Master Goat Farmer at Work

Our farmer is a trained professional and notices every nuance of goat behavior with unbelievable acuity. Yesterday it was blowing a gale from the west. One feeder tipped over and two roofs ripped off, one from the baby shed and one from Winnie's cabana. The farmer kept a keen eye on Blue Umbrella.

One lady dropped by and the farmer made the lady go out and look at Blue Umbrella.

"See how she is pinning her ears back like that and has a glassy expression on her face?" said the farmer in a lofty knowledgeable tone.

"Ok," said the lady.

"Now we will feel her ligaments," said the farmer, and tried to catch Blue Umbrella, but Blue Umbrella took off running which was no mean feat for a goat with a 64 inch waistline.

"This is how she acts when is getting ready to kid," the farmer told the lady.

"Is that right," said the lady. "My goodness, look at the time."

The lady took off running and the farmer could not catch her either.

Meanwhile my half-cousin-sister Betty began to get a terrible case of indigestion, and was circling all over the place, trying to sneak up on herself from behind.

"Why don't you lie down if you don't feel good, Betty?" I suggested.

"That's a good idea," said Betty, and lied down. Then it was such a good idea that she got up and lied down again, pawing up the ground to try to make a pillow. There wasn't any straw since we were out in the pasture so it didn't feel right so she got up and moved to a better spot and lied down again.

Meanwhile the farmer called Lori on the phone to ask Lori to go to the farmers' meeting. 'I don't think I can go to the meeting, because Blue Umbrella is going to kid."

The farmer got a nice kidding stall ready and brought everybody in and finally was able to catch Blue Umbrella and Blue Umbrella's ligaments were like a rock. "Hmm," said the farmer, astutely.

Blue Umbrella got booted out of the kidding stall and the farmer called Lori to see if it was too late to go to the farmers' meeting after all and just then Betty started screaming.

"Oh," said the farmer. "How convenient."

Betty was ushered into the kidding stall where she kidded a set of teeny tiny peanut twins.

As you can see, very little escapes the notice of a Master Goat Farmer.

Spring Blizzard Approaching

Every year in the fall there comes a day when four or five does come into heat at the same time.

"Oh how convenient," says the farmer. "I can take them all in to be bred and mark them off the list."

Five months later in the spring they all have their kids at the same time, causing the farmer to become (even more) bleary-eyed and short-tempered.

"Oh how inconvenient," says the farmer. "Remind me not to do that again."

Luckily at least Maddy went ahead of schedule with her mud-pit Easter Bunnies. And my mother Belle Pepper helpfully fooled the farmer and did not settle. That's good, I like being an only child.

But now Boxcar Betty, Blue Umbrella, and the sacred Jammies are lining up on the runway.

Fasten your seatbelts. There's a baby blizzard on the radar.

Bunny and Morchella

Easter Bunnies

I am only eight months old so obviously I still enjoy milk. But I have noticed lately that my mother has gotten much shorter and when I go to get the milk sometimes I can't quite fit under her and she actually goes up in the air like if you picked up a wheelbarrow. Because she is so short I guess. It's kind of odd, I used to fit all the way under there.

I hope she doesn't get too much shorter because it's a little bit inconvenient.

Today was Easter here and it was supposed to be a holiday with nothing on the schedule and the farmer was going to go and hunt for some morels because it is morel season. So the farmer did the chores and milked everybody and then went to feed the bucket babies and then heard some high-pitched distant baby screaming.

"What the goodness," said the farmer, and counted the triplets. Two sets makes six. One, two, three, four, five, six.

"What the goodness," said the farmer. Well, maybe it was Abbie and Amarillo, Moldy's twins, yelling about something. Just then they ran silently past. The baby screaming continued.

"What the goodness," said the farmer, looking around like a beagle at a foxhunt.

Maddy had gone behind the barn into the muddiest mud pit on the farm where the tractor even got stuck and had a set of twins three days ahead of schedule. Both were covered with mud and yelling angrily. Maddy was gazing into the distance in puzzlement, perhaps considering updating her Facebook page.

She tiptoed discreetly away from the two little babies as they tried to advance toward her.

The farmer came and got them out of the mud.

"Two little easter bunnies," said the farmer. "No morels."

Goat Glossary

Backsnack (verb, noun): to glean delicious morsels from another goat's back, to backsnack.

Usage:

"I enjoyed a nice backsnack when I stood next to Jammies at the feeder. Her woolly coat is like an alfalfa lint brush."

"I couldn't backsnack because I was stuck next to Peaches, and she has no undercoat."

Miracle Mac

If you are a person and you break your leg you have to waddle around for months with a cast. This is bad because you only have two legs. And one of them is broken. So half your legs are broken, and you were probably slow and ungainly to begin with. No offense to you, but you know what I mean.

I have seen people who were three or four or five times taller than a Nigerian, and they cannot even jump over a fence as tall as their middle. It's sad. Very sad.

Whereas Aunt Hannah Belle, who is 23 inches tall at the withers, used to be able to jump five feet before her waistline expanded. Now she can only jump four.

Anyway Mac the baby goat broke his leg ten days ago. Yesterday they took the cast off.

Fixed. One more example of goat superiority.

Without those thumbs, the people species would have died out a long time ago.

Grass Thief

Tommy the grumpy appaloosa owns all the grass around here. In this photo Moldy hides behind a locust tree so he will not see her eating his grass.

Just looking for some missing earrings, Tommy. Pay no attention.

Headed Out This Morning, Into the Sun

Wronny's bland babies finally got their names. There are two boys and one girl. The super sweet boy is going to be named Spud. The smart one is going to be named Ivar.

The girl had to have an A name. Every person who came said why not Annie? Or why not Ann? Or why not Anna? Anna Banana? One person said how about Anne-Marie?

Anyway her name is not going to be Ann or Anne-Marie. Her name is going to be Anastasia, like the Grand Duchess. She is very imperial.

But I guess everyone will probably just call her Annie.

Dreamboat Annie.

Ship of dreams.

Excuse Me, Sir, Which Way to the Milk Bar?

Double Triplets

Wronny had her kids yesterday exactly by the book as usual. She had a set of triplets, just like Joy. Very boring, just like Joy's. But much bigger and louder. They've been complaining since they got here.

Wronny went right back to work on the milkstand without batting an eye.

"I would not take a thousand dollars for that doe," the farmer said, to no one in particular.

Of course that is easy to say when no one has offered a thousand dollars.

But anyway that's what the farmer said.