Adagio for Strings

Part 1. Goat Spring turns to Goat Winter.

Sometimes it seems very hard to get ahead in the world. You work and you work. And what happens. Nothing.

All summer I was eating blackberry bushes through the fence. Now the horses are in our summer pasture and the blackberries are just growing back. The horses are too high and mighty to eat blackberry bushes, all they will eat is apples and grass.

At first I was disgruntled about this but then I realized it is actually good. There will just be more blackberries when we go back in the front pasture.

We tried to put on a nice revolution and what happened. Nothing. The farmer fixed the fence and the Goat Spring is over. At first this seemed unfair but then I realized it keeps the milkers from hogging our meager supply of food. Sometimes the 'revolution' favors the fat. A fence can be better than a revolution.

I made a plan to become Top Milker some day and then I realized that I am not going to get any bigger and Wronny is about three times my size and I don't think anyone as small as me with no sisters has ever been Top Milker so it's probably impossible. But I did make some sisters, and maybe we can all pool our milk to become Top Milker together.

If not, we will just go around saying we are Top Milker, like Betsy does. Sometimes saying it makes it so. And after all, Top Milker is a state of mind.

Part 2. My brush with immortality, starring Abby.

A lady came over who was an artist and explained she wanted to do goat paintings.

The farmer did not know quite what to say so settled for "I see."

The lady suggested starting with a picture of a little goat and she pointed to me. "This one would be perfect."

"That's Millie," said the farmer.

"I could start with Millie," the lady said, then lapsed into a long story about herself and how she had become an artist because of her keen powers of observation and her sensitivity.

"I see," said the farmer.

The lady wanted to know if Millie (that's me) would be a good goat for a painting. She would take a picture first and then do the painting from the picture.

"Millie would be fine for that," said the farmer, mysteriously not mentioning Pebbles at all in spite of Pebbles' extreme talent for being photographed.

Then the lady explained to the farmer that she was going to observe me with her keen powers of observation before taking the picture so that she would be able to capture me perfectly. "Her inner essence."

"Okay," said the farmer. The lady studied me for several minutes with pursed eyes then she went to her car to get her camera and she came back and she spent quite a while using her keen powers of observation as she followed Abby around and then captured her perfectly on the camera.

"Thank you," said the lady as she was leaving. "And thank you, Millie!" she said, waving to Abby.

If you see a painting somewhere of a little goat that looks like it is from Oregon and it is simpering at the camera and the picture is called "Millie's Inner Essence" or something like that, I just wanted you to know that I do not simper and it isn't me.

Part 3. The Family Tree.

Some people came in late and they are confused about who I am.

I am Herron Hill's Million Belles, known as Baby Belle Jr. People call me Millie.

I am not the original Baby Belle. My grandmother Baby Belle was the original Baby Belle. Don't worry, we are doing an infographic about it.

Being Baby Belle is like being the Queen, or the Dalai Lama, or Punxsutawney Phil. You cannot choose it. It chooses you.

Ommm.

Everybody's Learning How

This is why I would never move to California.

Pebbles, Without Her Jacket

Send help!

Oh Well

The fence was fixed in the usual higgledy piggledy fashion and the rebellion quashed and the Goat Spring is over. I guess they were right, you can't fight City Hall.

Occupy the KP

Okay we started our own Occupy movement and right now we are occupying the middle pasture where the milkers and the upper 1% (BP et al) get grain and alfalfa. Unlike us, we only get grass hay and a smattering of grain and none of us have jackets or parkas not that we want them they look ridiculous.

But anyway we are occupying. That's mostly because the fence is broken and several other things broke after the fence broke and the other things are on a priority track while the fence is languishing in its broken state. Meaning that anyone who could jump over a caterpillar can jump over the fence.

Even Betsy got out and she is the most Nubian of all our remaining Nubian crosses. Right now she is occupying a little patch of land in front of the buck pen, walking back and forth and yelling out her demands in a very unambiguous manner.

We are putting together a list of other demands besides Betsy's and we will present them to someone if anyone ever shows up. If no one shows up we will present them to Wendell.

Let us know if you would like to join our  movement I have a feeling it will go viral. Or maybe I am just coming down with something. Anyway it is the only Occupy movement on the Key Peninsula so you will probably be hearing about it on the news. Or maybe not.

Power to the 99%!!!!

No Parkaing

Pebbles has grown too fat for her stolen parka, and today it was returned to Wendell. I had not wanted to mention anything, but when she wore it yesterday for the last time it looked like a bikini top on a harbor seal.

You cannot imagine the sadness we all feel when we see the Bitter Pill braving our Arctic temperatures (51F today) clad only in a fur coat and a layer of ill-gotten hand-fed blubber.

At Your Service

Well this time of year usually the does are not allowed in the pasture outside the buck pen and there is a good reason for it as you will see in this video but anyway there are some fence repairs going on so there have been some exceptions made to the rule and it is really taking a lot out of the bucks since their motto is that they are at your service any time of the day or night no appointment needed and no questions asked.

By the way that is Rosie trying to break into the buck pen and we are all very embarrassed for her. Or we would be, in a perfect world.

My New Sisters

How the Sopranos came to rule the farm is that first of all they have leadership qualities. The primary leadership quality that a leader has is that a leader leads. You cannot lead from the back. You must lead from the front. Make a note of this if you are thinking of pursuing a career in leadership.

The second thing a leader has is followers.

So if you think you are a leader because you are headed out in front and you look behind and no one is following you, bad news, you are not a leader. It's nice that you are out in front, but possibly you are going in the wrong direction. If no one is following you you are not a leader.

Don't worry you may have other nice qualities. Perhaps you are good at sleeping on a cushion, like Wendell. Not everybody can sleep on a cushion for hours at a time.

It is also helpful if you are thinking of becoming a leader to have a big family, especially a lot of sisters and daughters who go around repeating your opinions and turning them into fact and ratifying your decisions and implementing all your fiats and decrees.

When Brandy heads out into the pasture for the first time every spring, Wronny and Winnie say, "oh, good idea, I was just going to suggest that, let's go."

And off they go in a column and you would be foolish not to follow them.

Anyway I don't know if I want to be the leader of anything but I might and it occurred to me that I do not have any sisters since I only have one brother. My BFFN Abby has a sister but her sister went to a new home so really she has no sisters either.

So I decided to promote Abby and she is my sister now. And we decided to make Jammies our sister too since Jammies' sister left also. But Jammies wanted Bumbles to be one of our sisters and I told her, "Jammies, Bumbles is your daughter so she can't be your sister."

"Why not," intoned Jammies, giving us sad-eyed looks. "Pinky is Tangy's sister and she is her daughter too."

"Yes but that was an accident," explained Abby.

"Accidents happen, don't they?" asked Jammies.

This was a stumper and we had no answer for it, so like good leaders we changed our position in light of the new circumstances and now Jammies, Bumbles, Abby and I are all sisters.

If you think you can take us on then just go ahead and try.

Any Fries With That?

Me, Millie, (R) and the BP's sister Sandy (L)

This is a picture of me with the Bitter Pill's sister Sandy. We have been having beautiful weather which is very unusual for this time of year. Or any time of year, really. As you can see the sky is perfectly blue.

Anyway it was a busy weekend because everyone came in heat including me which as you may know is very taxing and puts a lot of downward pressure on your IQ. You can feel yourself getting dumber and not understanding clever jokes or how to unlock a stall door or why you are supposed to stay out of Wronny's way and so on. For me it is ok because of my extraordinary intelligence. Even with a few points off I can still function like a normal goat.

But Binky for example came into heat and was no longer able to identify the barn and before much longer she was no longer able to identify the grain bucket which is pretty much the point of no return. She just stood in the pasture bawling and looking at Junior and startling herself whenever she would catch sight of her tail if she turned her head. As a test the farmer put a full bucket of grain right next to her and she could not identify it. So very sad.

My daughter Izzy came in heat and was whisked off to the drive-through buck service to meet the Tiny Giant. After she got back she would not talk about anything else, how wonderful the Tiny Giant was and how manly and so on.

"Uh huh," said all the does who weren't in heat.

When you are not in heat you cannot imagine a duller topic than bucks. Really, tell me some more about your smelly little friend.

"He looks like a giant," gushed Izzy, "only much smaller."

"No kidding," said the unheated does, elbowing and mashing their way around the hay feeder.

"He has such a charming blubber, I can't really describe it,"

"Then don't," suggested Lucy, hogging as much alfalfa as she could.