Schooling the Tangerine Whale

The good news is we have already raised $1 for our Tangy Pledge Drive. It only took two days. So at this rate in 3074 more days she will be on her way to her new Kiwi home. That is only eight years and a few months! Vaya con Dios, Tangy!

The bad news is that yesterday some children came over and one of them was quite small and she wanted to ride a goat. When I heard her say, "I want to ride a goat," I discreetly galloped at top speed to the far corner of the pasture, right behind Hannah Belle who was making extremely good time for a goat who is eight months pregnant.

Everyone else with normal intelligence followed us, leaving only the Nubian crosses and Eo up at the barn in catching range. Eo was plotting a government overthrow as usual and not paying attention to the conversation.

The farmer was dubious since none of us had ever been ridden. "I don't know about that," the farmer said, eyeballing the Nubian crosses. "It would have to be a big goat."

We don't have any big wethers since there is a strict rule against them, and they would be the natural choice for goat riding activities. Big Orange and Xie Xie are pregnant, so that got them off the hook. Pinky Jr. is too skinny because she is growing so fast and Pinky is a milker and she will also be the new Sheriff of Crazytown if Maddie ever resigns. She is Crazy with a capital T.

And that left only one goat: the tangerine whale.

"See if Tangy will come out," the farmer told the children.

Tangy lumbered out.

"Okay let's see if we can get the horse halter on her," the farmer said, pretending not to be surprised.

Tangy stood patiently while an upside-down horse halter was put on her for a harness.

"Okay let's put you on her," the farmer said to the little girl. On she went.

"Hold on tight," the farmer told the little girl, and she grabbed the halter. The farmer snapped a lead rope on Tangy.

"Okay let's see if she will walk." Tangy walked off without batting an eye.

"I want to ride her alone," the little girl said. "By myself."

The farmer took the lead rope off.

Tangy and passenger walked off alone. There was no sunset at that time of day or they would have walked into it.

"Hmm," said the farmer. "Who knew."

I wonder if this means Tangy is still going to New Zealand in 2019. I kind of don't think so.

Send Tangy to Kumara Junction

We did not have much luck raising money to send Tangy to Spindale. We raised zero dollars. But that's ok because it looks like there is a better opportunity.

The farmer just read about a lady in New Zealand who has made a special home for a special goat.

Obviously this lady must be extremely patient, so this would be a perfect home for Tangy. And it is even farther away than Spindale.

Unfortunately the ticket to New Zealand is a bit more ($1538) so please give generously. But Tangy would be right in Tasmania so she might meet a nice Devil, and also she would not be here eating all our food. Thank you.

Be Kind to Your Web-Footed Friends

If you don't care about conformation that probably means you have bad conformation.

And you probably spell it wrong too. "Oh who gives a hoot about CONFIRMATION," that's what you probably say when the subject comes up.

Conformation means do you look good, with all your arrows pointing in the right direction, and do you walk along smooothly like an ice skater on a frozen canal in Amsterdam. Or do you look like a washing machine full of dirty gym socks tumbling down a mountainside when you come running toward the feeder.

Anyway I am in the Baby Belle family so I have excellent conformation except for my chandelier udder which is the only thing saving me from a lifetime of goat shows. Thank God for my chandelier or I would probably have to buy a tour bus to appear at all 50 state fairs.

However certain parties around here have developed a pronounced washing machine style of locomotion and there is two of them and their name is the Moldy Family. That means Moldy and her daughter Abby.

They are fine and all and I have gotten used to them and nobody even bothers giving them a thrashing any more and in fact you hardly notice them until you see them walking and then it becomes apparent that they toe out in the back like a pair of penguins. My goodness it is really something.

For a long time I couldn't figure it out, then I remembered they are from Oregon, and that must be where their duckfoot comes from. Because Oregon is ruled by Ducks.

But anyway I have taken a vow of kindliness and I never even mention anything about it. What would be the point. They must know what they look like by now.

And even a duck may be somebody's mother.

Terrifying Intruder, Part One

Hello. Today there was a terrifying intruder.

When faced with a terrifying intruder, it is important to pay attention. It is almost impossible to be properly terrified if you are dozing off.

Steps which will aid in focusing the attention:

1. Everyone must face the terrifying intruder, even Pinky.

2. Actually, this is really Step One, but we usually do it second. So we call it Step Two. Step Two: Stop eating. Even Pinky.

3. Try to identify someone nearby who is smarter than you (difficult in my case, but Pinky can just look anywhere, even at a pigeon) and see what they are doing. Do whatever they are doing.

4. Is Hannah Belle anywhere nearby? If so, the intruder isn't really that terrifying. If Hannah Belle has vanished, run for the barn.

Thank you. I hope this has been of some help to those of you who are unsure whether or not to be terrified.

Dreamytown

The farmer went away for a week and when the farmer came back my daughter Pretty Baby had gotten EVEN CUTER. Hard to believe but true.

In less interesting news, Jimmy had had a little buckling, he is also a single like Cherry's daughter Maraschino, and he also has milk stupefaction. He is a mini-mancha with blue eyes and wattles. He can hardly keep his eyes open.

He is always waking up and discovering that the whole herd has gone somewhere else and he is all alone and then he starts crying sleepily and then Jimmy appears with a big bag of milk and tops him off and then back to Dreamytown, see you later, you're getting very sleepy, don't try to talk.

We are thinking of calling him James Dream because all of Jimmy's sons are named Jimmy.

Well, she only had one, but his name was Jimmy Jr.

Hazel

Sometimes one day is a lifetime.

We lost our little nut. So now we can call her Hazel.

5/13/2011 - 5/14/2011.

Nameless New Nut

We have seen some tiny little peanuts in our day. Including Mr. Peanut himself, now the largest 4-legged peanut in the world. But usually they are Nigerians.

In a move that took everyone by surprise, Wronny had a rare LaMancha peanut doeling last night. This is a tiny one. We are all holding our breath.

"She doesn't look that good," the farmer said gently to Wronny. Wronny ignored that comment, and got busy cleaning the peanut and getting it started and giving the farmer occasional icy looks, as if to say, "why are you still standing here when you could be going to get the vanilla wafers?"

I thought the peanut should be named Hazel. But the farmer said no, no names. Not right now. It would be a jinx.

The peanut has one thing going for her, though. She is mad as a hornet.

And about the same size.