Thursday, July 28, 2011
Betty's kids went to their new homes and Betty made the mistake of filling up with milk which made her udder look really beautiful.
The farmer started milking her which Betty didn't like at first. But Betty is naturally agreeable and after a couple of days she could see the upside - free lunch twice a day, followed by a licorice whip - so she quit fussing because that wasted valuable time when she could have had her head in the dish stuffing herself.
I told her Betty, I said, you better watch yourself or you will wind up at Puyallup in September. You will be in a tiny little pen and people will be staring at you like before and they will ask, "how old is this little lamb?"
"Is this one of those alpacas?" they will say.
"Can I pet it?" they will ask, looming over you like dirigibles and reeking of hot dogs and sunscreen.
"Would you mind selling me this goat?" they will inquire. "I live in an apartment but I take long walks every day."
"Why is it standing in the back of the pen," they will complain, "my little boy wants to pull its ears."
Mmm, said Betty.
Betty! I said.
Mmm, said Betty. I could see she was thinking about my helpful comments.
But I could see also that she was thinking about the beautiful stacks of free alfalfa at the Fair. The beautiful dairy alfalfa. No stems in it. Just beautiful leaves from the Columbia Basin. And also the scone crumbs in the morning before the public comes, the sleepy mornings in the barn with goats from all over to look at. And the orchard grass on the side. And the beautiful alfalfa, piled up as far as the eye can see, better than the best wedding cake in the world.
"Betty!" I yelled. "SHUT OFF YOUR MILK! BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE!"
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Bye mom, luv ya, I'll email you some alfalfa from France if I don't forget. Or Granite Falls?
But there was nothing muted with Percy, he got stuck one pasture over from his mother and screamed bloody murder after going seventeen minutes without milk. Meanwhile Jimmy was swelling up like a beach ball with the milk Percy had not drunk and pretty soon she was crying bloody murder too. Then with all the bloody murder Lucy realized her son Baxter had gone off accidentally with Percy, just following the wrong trenchcoat in the crowd, not through any intention of malfeasance. And so she started in with the bloody murder and when Baxter heard his mother screaming bloody murder one pasture away he took a good long look around him and said, 'wait a minute, these people aren't my mother," and he started in crying bloody murder.
That's what kind of day it was which the farmer knew would happen this morning after listening to the weather lady on the newscast say that today there would be "the threat of partial clearing."
That is the kind of summer we are having. A summer where a weather lady can say with a straight face, "This afternoon there is a threat of partial clearing."
Don't worry, the threat did not materialize. Just the rain. And the bloody murder.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Monday, July 11, 2011
I think there was one more but really who cares. The important thing is I didn't go.
Apparently there was a pile of rocks there to climb and there was some packgoating and also feeding of the bottle baby. It seems like everyone probably had a certain amount of fun, except Charlie and Belle who spent the whole time thinking about the milk they weren't drinking, since their mother didn't come with them and they don't care for drinking from bottles.
Meanwhile back at the farm we got switched pastures which we don't like so there was a rebellion with Blue's delinquent daughters refusing to stay in the new pasture. For once the usually obedient Duke and Duchess joined the rebellion and by that time I decided to join too since there was nothing else to do.
Then Betty joined and so did Joy and so I resigned from the rebellion because it was old news and also I saw there were blackberries in the new pasture.
Wednesday, July 06, 2011
Dear Hay: Thank You.
Dear Hay: Please try to stay out of the feeders close to Betsy or you will find yourself immediately engulfed in a vast dark burbling cavern from which only berries and noxious gasses (please, Betsy, we are trying to breathe) escape.
As far as the disobedience parts 2-613 previously promised, the size of the list has grown unmanageable and cannot be attempted at this time owing to The Hay and other more pressing matters but yes there has been additional malfeasance some of it mind-boggling.
But there have also been strange obediences including an alarming pattern of cooperation by Tangy who now fancies herself a professional goat. Yesterday she allowed herself to be dressed up in a pack and new collar in preparation for this weekend's first-ever Field of Goats, a small humble event taking place at the Longbranch Improvement Club where she will parade around demonstrating Goats of Little Brain in Action.
Tangy only complained when she was asked to stop packgoating around and go back in with the general population. She did not swordfish walk or pancake herself on the ground or even so much as try to t-bone Wendell who was yipping around foolishly as usual.
"What a good girl you are, Tangy," said the farmer, "see, if you just practice a little you will see it is fun."
Sure. That's fun, carrying other people's stuff around on a hot day.
Hannah Belle thinks Tangy is saving up for one colossal disobedience, a public-swordfish-pancaking for the record books.
The suspense is killing us.
Friday, July 01, 2011
Big Orange and Hannah Belle got turned out in the back pasture to stretch their legs with their babies. They jumped the fence and left their screaming babies behind and started a rumble in the lower pasture that ranged up and down the hill for over an hour.
Everyone in the lower pasture has been issued demerits whether or not they actually participated because the farmer could tell that the ones who weren't participating were just waiting their turn and probably lazy on top of disobedient. Big Orange has been banned from the back pasture.
Willen the fat Haflinger broke the latch on the gate. Then he broke a fence rail.
Pinky kicked over a bucket of milk.
"That's the last straw!" The farmer yelled. But this was premature; there were additional straws to come.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
And I said "why should I?" because I could see Izzy through the fence in the down below pasture where she was snuggling with my mother Belle Pepper.
"She's standing right there," I said, and then all of a sudden I put two and two together and realized why my chandelier was feeling too full with all the milk that had not been drunk by anyone. And so I pitched a fit.
The farmer came and brought me some peanuts and milked me on the milkstand with some nice grain and scratched my ears.
"Your chandelier is looking much better, Millie," the farmer said. "Maybe you would like to go to the fair after all."
So then I pitched another fit until some more treats were provided. The farmer let me stay on free range for the rest of the day and so I got to watch when Moldy's daughter Abby went into the kidding stall to have her kids.
Moldy had to go in too because they never go anywhere except together and so both of them were in there bawling when Abby popped out her first kid, a tiny implacable kitten about three inches long. The kitten prowled off immediately in search of milk while Abby laid down and had another kid, this one normal size but it seemed big because the other one was so small.
"Oh how nice," said the farmer, " a boy and a girl."
The farmer needs new glasses though because the two girls Hannah Belle had the other day turned out actually to be a boy and a girl and this boy and girl turned out to be two girls, one large and one small.
I had had high hopes that they might be normal on account of being born here and eventually coming under the influence of the Baby Belle family but right from the start they have been showing Moldy family tendencies and in fact as soon as they hit the ground Moldy said, "Welcome to Oregon!"
Which just goes to show. The farmer is calling them Pebbles and Sandy, but I am going to call them Corvallis and Pendleton.
PS - The farmer somehow deleted several comments and it seems the commenting is not acting right and someone kindly wrote in regarding Tangy's exploits to remind the public that YOU MUST BE VERY CAREFUL riding a goat and make sure the goat is big and can hold your weight because YOU CAN HURT THE GOAT if you aren't careful. And remember too that the goat needs time to adjust so you have to build up the weight a little at a time. Tangy has been practicing carrying a pack and she is as big as a house, this is really the only kind of goat you can ride for even a short while.
PPS - When I say "the goat" in the previous PS, I mean the big Nubian crosses. Do NOT ride a Nigerian Dwarf. If you see a Nigerian Dwarf somewhere, simply give him or her a yogurt covered pretzel and go on your way. Thank you.