Friday, August 12, 2011
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Today and Every Day
It was a year ago today we lost our great friend Atticus. A lady stopped by a little while ago and asked if the farmer still thinks about Atticus sometimes.
"Yes," the farmer said. That was all.
Every day.
"Yes," the farmer said. That was all.
Every day.
Tuesday, August 09, 2011
Preheated
It got hot everywhere else this summer but it never really got hot here. I don't mind the heat but it's just as well because the heat wilts our farmer really quickly. Our farmer starts spritzing and misting and calling for otter pops at about 76 degrees Fahrenheit. So you could imagine what the service was like around here a couple of years ago when the temperature got over 100.
Anyway the point is it never really got hot here this summer and that's part of the reason some of the milkers have started going into pre-heat. They don't really go into heat, but they go into pre-heat, and then they go around and start fights with each other. Or when they don't start fights through a lack of gumption or sheer shiftlessness in the case of Pinky who can't be bothered to start her own squabbles they join in the fights that are already started by the more ambitious.
On a side note Cherry went actually into heat and then realized it was too soon to be in heat but by that time she had jumped into the buck pen where three smelly swains immediately began vying for her favor. Luckily she was able to excuse herself unnoticed as the vying reached a crescendo. As she tiptoed back to the barn, they all continued vying without her. Why not, they had already started.
Anyway this morning I started thinking about some annoying things that have been happening lately. The main one is when people come over and say, "Oh my Gosh! Look at Millie! She is all grown up now! She is adorable!"
That's fine but they are looking at Abby when they say it.
"That's Abby," the farmer explains, "Millie is over there."
"She's cute too!" they say.
The more I thought about this the more infuriating it seemed.
So I went over to Abby and started a fight. The fight lasted for three hours. Even when Wronny wanted me to stop I kept fighting. Even when Jammies the pacifist tried to come between us, we kept fighting. Even when Wendell the Pest circled us yipping like a French ninny we kept fighting.
It was a good one. We both enjoyed it. We were preheated.
(Video from fight coming soon....)
Anyway the point is it never really got hot here this summer and that's part of the reason some of the milkers have started going into pre-heat. They don't really go into heat, but they go into pre-heat, and then they go around and start fights with each other. Or when they don't start fights through a lack of gumption or sheer shiftlessness in the case of Pinky who can't be bothered to start her own squabbles they join in the fights that are already started by the more ambitious.
On a side note Cherry went actually into heat and then realized it was too soon to be in heat but by that time she had jumped into the buck pen where three smelly swains immediately began vying for her favor. Luckily she was able to excuse herself unnoticed as the vying reached a crescendo. As she tiptoed back to the barn, they all continued vying without her. Why not, they had already started.
Anyway this morning I started thinking about some annoying things that have been happening lately. The main one is when people come over and say, "Oh my Gosh! Look at Millie! She is all grown up now! She is adorable!"
That's fine but they are looking at Abby when they say it.
"That's Abby," the farmer explains, "Millie is over there."
"She's cute too!" they say.
The more I thought about this the more infuriating it seemed.
So I went over to Abby and started a fight. The fight lasted for three hours. Even when Wronny wanted me to stop I kept fighting. Even when Jammies the pacifist tried to come between us, we kept fighting. Even when Wendell the Pest circled us yipping like a French ninny we kept fighting.
It was a good one. We both enjoyed it. We were preheated.
(Video from fight coming soon....)
Friday, August 05, 2011
Three Flies and a Velvet Glove
It took only seven years but finally it happened, like the return of the locusts. Hannah Belle as you may remember has never been properly milked out because she is exceedingly shrewd. But she has two flies in her ointment. One is she is a terrible pig and loves any kind of food. Two she loves scratches and petting. Also she is quite vain. I guess that makes three flies.
The farmer switched from iron hand which hadn't worked for seven years to velvet glove. Hannah Belle would not get any grain except on the milkstand. The farmer made sure she was good and hungry before she went on the milkstand. No more all-day snacking, just grass hay between meals.
When she got on the milkstand the farmer would begin praising her to the skies. Such a beautiful goat and so intelligent. Such lovely children and grandchildren. Such a pretty face and a long neck and my goodness, the topline, the chine, the hips, the pins, the thurls. Was there ever a more magnificent goat? And by the way, that time she got out of the locked horse trailer - how did she do that? Did she call someone to come and let her out?
More snacks? How about a pretzel with PEANUT BUTTER inside it? From Trader Joe's, not from the convenience store. The farmer showed Hannah Belle the label.
Then the petting and scratching. On the chest. That itchy spot behind the shoulder. More food.
And then the farmer would start milking very casually, still complimenting Hannah Belle and admiring her every little action and movement - the most transparent fawning, really - and stopping frequently so that it hardly seemed the milking had even really begun and before you know it, only seven years later, Hannah Belle was milked ALL THE WAY OUT and there were no hard feelings.
In the end, even Achilles had heels.
The farmer switched from iron hand which hadn't worked for seven years to velvet glove. Hannah Belle would not get any grain except on the milkstand. The farmer made sure she was good and hungry before she went on the milkstand. No more all-day snacking, just grass hay between meals.
When she got on the milkstand the farmer would begin praising her to the skies. Such a beautiful goat and so intelligent. Such lovely children and grandchildren. Such a pretty face and a long neck and my goodness, the topline, the chine, the hips, the pins, the thurls. Was there ever a more magnificent goat? And by the way, that time she got out of the locked horse trailer - how did she do that? Did she call someone to come and let her out?
More snacks? How about a pretzel with PEANUT BUTTER inside it? From Trader Joe's, not from the convenience store. The farmer showed Hannah Belle the label.
Then the petting and scratching. On the chest. That itchy spot behind the shoulder. More food.
And then the farmer would start milking very casually, still complimenting Hannah Belle and admiring her every little action and movement - the most transparent fawning, really - and stopping frequently so that it hardly seemed the milking had even really begun and before you know it, only seven years later, Hannah Belle was milked ALL THE WAY OUT and there were no hard feelings.
In the end, even Achilles had heels.
Monday, August 01, 2011
Hi Mom
Hannah Belle's kids Charlie and Little Belle went to a new home. We just got this postcard from them. It's always nice when kids write.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Still Undefeated
The farmer set up the milkstand in the middle of the barn aisle for purposes of milking Hannah Belle ALL THE WAY OUT.
Onlookers looked on.
Hannah Belle jumped right on the stand and began eating as fast as she could.
"That's nice," said the farmer. "How nice."
The farmer started milking at top speed.
Things went very well for two minutes, then Hannah Belle began performing milk evading maneuvers which drew oohs and ahs of appreciation from the spectators. Not since Scouty's udder was bitten by a spider have we seen this type of Cirque du Soleil performance.
I was frankly expecting a better showing but in fairly short order the farmer looked into the bucket dreamily, where there was two minutes worth of beautiful Nigerian milk, and said, "this will be enough for several lattes."
And that was that.
7 to 0.
Onlookers looked on.
Hannah Belle jumped right on the stand and began eating as fast as she could.
"That's nice," said the farmer. "How nice."
The farmer started milking at top speed.
Things went very well for two minutes, then Hannah Belle began performing milk evading maneuvers which drew oohs and ahs of appreciation from the spectators. Not since Scouty's udder was bitten by a spider have we seen this type of Cirque du Soleil performance.
I was frankly expecting a better showing but in fairly short order the farmer looked into the bucket dreamily, where there was two minutes worth of beautiful Nigerian milk, and said, "this will be enough for several lattes."
And that was that.
7 to 0.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Smackdown Scheduled
Everyone here is very excited. Hannah Belle's kids went home yesterday. That's too bad, but they got a nice home so it isn't sad. Hannah Belle isn't bothered.
But she is carrying around about a gallon of delicious Nigerian milk.
Which means that this morning the farmer announced, "Look at you, Hannah Belle, you will get pretty tired carrying that big bag of milk around. I will milk you out this evening."
The farmer says this every year.
"I mean ALL the way out," the farmer clarifies, for the edification of the po-faced onlookers.
"Oh really," says Hannah Belle, t-boning a mini-mancha out of her way at the feeder.
Hannah Belle is seven years old. So the farmer has said this six times. The score is Hannah Belle 6, Farmer 0.
Stay tuned.
But she is carrying around about a gallon of delicious Nigerian milk.
Which means that this morning the farmer announced, "Look at you, Hannah Belle, you will get pretty tired carrying that big bag of milk around. I will milk you out this evening."
The farmer says this every year.
"I mean ALL the way out," the farmer clarifies, for the edification of the po-faced onlookers.
"Oh really," says Hannah Belle, t-boning a mini-mancha out of her way at the feeder.
Hannah Belle is seven years old. So the farmer has said this six times. The score is Hannah Belle 6, Farmer 0.
Stay tuned.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Betty's Dilemma
Well I shut off my milk because I was afraid my chandelier might start looking too good and I did NOT want to go to the fair. I just shut it off like a faucet.
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!"
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
Bloody Murder
Well today some people came and got Duchess, Betty's daughter. She is going to live in the north of France. Or maybe Granite Falls? Someplace like that. Anyway Duchess didn't seem to mind much because they had alfalfa in their car and she couldn't cry while she was eating so the mother and child separation was a little muted to say the least.
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.
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
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)