Friday, October 29, 2010
The Jammies Family is rather sickening because they always get a lot of attention in fact when the farmer sees them the farmer always says "oh Jammies, I love you, Jammies." Or, "oh, Bumbles, I love you, Bumbles." Not like Tangy for example where the farmer always says, "Tangy, get OFF!" or Maddy where the farmer says, "Will you PLEASE be quiet," or Jimmy, Jr where the farmer says, "JIMMY! Do not make me come and get you!" or Hannah Belle where the farmer simply bellows, "HANNAH BELLE LECTER!"
No with Jammies the perfect mini-Mancha and Bumbles the overstuffed doeling it is always Jammies I love you Jammies and Bumbles I love you Bumbles.
In this photo they take their adorableness to a new level by lounging in the pasture on one of our probably last sunny days. Bumbles, Jammies' daughter, demonstrates just how fat you can get by drinking mini-mancha milk, especially if you are an only child and your mother is Jammies the candy goat.
Jammies is bred to our cousin Pepe, Betty's blue-eyed son, and somebody already asked if the babies would be for sale and the farmer said, yes, they would be available for one million dollars each, two million if they have perfect mini-Mancha ears like Jammies.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Our farmer has been buying all kinds of fence chargers and they don't work like the old Sears fence charger that was built in 1974 and zapped like a charm until it finally gave out last spring. They don't make the parts for it any more so it went to the scrap heap. Since then there has been a Gallagher (PowerPlus! Good for 60 acres!) that wouldn't shock a flea, a Farmtek that would make you say "I think I feel something! There! That's it, isn't it?" And a Saaco that had enough juice to light the flashing light indicating that it was working correctly but not enough power to actually produce any shock at all of any kind.
Every time the farmer would go back to a different farm store and the farm clerk would explain why the fence charger didn't work, it was all because the farmer hadn't hooked it up right and all the voltage and amperage was flowing counterclockwise down the drain as if it were in the Southern Hemisphere where they have Christmas in July which would mean that it needed a better ground, with a minimum of 75 30-foot-long copper poles from NASA to work correctly.
"Oh really," the farmer would say. "Well how come the old one worked for 35 years with no problem?"
"Well," the farm clerk would say, and make a little French touche gesture, "they don't make them like they used to."
After the last episode the farmer said, "that's it," in complete disgust and now we have a charger that is rated to completely encircle Rhode Island three times. It is enough to hold Laddy and will probably hold Tommy. Willen will stay if the other two aren't going anywhere. Anyway, if you find an old Sears fence charger at a yard sale anywhere, please email us immediately.
In other farm news something far more shocking has happened to Big Orange. Big Orange used to be a high-kicking bucket-launcher. She was the bane of the milkroom. She was considered the Mayor of Crazy Town until the farmer started working in the city and the neighbor farmer started coming over to milk Big Orange. Somehow the neighbor turned Big Orange into an almost normal milker. So Crazy Town will need a new Mayor.
Luckily there are several deputy mayors waiting in the wings to take office.
Big Orange's granddaughter Pinky has been started in the milkroom even though she is not a milker just to keep her off the ballot.
In this photo she stuffs her face while Jimmy Jr., Jimmy's wether son, wanders mistakenly into the milkroom. No wethers allowed, Jimmy. Beat it.
Monday, October 04, 2010
They had the Harvest Festival Farm Tour last weekend. This is where people go around our Peninsula looking at pumpkins and chickens. They track mud everywhere and park in the ditches.
The farmer came out to see if anyone might like to go and represent the goat kingdom at the neighbor's farm, which was on the tour. There was a big stampede out the back of the barn, led by everyone. Not even Tangy wanted to represent the goat kingdom.
"That is ok," said the farmer bitterly. "We don't need any of you. We have two nice goats from Minter Bay going."
And the farmer went off to help the farmer from Minter Bay who was bringing the two goats who had volunteered to represent the goat kingdom to the public. Only as usual the farmer forgot almost everything except one folding chair, so the farmer from Minter Bay who had gone to all the trouble of bringing the two "volunteer" goats also had to sit on a tiny postage-stamp sized chair that looked like something a hummingbird might perch on. That was while our farmer lounged on a full-sized comfy chair, not even looking apologetic.
Anyway the two volunteers were Filbert, Hannah Belle's son who has become a goat celebrity from last year's Harvest Fest where he got his picture on the front page of the paper. And George, aka Curious George, one of Alice's mini-mancha triplets from this summer. George is a baby and he put on a show of shivering and whimpering while Filbert chewed his cud in a blase fashion.
Filbert is known as a professional goat.
Anyway the public started coming and it turned out in a cruel twist of fate that Filbert once again was the Candy Goat. This means he was wearing a little pack and the pack was filled with candy. Good candy, like tiny Milky Way bars. Not sourballs wrapped in plastic and petrified candy corn.
So this made Filbert extremely popular. "Why don't you take a look and see what he has in his pack," the farmer from Minter Bay would say to the children, and they would look in the pack and give a little gasp of delight.
The people who owned the farm were selling animal treats for a quarter. So all the children had little sacks filled with peanuts and cracked corn and carrot slices. And they would all give Filbert something in exchange for their Milky Ways, so he had an excellent racket going, and spent most of the day licking his lips. That part was not the cruel twist.
The cruel twist was George, shivering and whimpering. He was the Trash Goat.
"Now don't forget," the farmer from Minter Bay would say. "When you finish your candy, put the wrapper in George's pack. He is the trash goat."
That is why I don't volunteer for any of these expeditions. Because even though I know someone gets to be the Candy Goat, I know there will also be somebody who gets to be the Trash Goat. And that is all the incentive I need to stay home.