The Most Beautiful Squirrel in the World

Life is full of mistakes. Every time you turn around there is some kind of mistake. Just yesterday I stood next to Betsy at the feeder. That was a mistake.

Years ago there was a mistake made in the Boxcar Betty family. That's because there is a rule of thumb. If you are in the Belle family and you are very special, you are supposed to get a Belle name. Hannah Belle, Cora Belle, Belle Pepper, Million Belles (that's me). But when Betty was born she tumbled out like a little pair of dice, just a black-and-white ball flashing polka dots across the straw, and the farmer said "Boxcars!"

That name stuck and she became Boxcar Betty.

She should have had a Belle name. But she didn't. So that meant none of her kids had Belle names. Because it was a rule of thumb. Duchess should have had a Belle name. And so should Iota.

And when Iota had her kids, they weren't eligible for Belle names, and they didn't seem particularly to need them because they looked like squirrels. So the girl was named Cloud 9 (Cloudy) and that seemed ok for a few weeks. But then she began to grow into herself, shaking off her baby funk. And she began to develop a certain type of personality that has been seen before here, a personality that reminds everyone of a certain someone. And she did not look anything like a squirrel any more, or if she did, she was the most beautiful squirrel in the world.

Luckily our farmer is weak-minded, and hadn't gotten around to sending any papers in, and yesterday the farmer said, hmm, I think you might need a new name.

And so here it is years later and what do you know. The mistake of Betty's name has been fixed. So you see all those mistakes you made don't have to be set in stone. They are only mistakes in your mind. Change your mind and you can fix them.

There's a new Belle in town.


Iota's Daughter

Milk Time!

We Love Our Work from herron hill on Vimeo.

We Aren't Mice

Well today it was a nice day. There was no ice storm. There wasn't any hail. It didn't really even rain. It was cold in the morning, but it was very nice in general.

So that is one nice day we have had this year.

Here's something funny. Betty the new herd queen has a set of triplets. One is Cubby, the friendliest little goat in the world. If he ever sees a person he runs pronging toward them and throws himself into their arms. Then there is Clover, the triplet girl. She is about the same as Cubby, maybe about 18% less enthusiastic, still way up there on the Friendlies Chart.

Then there is the little tiny one that looks just like Betty, only very pinched. His name used to be Midget, but now he is just called The Wart. Short for worrywart. That's all he does.

Worry.Worry worry worry.

If it isn't raining, he worries that it will start raining. If it is raining, he worries it will stop.

"We need rain for our crops." he says. (What crops? Is he talking about the goat berries?)

If it is time to go outside, he worries that there might be intruders outside. That's ridiculous, intruders come inside. That's why they're called intruders. If it is time to come inside, he worries that a cat might be waiting under the feeder in the stall.

"So what?" everyone says. "What is a cat going to do?"

"Cats kill mice," he explains, ominously.

"So what?" everyone says. "We aren't mice."

Today the farmer came to take all the babies outside, all seven of them. Six went pronging cheerfully out the door. Not the Wart.

"I'm not going," he yelled, from under the feeder. "I'm afraid I'll get separated from everybody."

Then when everyone had disappeared from sight, he ran screaming out of the barn.

Who is this kid anyway? His mother is the Queen, his father is totally chill. And he is The Wart.

Little dude, why not forget all that hassle and relax like Cubby and Clover? Like Cloudy and Horatio? Like the two little LaManchas, what are their names anyway? Have some Cherry Trance Milk and just relax.

My Enemy My Friend

Well what about Abby. Abby is Moldy's daughter and she is Pebbles' mother so she tends to get overshadowed between the Beauty Queen and the Crackpot Oregonian. She used to be my enemy but now she is my best friend. This often happens with enemies. It is because she is a lot like me in spite of the fact that she comes from Oregon even though she was born here. I have come to realize now that I am more mature that you can't help coming from Oregon. It is like being struck by lightning. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Anyway people always think she is my twin which she isn't.

Abby is quite pretty and she went to the Fair last year and right before she was going to show Pebbles snuck over and drank just about every last drop of milk so she didn't look that good at showtime which she couldn't give a hoot about but she came in third anyway which was pretty good considering she is from Oregon and so on.

Anyway Abby is bred to Jackie again so we are bracing ourselves for the arrival of more little Pebbles but in the meantime Abby has been growing herself out.

Now that she is a 2-year-old she is much deeper and broader and her dairy character is going through the roof but anyway the farmer looked at her yesterday and said, "she really doesn't look too horrible," which means that she will be going back out on the show circuit this year and she is probably the only goat in the world who will be pleased by that news.

Long Live the Queen

Boxcar Betty used to be mild-mannered and obedient. She even went to one show and walked like a princess and won first place and the judge said: "that is the cutest thing I have ever seen."

Then Betty started hanging around with her mother, Hannah Belle. And Betty vowed never to go to another show.

Hannah Belle always thought that obedience was for losers.

So if someone like Pinky would come down and announce that all the milkers were supposed to go to the milk parlor, Hannah Belle would not even get up, she would just turn her head in a leisurely fashion and pop a fresh cud and drawl: "Says Who?"

Hannah Belle was also a master of the head flip - if you haven't read up in your goat glossary the head flip is very similar to its counterpart in the encyclopedia of human gestures. If a goat gives you the head flip, it is the same as if a person flipped you off.

The meaning is: don't stand near me, don't look at my food, move along and stop blotting out the light, outside under the rain gutter would be a good place for you to stand.  Hannah Belle could keep another goat in the opposite corner of her stall without getting up - why get up? that's so much trouble -  by means of the head flip. Iota to this day really doesn't venture into the nook nearest the door in Hannah Belle's stall. She was head-flipped out of it by a master. That kind of head flip leaves a lasting impression, especially on a small potato like Iota.

Until recently Betty was not much of a flipper.

That's all changed: Betty can hardly stop flipping now.

She flipped Blue, she flipped Belle Pepper, she flipped me, she flipped Izzy, she flipped Moldy (not that Moldy noticed), she flipped all the yearlings. She just flipped.

Now, when she is on the other side of the fence, she even flips Pinky, who by this time weighs about a thousand pounds. But discretion is the better part of flipping, and she doesn't flip Wronny or even Brandy. That's a mark of respect - one world leader to another.

We thought it would be a long time before a Nigerian battled to the top of the ladder.

But just yesterday I heard Sandy asking whether it would be okay to go under the broken fence rail and into the driveway and up the hill to the barn and try to stampede the alfalfa.

And Pebbles gave a stumped look and gazed off into the distance and said, "I guess we better ask Betty."

Long Live the Queen.

Sky Milk

Iota had an attack of knuckleheadedness yesterday and wriggled onto the wrong side of the fence where she spent almost the whole day bawling for her babies. Anyway her optimistic little daughter on the other side of the fence began to look for milk in the sky as the day wore on.

Peanut often did this, just turning his face up to the clouds and assuming the nursing position, so we call it the Peanut-cloud position. I never saw it but there must have been a day when he did find a little white milk cloud, possibly hovering over the honey tree.

Wait a Minute

Well Cherry did it again and it is getting a little ridiculous.

She has already been reprimanded once for kids out of wedlock and this year she didn't get bred because she needed to take some time off  because she milked herself down to skin and bones just like Jimmy.

Just the other day the farmer said to Cherry, "see, Cherry, this vacation is doing you a world of good. You almost look a little bit chubby. Almost."

Well anyway the farmer came out yesterday morning and there was a plaintive meek crying in the background that could only be described as Nubianesque. The farmer showed surprising alertness and within a few minutes said, "wait a minute, that does not sound like Nigerian babies." Nigerian babies are not known for their plaintive meek crying.

Then the farmer went and looked at the five Nigerian babies and they were all asleep in a pile and the plaintive meek crying continued and the farmer said, "wait a minute," and shortly after that was able to discover the two little black doelings that Cherry had just dropped off under the hay feeder in the back stall.

"Wait a minute," said the farmer, and took the two little babies out, and then the farmer said, "wait a minute," because Cherry had very cunningly had them of a perfect size so that they might be little LaManchas or on the other hand they might be big mini-Manchas, so who knew if their father was a Nigerian or a LaMancha. So there was no clue as to their paternal heritage, and then the farmer took them out into the sun to look at them more closely, and although they didn't have wattles or blue eyes it turned out that they weren't really black either but a sort of dark coppery color we haven't seen before that much.

Except of course on Cherry, who is a Big Orange daughter, black with coppery highlights. And on Chaos the Nigerian buck who is so handsome and distinguished. And then they were decidedly on the smallish side, well one was anyway. But their ears were very LaManchaesque.

And in the end the farmer said "I give up." They will be signed up for a DNA test.

Cherry went right back to milking like a fish and when Betty's kids had their horns off yesterday and were feeling blue, two of them gladly gobbled the extra Cherry milk even though they are not bottle babies. Midget, a dyed-in-the-wool Mama's Boy, declined to participate. So he huddled miserably in the corner while Cubby and Clover took a ride on Cherry's Stupefying Milk Train to the Land of Nod.

The Void

No one has mentioned it but there is a void. A big void.

It has been so miserable and rainy and snowy and sleety that we cannot start to fill the void.

The void can only be filled when all of us are together in the sun.

It is very easy when you are in your stall listening to rain drumming on the roof to say to yourself, "I certainly am the only one here with the intelligence and savoir faire to become the next Nigerian leader and once I have assumed  my rightful position I will make sure that certain parties do not hog all the oats and I will also announce a day in my honor where the humble peninsula dwellers may come and worship me bringing small totems of swedish fish."

But then you look around and you can read clearly the thought bubbles hanging in the air and it is apparent that everyone is thinking the same thing, except the ones who do not know fancy phrases like savoir faire, and they are thinking the same thing minus the French.

At this point it is embarrassing if you accidentally make eye contact with someone.

But let's be realistic, who could actually be the next leader?

The obvious choices would be Hannah Belle's sisters, Blue or my mother Belle Pepper.

But Blue has RPD (retiring personality disorder) and she can't even get her own children to come when she calls. And my mother Belle Pepper is too much of a free spirit, and too kindly. Next down the line would be Jammies the candy milker, a 7/8 Nigerian and a Captain January daughter like Blue and Belle Pepper. But Jammies has no stomach for herd politics. Not to mention no ears, which are kind of required for this position.

What about Eo, half Nigerian? Completely anti-social.

Abby or Moldy? Too much Oregon. Me? Too Young. Iota or Terra or the yearlings? Too young, too young, too young.

Well who does that leave then?

Stay tuned, as a new ruler emerges from the shadows....(right now pretend you are hearing a dark burst of duh-duh-duh organ music offstage, something that makes you gasp)

Ride Wanted (Lakebay to Lagos)

The Key Peninsula Expedition; Day 150.

Dear Diary: Now it is sleeting, with iceballs dancing in the feeders and the wind blowing a gale from all directions at once. I fear it is too late to turn back. Also, I do not know how we got here. Oh wait, I was born here. But someone must know the way back to Nigeria, to the ancestral home of the Dwarfs? Is it on I-5 or further east?

Send In the Lion

Every morning when we wake up it is freezing cold. This morning the fields are carpeted with frost. Today they say don't be surprised by scattered snow. Also don't be surprised by miserable rain and endless mud. It is a little bit like the endless winter of Narnia before the lion comes.

And then on tv Cubby* saw people in shorts walking around in Chicago and Minnesota and New York and all kinds of places where no one would mind if it snowed.

Cubby saw pictures of the cherry blossoms in full bloom along the Tidal Basin, sad news for the Cherry Blossom Festival because the blossoms will be gone by the time the festival starts. Cubby saw schnauzers in puppy cuts skipping along Lake Michigan. Places where it ought to be snowing. Places where if it snowed in the middle of March on the day before the first day of spring it wouldn't be on Page One. It would maybe be down near the bottom of Page Three, next to the news about the man dressed as a giant bunny rabbit who interrupted the city council meeting.

 So anyway ok that's enough. We get it. You made your point. Send in the lion.

 *Cubby has turned into a lap goat and he goes inside to to watch the news

Iota and the Squirrels

Ok here is the whole family. Iota has been developing a magnificent topknot, I must say.

Beautiful Screamers

In these photos Lori tries unsuccessfully to explain the farm's strict "No Screaming" policy to the squirrels.