Lambs, lambs, lambs

Well obviously baby sheep are not as cute as baby goats. But these come pretty close...

Brandy's Big Baby Part Two: R-E-S-P-E-C-T

Everybody wants it. But not everybody wants to earn it. It is a lot of trouble earning respect. Unfortunately there is no other way to get it.

Unless...

Take for example the case of my daughter Hannah Belle and the farmer. Hannah Belle likes the farmer, but she knows all too well how to act cute and apologetic whenever she gets caught doing something bad, so she gets away with quite a bit of dubious behavior. For example, almost every morning now Hannah Belle jumps over the five-and-a-half-foot wall of her stall as soon as she hears the farmer come out. Hannah Belle is a tad tubby, and she is on a diet, so she is not supposed to get grain. So the farmer doesn't give her any grain.

But she knows the farmer has grain, so she just jumps out and follows the farmer around trying to freeload cob or whatever is on the menu for the nsf (not-so-fat) goats. She nibbles and grabs and snatches here and there until the farmer gets annoyed and puts her back in her stall.

This performance may be repeated several times a day, depending on how energetic Hannah Belle is feeling. Each time she weaves and bobs and pilfers until the farmer gets aggravated, then she gets put back in her stall.

But since yesterday, the farmer has been letting Brandy out during feeding. Brandy thinks the farmer is her baby, and likes to follow the farmer around.

Well yesterday Hannah Belle jumped out of her stall as usual and ran up to the farmer. When she saw Brandy, who turned toward her in slow motion like a bull in the ring, she did a cartoon-character doubletake and put on the brakes in a hurry. She went into a 4-wheel roadrunner skid, but too late to keep from jostling the farmer.

Everyone was watching, and you could hear a pin drop.

Hannah Belle had touched Brandy's baby.

You probably know what happened then. Brandy first grabbed Hannah Belle's ear and bit down hard, then spun her in a half-turn and t-boned her into the wall, then grabbed the other ear and bit down hard, which caused Hannah Belle to turn around in the opposite direction. Brandy t-boned her other side, then took a step backward in preparation for a third t-boning, but Hannah Belle scurried around to the opposite side of the farmer, waving the white flag.

She politely averted her eyes from Brandy to show that everything that had happened was a misunderstanding, and that she would never disrespect Brandy's baby in any way, she would rather stick a fork in her eye, and she moved in shadow step with the farmer to her stall door and then gave the farmer the high sign, "let me in, quick!"

And that is where she has stayed since, as long as Brandy is following the farmer around.

The moral of the story is that if your mama is the herdqueen, you don't have to earn nothing. Even in the animal kingdom, there is such a thing as a silver spoon. And right now, the farmer is really enjoying the view from the top.

Feeling Sheepish

Whew, close call this morning. Atty was chasing a crow off the property - he does not allow crows to land in the pasture - and he ran full speed into the farmer, because he was looking up in the sky instead of where he was going. Well that would have been fine because he just brushed the farmer and didn't do any harm, except Brandy was standing right next to the farmer, since she thinks the farmer is her baby and follows the farmer everywhere, murmuring encouragement. I think she is concerned that the farmer is a special needs baby, so she monitors the farmer very closely.

"Look at you, " she walks along behind the farmer saying, "you are walking all by yourself! And they say you are big and clumsy! How absurd! Keep going, that's it!"

Anyway, Brandy was infuriated when Atty brushed the farmer, and she immediately t-boned him. Now, Atty is usually very tolerant of us goats as long as he is being obeyed, but a full-on t-boning is not on his list of acceptable behaviors, and he turned right around growling and tried to grab Brandy. But luckily the farmer was right there.

So the farmer was able to grab Brandy and restrain her because who knows what she might have done. Hell hath no fury like Brandy when someone messes with one of her babies.

Anyway, if you are tired of reading about goats you can go to the farmer's sister's web site. The farmer's sister is also a farmer, and she works on a beautiful sheep dairy in Tennessee. The lambs have started arriving and there are pictures of the first ones and of the cheese. If you are interested in that type of thing. They do have a few goats, so it isn't a complete waste of time.

The Farmer's Sister's Sheep and Cheese Blog.

The Zen of Peaches

Well, everybody here has a different style. The Soprano Family of LaManchas is bossy and grabby, of course, as we have discussed. The Nubians are relaxed, when they are relaxed. When they are not relaxed, they are prone to panicky bawling and fleeing. Often they flee into danger; Scout once galloped hysterically into a wall and injured herself when she saw the farmer wearing a new hat.

The Toggenburgs are decisive, and they like to make lots of decisions, usually reversing other decisions they have just made: let's do this; no, let's do this; no, let's do this.

The Nigerians are all over the map. Some are smart and thoughtful, like me. Some are needy and self-absorbed, like Breezy.

But the most interesting and complex ones are the crosses, big girls crossed with Nigerians. The miniature Nubians, oddly, are pensive and thoughtful, and hardly ever bawl. The miniature Toggs are shrewd and kind and don't like outsiders. And the mini-manchas, they are something else.

Take Peaches, for example. Peaches is very pretty but ordinary looking, no flashy colors. She doesn't stand out in a crowd. She gives the appearance of being shy and mild-mannered and retiring. She never fights with anybody, she just stands on the fringes of the fracas, looking like she is waiting for a bus.

And she is, in a way.

An interesting thing happens when there is a big upheaval as there has been this week. Skirmishes have been breaking out all over the pasture, because everyone is battling to move up the ladder while Brandy is in the barn. Not Peaches, of course, she just watches the farmer and waits. And what usually happens is this:

The farmer brings the feed out and everyone rushes to the feeders. Winnie finds herself next to April, say, and she turns around - forgetting to eat - and gets into an argument with April. No one notices Peaches, because she looks like she is half-asleep, and her body language says, please ignore me, I am of no consequence, and I certainly would never challenge your authority, oh large important one.

So then April and Winnie get into it, bumping heads, rearing up, telling each other, look, stay away from this food, this is my food. You are a big nobody, and I am one of the most special goats in the world, I am a Goat Idol, and this food is not for you, it is for me, and don't stand that close to me either, by the way.

While they are preoccupied, mild-mannered little Peaches springs - if that isn't too strong a word - into action and eats all the food. She does it very efficiently, like a dolphin, not bothering to taste the food but just throwing it to her stomach, in such a way that by the time April and Winnie have decided who is going to get the food, it is gone. Long gone.

And so is Peaches, who has moved on, to the fringes of another argument, looking drowsy, and waiting for another fight to break out.

And Your Mother Dresses You Funny...

Miss Brandywine is doing better today and eating reasonably well. She has adopted the farmer as her baby, even though she sometimes still hunts through her stall for her real babies. She does it very politely, trying not to hurt the farmer's feelings.

Obviously it is disappointing to have such a big ugly infant after years of delivering the most beautiful kids imaginable, but she is coping well and looking to the future as much as possible.

Meanwhile, out in the pasture, there is a seesaw struggle raging. With Brandy in a convalescent stall in the barn for the next few days, there is a power vacuum at the top of our hierarchy, and chaos has broken loose. On top of that, it is a nice day, so everyone is capering and making a big show of themselves.

As big as she is, Winnie is running back and forth between the barn and the lower pasture, just to show that she can do anything she wants and she doesn't need a reason. April has offered to beat anyone up (anyone a foot shorter than she is) and is strutting around in front of the hay feeder.

Even Boo, generally a pacifist, is rearing up on her back legs and looking for someone to rumble with. Eo has formed a faction with Peaches; they mostly go around giving people dirty looks. Clipper thinks she is the last king of Scotland. In general, the whole place is about like a 7th grade class with a faint-hearted substitute teacher.

Scouty, of course, is gazing into the distance with a puzzled expression, as always. My sister Snow Pea and I have taken advantage of the coup d'etat to help ourselves to extra alfalfa. I may beat Snow Pea up later if necessary. She will have to beat up Wendell if he is foolish enough to come out here.

It just goes to show that sometimes you don't know you have a good leader until the leader is gone.

X1, X2, X3

There are some things that the farmer never talks about because of the fear of jinxing. One of those things was the fact that in the seven years since we have been on the farm, the farmer had never lost a baby goat.

Not even Snowy, the tubby round-headed Nigerian buckling who had to be delivered by c-section after he got stuck fast on the way out. No baby goat that was born alive ever died here.

Until today.

This morning Brandy the herd queen went into labor. This was very bad to begin with, since Brandy was not due until the end of February. The farmer went out in the morning to feed, and everyone was standing around the feeders, quite greedily, as usual, jockeying for position for when the alfalfa flakes are served, and doing the usual ear-biting and tail-pulling.

Except Brandy. Brandy was down in the lower pasture, all alone, and when the farmer went down to look at her, she was calling out softly to her babies, the way the does do when they have just given birth, or when they are about to give birth. This is an unmistakable sound, if you have ever heard it. So the farmer knew right away what was going on.

Brandy was whisked up to the barn, and the farmer ran inside to check the delivery dates again to make sure there was no mistake.

There wasn't. But on the other hand, Viceroy our LaMancha buck is extremely athletic and has long legs, and after all maybe he had somehow jumped out of his pen, and jumped the lower pasture fence, and jumped the upper pasture fence, and come calling on Brandy, and jumped back in before anyone noticed. This was what the farmer said, anyway, even though it didn't sound quite plausible. It was better than thinking that the babies would be born over a month premature.

Everyone agreed, this is probably what happened, even though it didn't really seem likely. After all, things don't have to be likely to happen.

But within an hour Brandy had started to deliver a very tiny baby, and before the baby was even all the way out the farmer could tell that it was dead. This first baby was a little doeling. She never moved or drew a breath.

A half hour later, Brandy delivered a little buckling. At first it seemed that he, too, was dead, but then he wiggled and twitched, and tried to take a breath. But within a few minutes he died.

A half hour after that, Brandy delivered another doeling, tiny and perfect and very beautiful. This little girl fought and fought to live. And even when you couldn't tell if she was still breathing, you could see her heart beating determinedly under her skin.

But in the end she was just too little for this world. So she went on to the next world.

The babies were not really here long enough to get names. So we were calling them X1, X2, and X3, because this is an "X" year in the goat world. But for some reason, the farmer has started calling the last little girl, the one whose heart didn't want to stop beating, Sophie. The way she fought, she just didn't seem like an X3.

Brandy is resting quietly, alone in her stall. Every now and then she calls out softly to her babies.

And that's what happened today at the farm.

Lulu

Wow, Lulu is kind of cool. There are lots of unexpected little things there that you would never find in a "real" bookstore. The farmer just found a calendar for Herron Island. Herron Island is the teeny tiny island down at the end of Herron Road, about two miles (much less as the crow flies) from our farm, which is the Herron Hill Dairy. If you would like to see what our area looks like, you can go and click on the calendar and then click on "preview this calendar" to see some glimpses of the island. There are lots of deer there, they just roam free because it is an island and no one bothers them. Goodness, though, they shouldn't be eating that foxglove! They will all have heart attacks. The farmer was surprised to see that the little ferry got a paint job; it looks good in red.

Heat Wave!!!!!

We are having a heat wave! We had four inches of snow last night but the temperature shot up to 35 degrees today and everyone is trying to stay cool!

Note to Self

Next year, let someone else win the Goat of the Year contest.

When you are on the cover of the farm calendar (i.e. Goat of the Year) nobody looks at your picture. They just turn it over and hang it on a hook. Next year I will go for one of the nice months. September, maybe.

Goat of the Year 2008: Vote for Scouty!

How to Train a Boston Terrier

The horse trainers have a saying. The saying is, "accept any change for the better."

It's because in nature people don't sit on horses and tell them to turn left and right and back up and canter and walk and stand quietly by the gate and go get in that trailer, we're going to the vet. Horses don't naturally see the point of these types of activities, and why should they, it doesn't stop cougars from eating them.

It's like if a horse were training you and said, "come on, let's run as fast as we can all day long, and only stop to eat grass or if we see a pretty mare." You would say, why should I, I don't even like grass. What's in it for me besides a lot of blisters?

And if you just go and sit on a wild horse and tell it to turn left and right and canter when no one has ever done that, you'll probably wish you hadn't. You can try this yourself if you don't believe me.

So you wouldn't start teaching a horse to canter by getting on it and saying "canter." You would start by teaching the horse to walk and then trot and then canter. And you wouldn't start teaching a horse to walk by getting on it and saying "walk." You would start by showing a horse a picture of a saddle in a book from 30 feet away. And if the horse didn't get scared and run away, then that would be a good start. That would be a change for the better.

And then maybe the next time you could show the picture from 20 feet away. And then maybe at some point you could show the horse a real saddle. And then maybe at some point you could let the horse touch the saddle. And so on like that, accepting all the little changes for the better, and not expecting big changes all at once, until all of a sudden, what do you know, you got where you wanted to go without upsetting anyone.

It turns out you can go a long way, just by taking one step in the right direction at a time.

Anyway the whole point of this is I am trying to train Wendell the pest to stop running around me in circles barking like an idiot every time he sees me. At first what I did was run up to him and butt him in the ribs and yell, "stop running around me in circles and barking like an idiot, you idiot!"

Clipper also tried the same method, as you can see in this photo.

That did not work. Now I am using horse training methods. I will let you know what happens.

And Build it 24 Cubits High...

Well, we have put our ark contruction on temporary hiatus, because today, after floods and hurricanes and wind and hail and the creek rising and the trees falling and everything else from this winter that just started but already feels three winters long, we are having a new form of weather: thundersnow. Yes, that's right, we have a few inches on the ground already and it is still drifting down, and in the background you hear the distant rumbling of a summer storm.

Only it is January, and it is snowing.

Well, they say everybody complains about the weather but nobody does anything about it. We'll see about that. I don't plan to just take this lying down. Especially since the "Sopranos" are hogging all the good spots.

Which, by the way, little Wronny who seemed so sweet has now officially been welcomed into the Soprano clan, so now there are three of them instead of just two. As if we didn't have enough trouble.

Thundersnow Update: The Weather People promised quite specifically that it would stop snowing at daylight. But here it is almost eleven and the snow continues, in open defiance of the meteorologists. And the sun is also out, shining quite brightly. Hmm, how odd. I hate to say it, but it almost like they have no idea what they are talking about.

Bad Idea Part Two

I hope the farmer forgets that idea of having "someone" learn to pull a goat cart. Look at this teeny-tiny little goat on YouTube. This type of thing, in my opinion, looks a little too much like work. And anyway, it would be completely undignified for the Goat-of-the-Year.

Happy New Year!

The New Year is here and it's going to be a good one!

Here are my resolutions:

1. Have fun.

2. Eat more.

Since I am Goat-of-the-Year, I am on the cover of the farm calendar. Many of my friends and some of my enemies are on the inside. The calendar goes from February 2007 to January 2008. You can see it here.

We will start the year with some good advice for a rainy day from Paula Sandburg. Paula Sandburg was the wife of the famous poet Carl Sandburg and the sister of the famous photographer Edward Steichen. More importantly, she was perhaps the premiere goat breeder of her time, and remains a legend in the dairy goat world today.

Paula and Carl lived their later years on a beautiful farm called Connemara in Western North Carolina. If you are in the area, you can visit it - it is a National Park now, and has been preserved just as it was. Even a few descendants of the original champion goats remain.

Anyway, Paula wrote to a friend once with some good advice for what to do if you are feeling down or gloomy:

"When blue, there is nothing like working with the goats to make one forget. It is impossible to be blue in the kid yard - utterly impossible!"

We guarantee you that this is still true today. Just go and sit with some baby goats if you get to feeling down.

Goodbye, 2006

I am putting together my year-end list since it is New Year's Eve.

My favorite book of the year: "The Goat Lady," by Jane Bregoli. Jane Bregoli is an elementary school art teacher who lives in Dartmouth, Massuchusetts. The book is a true story about her neighbor, a lady everyone thought was eccentric until they bothered to get to know her. She raised goats and loved them very much. The book is full of beautiful paintings of the goat lady and her goats. You can see excerpts and paintings from the book here.

My favorite babies of the year: my two sons Huckleberry and Barbaro.

Best doeling of the year: little orphan Betsy, the Nubian-LaMancha cross. Betsy is smart like a LaMancha and sweet like a sweet Nubian.

Best horse of the year: Willen. Willen the Haflinger learned to drive this year. Right now he has a learner's permit. Next year maybe he can get a full license.

Best milker of the year: Runner-up goat-of-the-year Scouty is the surprise winner of best milker. She is still milking and everyone else (except Boo) is dried off.

Craziest goat of the year: April always wins this.

Best dog of the year and of all time: Spenny the border collie.

Best REALLY old border collie: KT Bailey.

Best guard dog and protector: Atticus (is that a Shetland Pony?) Pupicus.

Worst dog of the year: Wendell. Or as the farmer says: "WENDELL!! DID YOU DO THIS??!!!!"

Friends we miss and hope to see again: Marigold, little Martina, Marty, The General, Traveler, Harper Lee, Barnaby, Roosevelt, Herman, Ricky, Pilgrim, Whitman, Joey, Franky, Moony, Lolo, Margaret, Stevie Ray.

Friends we miss and won't see again: Stacy, Charzan, Orzbit.

Goodbye.

Goodbye, 2006.

Goat of the Year!

I would like to thank everyone who voted for me! Votes came in from everywhere! From Colorado (thank you, Denver!), from Pennsylvania, from California (thank you, Mountain View!), from Canada, from Washington (thank you, Bremerton!), from Virginia, from Georgia, from Texas, from North Carolina, from Connecticut, from New Jersey, from Maryland, from Oregon (thank you, Cave Junction!). And these are just some of the votes.

It appears some voters may have voted more than once, which is very thoughtful. Some may even have voted more than a hundred times. I hope you do not get carpal tunnel, whoever you are!

In the end the totals went like this: Baby "Barack" Belle (me): 1756 votes.

Scouty "Joe Biden" the Nubian, a surprise dark horse candidate who received many votes from the Olympic Peninsula: 756 votes.

Crazy "Hillary the C" April, who neither sought nor accepted the nomination, and who thumbed her nose at voters everywhere: 300 votes.

Betsy, the orphan doeling who did not even know there was an election going on: 271 votes.

Breezy, aka "The Toaster," aka Juniper "don't hate me because I'm beautiful" Breeze, 110 votes.

And finally, in last place, probably because her picture does not do her justice, Herron Hill's Weeping Camel, aka Cammy "what's so funny about peace love and understanding?" the mini-Mancha, with only 64 votes.

Happy Happy New Year, everyone, from your Goat-of-the-Year! Yes, I will be on the cover of the farm calendar, on sale everywhere* starting Monday, New Year's Day!!!




*well, not really everywhere, but somewhere

Last G-O-T-Y Post

Woops, there is a change in the G-O-T-Y voting. Get your goat-of-the-year votes in by tomorrow (Friday) afternoon. That's instead of Saturday night. The deadline for the farm calendar is sooner than we thought. So get your votes in for the goat you love the most. And remember, I am not a clone.

How to Predict the Weather

Well, back in the fall all the weather experts were predicting that we would have an "el nino" winter. The farmer's neighbor from Longbranch came over and explained it. If you don't live around here, you probably never heard of "el nino."

El Nino is a weather pattern in the Pacific Ocean which produces drier and milder winter conditions, due to the warming of ocean currents and something else I don't understand. There are a lot of scientists who know all about it and they explain on tv all the time how it works. I used to watch tv when I was a kid, but I don't any more.

Anyway all the weather people explained to us back in September that it was going to be an El Nino winter. It was extremely scientific. They had a lot of charts, with red and blue arrows, and little swirly things indicating ocean movements.

The farmer said "uh huh," and bought some more insulation for the pipes.

The neighbor from Longbranch explained what she had heard on the radio from the National Weather Service. It was going to be a nice dry mild winter, which would be a refreshing change from last year, when we had a whole month of torrential rain. It was unbelievably soggy.

The farmer said, "uh huh," and asked the hay man if we could get some extra hay.

And then the weather started: horrendous downpours (the rainiest month ever recorded here in one of the rainiest parts of the country), flooding, the worst windstorm ever, two snows before Christmas (we hardly ever get two snows in a year), two bitter cold snaps, one of which froze the pipes, even with their insulation on, and much more.

Now the weather people have new charts showing why what they said was really right even though it was wrong, and how in the future they will always be right again, and even if they are wrong, they still know everything, so it's the same as being right, and it's still scientific and impressive, even though it does not keep the trees from falling down in the wind, or the pipes from freezing.

Well, the neighbor from Longbranch was surprised. But the farmer wasn't.

"I don't go by the newspaper." the farmer explained. "I just go by Baby Belle." And back in September I was growing a woolly woolly coat. A coat to keep the rain and snow and wind out. A parka.

And that is why goats are better than Double Doppler radar.

Goat of the Year Part Three: Hanging Chad?

Well I am not surprised to report that there have been a few complaints that a certain contestant who shall remain nameless (Scouty) is cheating in the Goat-Of-The-Year Poll and should be disqualified for the offense of ballot box stuffing. I personally agree with the anonymous complainant who thinks that a certain goat who shall remain nameless (Scouty) should be disqualified. Unfortunately there are two factors which will prevent this.

1. Scouty is not capable of the premeditation required for willful cheating. It took her two years to realize that a baseball cap is not a living thing sitting on a person's head.

2. There is no cheating in this poll, which is being conducted according to the International "American Idol" electoral college rules. Vote early, vote often, vote in the dark, vote at work, vote at home, vote on vacation, vote in the airport, vote at Starbucks, vote at the mall, vote in the car, vote in the barn, vote in the milk parlor, etc.

Oh well. I'm sure I will win anyway when my law-abiding fans realize that it is okay to VOTE FOR ME AS MANY TIMES AS THEY WANT. Okay.

The G-O-T-Y voting will conclude at midnight PST on December 31. The Goat-of-the-Year will be announced on New Year's Day.

Will Work For Grass

Three large equines available for fence demolishing projects, board or wire fence, makes no difference. Very thorough. Photos of recent work attached. Just call us when your power goes out and we will be right over. Or you can contact our crew chief, Willen.

 

 

Tomorrow!

They say tomorrow never comes, but today it did. No trees down from last night's little storm, power still on, and Scouty is doing much better. The spider bite is drifting apart, like an iceberg breaking up, little purple floes moving further out on her udder, and the rash subsiding as well.

So there is no need to give her any more pity votes.

Some people have asked me why I want to be Goat-of-the-year. What is the big deal?

Goat-0f-the-Year goes on the cover of the farm calendar, which comes out in January!