Just when the milkless boys had almost reached the bottom of their ocean of tears, everybody here is getting a headache because Pinky has been wailing all day long. That's because of Gracie and Joyjoy. Gracie and Joyjoy, Bertie's twins, were very lucky and got picked to go to a nice new home. That's fine except nobody read Pinky the memo.
The farmer thought maybe Gracie and Joyjoy could be snuck out while Pinky and the other LaMancha doelings - aka "the piranhas" - were distracted with hay and grape leaves. That seemed to work. Then this morning Pinky's brain caught up with reality and she started in hollering.
"Wait a minute, where is Gracie?' she has been bawling all day long. "Wasn't she just here? Gracie? Gracie? Are you behind me? Gracie?"
She wasn't that attached to Joyjoy. Or maybe she thought Gracie and Joyjoy were the same goat. Who knows.
The good news is it has been established through sophisticated experimental procedures that Pinky cannot remember anything for more than eight hours. So by dinnertime she should have forgotten about Gracie.
We are counting the hours.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Friday, October 16, 2009
One Day a Year
Fabulous Last Place Wronny is one of the farmer's pets because she never causes trouble and is absolutely silent. Even when Wronny is having her kids she hardly ever makes any noise. Once or twice if it is a gigantic buck kid with a head like a beach ball, a muted peep of dismay might tumble out. Like if you stubbed your toe at a fancy cocktail party. More likely though she would just raise one of her eyebrows, indicating extreme agitation.
This is as opposed to, say, Tangy, who would start screaming if a raindrop touched her.
To give an example of the extent of Wronny's stoicism, the farmer has been asking the grief-stricken milkless boys on weaning, "why can't you be quiet like Wronny?"
Anyway today is Wronny's one-day-a-year.
She is standing at the fenceline, in the steady rain, bellowing across the pasture like a foghorn. If this sound were recorded on CD it would outsell all the whale song tapes. It is long and mournful and endless, having been bottled up for 364 days.
"I WANT TO SEE MY BOYFRIEND!" it says.
"AS SOON AS POSSIBLE PLEASE!"
"RIGHT AWAY IF IT CAN BE ARRANGED!"
This is as opposed to, say, Tangy, who would start screaming if a raindrop touched her.
To give an example of the extent of Wronny's stoicism, the farmer has been asking the grief-stricken milkless boys on weaning, "why can't you be quiet like Wronny?"
Anyway today is Wronny's one-day-a-year.
She is standing at the fenceline, in the steady rain, bellowing across the pasture like a foghorn. If this sound were recorded on CD it would outsell all the whale song tapes. It is long and mournful and endless, having been bottled up for 364 days.
"I WANT TO SEE MY BOYFRIEND!" it says.
"AS SOON AS POSSIBLE PLEASE!"
"RIGHT AWAY IF IT CAN BE ARRANGED!"
Thursday, October 15, 2009
News, Old and New
Some people came last weekend to take a cheese class. It was very boring, they did not bring any treats for me.
Zane Grey and Mr. Jimmy and Franco are on 'weaning.' This is where you do not get any milk. Their sorrow is very sad. Their cries fill the air. I am thinking of writing a poem about it.
I am not on weaning because I am Baby Belle, Jr. I signalled to the farmer that I did not care to join the weaning club. Maybe next year.
Aunt Blue went on the milkstand today for the first time. Except for coming in the milk parlor through the back door, which is normally not allowed, she was a complete professional. The farmer is going to start sending the milk to the test lab again.
I am sure some of the LaManchas will get a lecture when the results come back, because Aunt Blue will have the highest butterfat as usual unless Jammies the sad-eyed minimancha is able to beat her. I am rooting for Blue because she is my aunt, although Jammies is my cousin so I may switch and root for her if she wins.
The farm store is supposed to open soon selling cheese and eggs and a few other things. But we will see if that happens, things don't always happen on schedule around here.
Zane Grey and Mr. Jimmy and Franco are on 'weaning.' This is where you do not get any milk. Their sorrow is very sad. Their cries fill the air. I am thinking of writing a poem about it.
I am not on weaning because I am Baby Belle, Jr. I signalled to the farmer that I did not care to join the weaning club. Maybe next year.
Aunt Blue went on the milkstand today for the first time. Except for coming in the milk parlor through the back door, which is normally not allowed, she was a complete professional. The farmer is going to start sending the milk to the test lab again.
I am sure some of the LaManchas will get a lecture when the results come back, because Aunt Blue will have the highest butterfat as usual unless Jammies the sad-eyed minimancha is able to beat her. I am rooting for Blue because she is my aunt, although Jammies is my cousin so I may switch and root for her if she wins.
The farm store is supposed to open soon selling cheese and eggs and a few other things. But we will see if that happens, things don't always happen on schedule around here.
Tuesday, October 06, 2009
Why?
Why is there no justice? Why is the world filled with grief and heartache? Why must bad things happen to good goats? Why did I get banned from the grain bin?
"Because you are getting too fat, Millie," said the farmer.
"Because you are getting too fat, Millie," said the farmer.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Boxcar Betty Goes Bad
Boxcar Betty, my cousin, used to be sweet and adorable like me.
She followed the straight and narrow path of the Captain January side of the family tree, instead of the Hannah Belle Lecter side of the tree.
If the farmer would say, "Betty! Betty, come here!" Betty would come.
When the yearlings and fat girls went down below, Betty went with them. Then Hannah Belle got sent down there. Aunt Hannah Belle stayed there for maybe fifteen seconds and then left, because the food up at the big barn by the milker pasture is much better.
Betty watched with dismay but did not attempt to escape.
Then Hannah Belle came back because the fat girls were going out in the big meadow where there is free meadow grass and brush. Betty started hanging around with Hannah Belle, who is her mother after all.
Or should I say loitering. Betty started loitering around with Hannah Belle.
Hannah Belle went back to the big barn when the meadow was closed for the summer.
Betty watched with dismay. Then attempted to escape. Unfortunately for her she did not have her mother's cat burglar skills.
Aunt Hannah Belle looked on idly, chewing her cud like a baseball pitcher watching for a sign from the catcher, as Betty scrambled and pawed in an attempt to duck under the fat girl fence at the blackberry hole. No luck. Hannah Belle looked on with cool detachment as Betty attempted to head butt the gate open. Sad, said Hannah Belle's expression. A sad effort.
Hannah Belle dozed serenely as Betty made a sorry little jump at the field fencing. It was almost embarrassing. Like something you would see from the Breezy family.
Betty began twittering to Hannah Belle, little birdcalls of affrontery and indignation. Hannah Belle stood up and yawned and went and stole some alfalfa from the LaMancha kids. Then Betty began running the fenceline and yelling.
Hannah Belle finally got up and sauntered off toward the fat girl pasture.
I did not see what happened next, because it was time for me to go to the grain bin.
When I came back, Betty and Hannah Belle were up in the milkers' pasture, sunning themselves on top of the tank cover.
"Betty!" called the farmer. "Betty, come here!"
Betty turned her head, like a femme fatale in a movie, and looked at the farmer, and blinked a couple of times. And then looked away, down at the meadow that was closed until spring. Where Hannah Belle was looking, watching all the canary grass grow.
She followed the straight and narrow path of the Captain January side of the family tree, instead of the Hannah Belle Lecter side of the tree.
If the farmer would say, "Betty! Betty, come here!" Betty would come.
When the yearlings and fat girls went down below, Betty went with them. Then Hannah Belle got sent down there. Aunt Hannah Belle stayed there for maybe fifteen seconds and then left, because the food up at the big barn by the milker pasture is much better.
Betty watched with dismay but did not attempt to escape.
Then Hannah Belle came back because the fat girls were going out in the big meadow where there is free meadow grass and brush. Betty started hanging around with Hannah Belle, who is her mother after all.
Or should I say loitering. Betty started loitering around with Hannah Belle.
Hannah Belle went back to the big barn when the meadow was closed for the summer.
Betty watched with dismay. Then attempted to escape. Unfortunately for her she did not have her mother's cat burglar skills.
Aunt Hannah Belle looked on idly, chewing her cud like a baseball pitcher watching for a sign from the catcher, as Betty scrambled and pawed in an attempt to duck under the fat girl fence at the blackberry hole. No luck. Hannah Belle looked on with cool detachment as Betty attempted to head butt the gate open. Sad, said Hannah Belle's expression. A sad effort.
Hannah Belle dozed serenely as Betty made a sorry little jump at the field fencing. It was almost embarrassing. Like something you would see from the Breezy family.
Betty began twittering to Hannah Belle, little birdcalls of affrontery and indignation. Hannah Belle stood up and yawned and went and stole some alfalfa from the LaMancha kids. Then Betty began running the fenceline and yelling.
Hannah Belle finally got up and sauntered off toward the fat girl pasture.
I did not see what happened next, because it was time for me to go to the grain bin.
When I came back, Betty and Hannah Belle were up in the milkers' pasture, sunning themselves on top of the tank cover.
"Betty!" called the farmer. "Betty, come here!"
Betty turned her head, like a femme fatale in a movie, and looked at the farmer, and blinked a couple of times. And then looked away, down at the meadow that was closed until spring. Where Hannah Belle was looking, watching all the canary grass grow.
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