Hello.

Hello. I just got here yesterday. There was no Nigerian doelings born this year which never happened before. That was before I came. I am the last baby of the season.

My mother’s name is Belle Pepper. Her mother’s name was Baby Belle. Her mother’s name was Domingo Millie.

My name is going to be Million Belles, like the flower except with an e.

So I thought they might call me Millie like my great-grandmother.

But right now they are all calling me Baby Belle.

A Note From the Farmer

Baby Belle died this afternoon.

Thanks to everyone who read her blog and to everyone who wrote publicly and privately sending her good wishes and good thoughts.

I knew we would miss her right away. I did not know how much.

Oh, Baby Belle.



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Betsy

Betsy is still Betsy.

Some goats grow up and when they get big they get a new personality. Lucy for example was a fun-loving tot in her youth, but now she is a milker she has turned ruthless and scheming. She wants to move up the milker ladder and become top milker someday. This is a lost cause, because no one will ever unseat the Brandy family here. There is a reason we call them The Sopranos.

Lucy, if you are reading this, remember: Never go against The Family.

But Betsy is still Betsy. She doesn't care about being top milker. She just wants more food.

That would be her platform if she were running for governor. MORE FOOD NOW.

This has always been her policy, since she was a tiny bottle baby. And that is why she comes running at a hard canter every time the farmer calls out "Betsy!"

It might mean food, if she gets there first. It might mean MORE FOOD NOW.

When we see the herd coming around the greenhouse turn into the barnyard, Betsy is always in front or closing fast (if she got a bad start), running with her head up and a far-off Nubian gleam in her eye.

If the farmer wants Winnie, the farmer calls Winnie. If the farmer wants Tangy, the farmer calls Tangy. But if the farmer wants everybody, the farmer just calls Betsy.

Because when the rest of the herd sees Betsy running, they don't ask any questions. They just turn and run.

It might mean MORE FOOD NOW.

The Pasteurizer

IS HERE!

The Newsletter

Well, the farm newsletter has been done for a while but we are having some problems getting the mailing list to send out properly. So anyway for now you can just read it here and we will try to get the list fixed for next time.

Oy. It's always something. It's never nothing.

Fool Me Twice

Well, the farmer had to go and pick up hay in the field, and Betsy used the opportunity to kid. She had a gigantic single buck kid (again) in the peace and quiet of a private kidding stall.

His name is Bubbles, but he acts like he doesn't know who you are talking to when you say, "hello, Bubbles." That's a bit odd.

Anyway, this year the score in the Stealth Kidding Campaign is Betsy family 2, Farmer 1.

Speaking of hay it is almost time to bring the hay in, probably in a week or so. Because of the freakishly hot weather and the ample spring rain, the hay is weeks ahead of schedule, and it is looking very beautiful.

Many people probably would love a chance to swelter in the hot sun bucking hay. My goodness it is a fantastic workout, I love to watch them doing it from under a nice shady tree. If you are ambulatory or even reasonably ambulatory you are welcome to help The Farmer bring in hundreds of bales from the field when the time comes.

No, seriously, don't be shy. Just send us your email and we will let you know when and where to come.