KBetsy et al

As you know our farm is ruled by the Soprano family, which is Brandy and the daughters of Brandy, and their daughters and so on, including Wronny, Winnie, Maddy (aka the Sheriff of Crazytown), Jessie, Winnie Jr., Morchella, etc.

But the Betsy family has been hinting that it would like to take over some of the power which will never happen because the Betsy family is part Nubian and if they ever sat down to sign the papers the Betsy family would agree to the $5,000 undercoating and rock-chip prevention, the $2,000 Scotchgarded seats, the document fees, the extended warranty to the year 2525, and all the other fine print that the Sopranos would add in while the Betsy family was focusing on the free popcorn in the manager's office.

So I don't think the Betsy Family can rise to the top, but there is no doubt that they have risen and they definitely seem to think that they should have their own clan name, like the Sopranos.

So I tried to think of a good name and the first thing that sprang to mind of course was the Kardashians, which kind of sums up the Betsy Family.

But the problem with that is that almost all of them would have to change their names, and it took so long to learn the ones they have that it doesn't seem like a good idea.

You know what I mean: Kbetsy, Kbig Orange, Kxie xie, Kbinky, Ktangy, Kpinky.

Kclementine would be ok, I guess.

So please let me know if you can think of a better name for the Betsy Family. Thanks.

Look Out, World

The farmer has a new idiot-proof camera.

24/7/1095

Well Wronny is almost five and she has been milking practically her whole life, the farmer sat down and figured out that she has been out of milk for a total of six weeks since she was a yearling, which is not very much and probably a violation of union rules. This is her own fault and she has no one else to blame for it because in spite of the fact that she doesn't really go in for love and kisses she is the type of goat whom anyone can milk, so she was always kept in milk for the cheesemaking classes.


Winnie is also the type of goat anyone can milk, even more so, and she tolerates hugging pretty well, but she has a habit of not settling, which is what she did last year, so she has been off work since last spring.


Well anyway Wronny got dried off as I mentioned and she will have at least five months off since she isn't bred yet. I'm sure she will use the time wisely to boss everyone around and probably develop some kind of Wronny Boot Camp for the feeble-minded and disobedient.

Tangy will be her first camper; Tangy accidentally forgot that she wasn't the Boss of Everything and got a refresher course the other day when she scrambled ahead of Wronny at the hay feeder.

The other milkers are all dried off, too, so there is no milk. Except wait, Cherry didn't want to dry off, she kept on milking so she is on once a day milking only for the purpose of latte milk. Cherry is part Nubian so it always seemed like she might not be a good candidate for student milkers but lately you can't get her off the milkstand and she loves being scratched and petted almost to the point of unseemliness and so I hate to break it to her but she might not get a day off for the next three years.


That's 1095 days if you do the math.


Congratulations, Cherry.

STARTLING FACTS

Today is Wednesday. It is a day of startling FACTS.

I will use CAPS to draw your attention to these FACTS in case you are feeling sleepy.

The SUN is shining BRIGHTLY in spite of the fact that it is NOVEMBER.  They say that it will not RAIN for at least the NEXT WEEK. I personally do not believe it but I will wait and see what happens.

WRONNY our herdqueen has been DRIED OFF. Wronny is five and she has been milking since she was a yearling with only about six weeks off in all that time.  She does not like being dried off and it has not improved her personality.

I am IN HEAT and I have been denied my CONJUGAL rights and I am going to do something about it. In case you are wondering I feel very EMPHATIC today.

Those are the startling facts. Now for some not so startling facts.

Pinky is NOT GETTING ANY SMARTER.

Brandy is NOT GETTING ANY YOUNGER.

Willen is NOT GETTING ANY THINNER.

Also today is the LAST DAY in the Mannapro video contest. Our cousins at Minter Bay entered a video starring Farmer Wendy and you should go and see it if you haven't and vote thumbs up for it to help them win the prize.

My cousin Cora Belle is in it, HOGGING SPECIAL FOOD as her whole family is prone to do.

Thanks

Well it is Thanksgiving today and we are counting our blessings.

Our blessings are:

It isn't raining right now because it is saving up for the monsoon that is planned for this afternoon.

Precious Precious Pebbles did not freeze without her jacket because she was able to develop a thick layer of blubber from all the special treats she got.

Brandy is still alive even though she is an old bag and she even started bossing Wronny around again which everyone politely ignored because Wronny is the Boss of Everything and you shouldn't act like she is being bossed around even if you see it with your own eyes.

The hay did not run out yet.

The grain did not run out yet.

Jammies sleeps in the pile next to me and she is like a cast-iron potbelly stove.

Betsy's eye grew back.

That little mini-mancha daughter of Binky's finally went out of heat and stopped screaming.

The helpers came and put the roof back on the buck shed. (The farmer is too fat to go up there.)

I have three new sisters.

Tomorrow is another day.

Thanks.

Go Like the Wind

The Internet travels so fast that you think you know everything right away. But then it turns out you weren't paying attention and something you would like to have known zipped by while you were eating your alfalfa.

A few years ago the farmer went to a special screening in Seattle of the movie Seabiscuit. There were a lot of kids there and an emcee came out and he said before the movie started there was a special guest to introduce and would everyone mind sitting quietly for a moment and then one of the doors to the movie theater opened and a big bay horse walked in from the lobby, as serene as you please with a jockey on top, and matter-of-factly clopped down the long staircase from the back of the theater and went right up to the podium in front of the movie screen.

As calm as you please, not batting an eye when the auditorium erupted in applause despite the announcer's suggestion about sitting quietly.

The horse was Chinook Pass, the only Washington-bred Eclipse Award winner, and the one-time fastest horse in the world.

I suppose being the fastest horse in the world is not a bad trick, but there was something about this horse that was more interesting than that, something you wouldn't very much expect from the fastest horse in the world, and that was the way he radiated peace. Marty used to do that. And I have seen Jammies do it once or twice.

Perhaps it was because his best friend was a goat.

Anyway, we just found out that Chinook Pass died last year at the age of 31, and we were very sorry to hear it.

We send our condolences to Ellie.

Milk Time

Wendell isn't allowed to milk and you can see why in this video.

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!