of power steering fluid, motor oil, transmission fluid, and various other car electrolyutes to keep from dying every few minutes.
what kind of life is that? Pull the plug, I say.
tubster is in trouble because she got hold of the farmer's bag of gourmet Christmas popcorn and pulled it through the wire fence while the farmer wasn't looking and ate the whole thing bag and all. she's like a little magician when it comes to pulling things through the fence. she's much better than that guy who's always on tv hanging upside down in a straightjacket in Times Square.
if you put vanilla wafers or peanuts inside a piano she would pull the whole thing through the no-climb fence while you went to fill the water bucket. grand piano, any kind, it wouldn't matter. poof.
that's the news from lake snowbegone.
penrose is in here too and her and me have been giving each other looks like, "what happened to this dude? is it just me or did he look really good yesterday?"
also I thinkl both of us are wondering "what kind of captain is he anyway?" He doesn't look very military, what with the grooming deficits and all. its funny the things you think of the day after you were in heat.
whatever.
big brownie didn't die after all, just needed about 4 gallons of transmission fluid. as of thios moment Big Brownie needs constant trannfusions of power steering fluid, motor oil, transmission fluid, and various other car electrolyutes to keep from dying every few minutes.
what kind of life is that? Pull the plug, I say.
tubster is in trouble because she got hold of the farmer's bag of gourmet Christmas popcorn and pulled it through the wire fence while the farmer wasn't looking and ate the whole thing bag and all. she's like a little magician when it comes to pulling things through the fence. she's much better than that guy who's always on tv hanging upside down in a straightjacket in Times Square.
if you put vanilla wafers or peanuts inside a piano she would pull the whole thing through the no-climb fence while you went to fill the water bucket. grand piano, any kind, it wouldn't matter. poof.
that's the news from lake snowbegone.
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