Welcome to Phoenix

Well they said it is going to be 103 degrees today which will smash all previous records for the highest temperature. Not only that but it is going to stay hot all through the weekend after they had promised that the temperature would go back down on Saturday and Sunday. This causes the farmer to milk the milkers at 10 p.m. which previously was an hour past the farmer's bedtime. And this also causes a great of anguished screaming in the morning because previously the breakfast time was 6 or 7 and now the breakfast cart does not come around until 9 or 10. Which frees up two or three hours for complaints and whining.

Some aren't that noisy about it but some must always bellow their outrage to the bleachers. Aggie the plus-sized miniature Nubian who looks like a tiny beached whale is one of the loudest complainers. She gets into a panicky state whenever her blood sugar drops below 100,000.

She is down there right now hollering "I FEEL FAINT! I FEEL FAINT!"

"Well," said the farmer this morning, "we have the cheese, so I guess we could also open a whinery."

Cooling Center

Zane Gray and me forgot to act sensible yesterday when we went out, so we haven't learned our lesson. We are going to be confined to the barn. This is our cooling center. Jimmy and Frank are also confined. I don't understand it because Bubbles and Pinky are running free and they haven't got a lick of sense. Yesterday Bubbles ran headfirst into the feeder. And Pinky is a well-known special needs goat, no offense to her because she is part Nubian, but Ziggy has to head-butt her inside when it starts raining. If this is called sensible then what can you do. Anyway tomorrow they say the heat could be triple digits, unlike Pinky's IQ, so we won't be allowed out then either.

Also P.S. Zinnia is allowed out and she tried to eat a ball of baling twine.

Interesting Times

It is interesting when you find out things. I just found out my brother zanegray's name is really Zane Gray. Interesting.

Also, I thought we lived on a nice cool farm where the main kind of weather would be patchy morning fog. It turns out where we live is actually stifling hot and no one can stop talking about it. Interesting.

People came over and they were saying things like. "Goodness it's hot," or "is it hot enough for you?"

One lady came over and she said, "is it hot enough for you?" and then she laughed and laughed. I guess this is some kind of joke, although I noticed the farmer did not laugh. I think it must be hot enough for anyone, certainly for the farmer.

I have not seen a lot of farmers, really only one, our one that lives here. But I noticed our farmer is somewhat on the round side, and does not seem to like the exceeding hotness we are having, which is predicted to last all week. They are saying that it is going to be 100 degrees in Seattle in the middle of the week.

The farmer's friend came over and told the farmer that even though it was 92 today it was going to be much hotter in the middle of the week. I wondered what the farmer would say and sure enough, just as I would have guessed, the farmer said, "that's interesting."

But with a stony stony stony face.

Hmm, I thought. Interesting.

Atticus Pupicus

Atticus Pupicus is our guardian dog. He used to let all the babies jump on him like a trampoline. But now he doesn't like it any more, those sharp little hooves in the ribs. He has aches and pains now and jumping makes him grumpy. He woofs anybody who jumps on him. Zanegray jumped on him and got woofed.

When he woofs you it really gets your attention.

Oh ok, you say to yourself, maybe I will not jump on you any more. Note to self.

Anyway Atticus Pupicus has been very hot and short-tempered lately because he didn't have his summer haircut. It was blazing hot several days in a row, and Atty lay around panting and gulping water and digging a hole under the porch to try to find more shade.

The farmer had tried to give Atty a haircut, but the clippers died going into the first turn. They were no match for Atty's magnificent dingleberries and his woolly ruff.

Really there was only one person who could help Atty, and that was the kindly neighbor who really knows how to clip and has super industrial sheep shears.

She came over and fixed Atty up. It was not an easy job. And when she was done, they had to get the tractor to take away all the hair.

Atty is in heaven.

His hair is in the tractor bucket.

All The Way or So

There was a ruckus the other day.

My Aunt Hannah Belle had two sons this year and the other day they went to their new home. This left Aunt Hannah Belle with a lot of milk and no one to drink it.

"Come on Hannah Belle," said the farmer meaningfully. "You have been on the dole long enough. It is time for you to go to work."

Hannah Belle kept mum and did not betray anything by her expression. Instead she watched the fat milkers trundling over toward the milk parlor. She could tell by the way Jammies was bobbing and weaving toward the head of the line that there was sure to be food inside.

All right then, Hannah Belle agreed, and when the farmer took her by the collar she marched along docilely. She didn't have any gum so she just chewed her cud, eyeballing the whole operation like she was the regional manager.

"Here is the ramp," the farmer explained. "Go up it when it is your turn, and on the other side you will find a nice buffet of free grain."

All right then, thought Hannah Belle, shrewdly staying out of striking distance of Winnie who likes to t-bone everyone in the waiting room who dares to look her in the eye. As long as they are a lot smaller than she is.

Hannah Belle got in line, choosing a sensible spot near the end. When it came her turn, she went right up the ramp, through the sliding door, and into the milk parlor.

I never saw any of the rest because they closed the door, but I heard it, and so did everybody in the next few counties.

Some of it went like this: "PUT YOUR FOOT DOWN! I MEAN RIGHT NOW! DO NOT DO THAT AGAIN!"

Meanwhile this whole time was a festive sound of hopping, like maybe some leprechauns doing a riverdance in the milk parlor, and in the foreground the loud sucking noise the milk machine makes. Then was followed a series of questions.

"CAN YOU HEAR ME? DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THAT MACHINE COST? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

Sadly the only answer was more hopping.

Then came a pronouncement: "YOU ARE GOING TO BE MILKED OUT TODAY YOUNG LADY! I MEAN ALL THE WAY!"

Followed by more jolly hopping and then the sound of the exit door sliding open, and then Hannah Belle appeared in view on the down ramp, hair slightly awry but overall I would have to say in an unfazed condition. She proceeded into the barnyard chewing her cud with an air of satisfaction.

I am something of an expert on milk and I did notice that while she had been milked, I would not say that she had been milked out ALL THE WAY.

No one mentioned anything about it and everyone pretended not to notice.

Hello Again.

Hello. It's me again.

This is me with my mother, Belle Pepper. She is growing a snowy beard as you can see. Also she has the Baby Belle topknot, which is the hallmark of our family. I do not have the topknot yet or the beard.

We have to stay inside today because it is too hot and we aren't sensible. If we go out we lay in the hot sun panting and the farmer says, "be more sensible," and picks us up and carries us into the shade.

My brother Zanegray is with me. And my mother Belle Pepper. And my Aunt Blue. And also my two cousin-brothers, Frank and Jimmy.

And me.

We are all here. We are carrying on.

Hello.

Hello. I just got here yesterday. There was no Nigerian doelings born this year which never happened before. That was before I came. I am the last baby of the season.

My mother’s name is Belle Pepper. Her mother’s name was Baby Belle. Her mother’s name was Domingo Millie.

My name is going to be Million Belles, like the flower except with an e.

So I thought they might call me Millie like my great-grandmother.

But right now they are all calling me Baby Belle.

A Note From the Farmer

Baby Belle died this afternoon.

Thanks to everyone who read her blog and to everyone who wrote publicly and privately sending her good wishes and good thoughts.

I knew we would miss her right away. I did not know how much.

Oh, Baby Belle.



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Betsy

Betsy is still Betsy.

Some goats grow up and when they get big they get a new personality. Lucy for example was a fun-loving tot in her youth, but now she is a milker she has turned ruthless and scheming. She wants to move up the milker ladder and become top milker someday. This is a lost cause, because no one will ever unseat the Brandy family here. There is a reason we call them The Sopranos.

Lucy, if you are reading this, remember: Never go against The Family.

But Betsy is still Betsy. She doesn't care about being top milker. She just wants more food.

That would be her platform if she were running for governor. MORE FOOD NOW.

This has always been her policy, since she was a tiny bottle baby. And that is why she comes running at a hard canter every time the farmer calls out "Betsy!"

It might mean food, if she gets there first. It might mean MORE FOOD NOW.

When we see the herd coming around the greenhouse turn into the barnyard, Betsy is always in front or closing fast (if she got a bad start), running with her head up and a far-off Nubian gleam in her eye.

If the farmer wants Winnie, the farmer calls Winnie. If the farmer wants Tangy, the farmer calls Tangy. But if the farmer wants everybody, the farmer just calls Betsy.

Because when the rest of the herd sees Betsy running, they don't ask any questions. They just turn and run.

It might mean MORE FOOD NOW.

The Pasteurizer

IS HERE!

The Newsletter

Well, the farm newsletter has been done for a while but we are having some problems getting the mailing list to send out properly. So anyway for now you can just read it here and we will try to get the list fixed for next time.

Oy. It's always something. It's never nothing.

Fool Me Twice

Well, the farmer had to go and pick up hay in the field, and Betsy used the opportunity to kid. She had a gigantic single buck kid (again) in the peace and quiet of a private kidding stall.

His name is Bubbles, but he acts like he doesn't know who you are talking to when you say, "hello, Bubbles." That's a bit odd.

Anyway, this year the score in the Stealth Kidding Campaign is Betsy family 2, Farmer 1.

Speaking of hay it is almost time to bring the hay in, probably in a week or so. Because of the freakishly hot weather and the ample spring rain, the hay is weeks ahead of schedule, and it is looking very beautiful.

Many people probably would love a chance to swelter in the hot sun bucking hay. My goodness it is a fantastic workout, I love to watch them doing it from under a nice shady tree. If you are ambulatory or even reasonably ambulatory you are welcome to help The Farmer bring in hundreds of bales from the field when the time comes.

No, seriously, don't be shy. Just send us your email and we will let you know when and where to come.

Fool Me Once

Xie Xie was not able to fool the farmer. She delivered a set of twins in plain sight. They are both mini-Manchas, and both blue-eyed. As far as the "mini" part goes, we are not so sure they got that memo.

Both of them are butterballs and if anything they weigh more than Big Orange's Lamancha kids. One of them, the boy, is a terrible whiner. He cries just like a little baby. All day long.

Where is the milk? Waa waa waa. Why is it in a bottle? Waa waa waa. Shouldn't it be on tap? Waa waa waa. Is someone stepping on me? Waa waa waa.

He has already cried more in one day than I ever cried in my whole life.

So the trifecta is out, but Betsy still has a chance at a stealth kidding.

You're Getting Verrrry Sleepy...

The Betsy family excels in stealth kidding, as you know. Apparently this is done partly by ESP. Betsy and her daughter Big Orange were in the pre-kidding stall for several days doing nothing. Then Monday morning as the farmer was getting ready to feed the fat girls down below, a series of telepathic messages arrived in the farmer's head.

"They are so fat," the first message said. "Why don't you feed them later."

But the farmer already had the buckets out and proceeded to ignore this suggestion. A second message arrived, this one in all caps: "WOULDN'T IT BE NICE TO HAVE A BREAKFAST OMELET WITH THOSE FRESH EGGS YOU GOT YESTERDAY."

How odd, the farmer thought. I really do not usually eat breakfast. But by this time the farmer was under Betsy Family mind control, and went inside to make an omelet, leaving the feed buckets in the barn, and forgetting to check on the pregnant ladies, who were quiet as two mice in their stall. That should have been a tipoff right there.

Twenty minutes later the farmer came out and instead of two girls in the Betsy/Orange pre-kidding stall, there were three, one of them pale orange and quite small but very angry. Shortly, a large dark sidekick arrived to go with the tiny, furious little bumblebee.

This marks the third year in a row that the Betsy family has snuck in at least one unattended kidding. Last year they had two. And since Betsy and Xie Xie are still pregnant, this year they have a chance to go for the trifecta.

Anyway, Big Orange had twin does. One is very pretty. The other is very very pretty. Don't worry, you don't have to do anything. We will use up any leftover Z names on them.

The Science Fair

Well the Farmer went around and around and around and the final two name contenders for Pinky are Zedoary - which is a kind of ginger - and the late inning surprise name Zapricot - which is Apricot, with a Z in front of it. So those are the final two choices left from all the many name suggestions.

And if it can't be decided by next Monday we are going to flip a coin. Who cares anyway we are just going to call her Pinky.

Little Pinky is not getting any smarter, either. Even after the head-bashing episode she still runs into things for no apparent reason. Or as the farmer used to say when trying for the umpteenth time to teach Pinky's great-grandmother Stacy to jump on the milkstand, "she is not going to win the Science Fair."

On the other hand my daughter Hannah Belle has finally been able to teach the farmer that she doesn't want her kids in the barn. She was coming up three times a day to feed them but when the farmer had the stall door open for cleaning the other day, Hannah Belle swooped in out of the blue and gave Inky and Shaq the high sign and the whole family skedaddled.

Now everyone is happy and Hannah Belle doesn't have to trudge up to the barn all day long, which was very tiresome for her.

In other news it can now be announced with certainty that both of my other daughters - Belle Pepper and Blue Umbrella - are going to kid in July. These will be the first kids from our new buck, the debonair and handsome but not particularly manly Cowboy.

There was some doubt about whether Cowboy, being just a wide-eyed teenager at the time, had been able to perform his buckly duties last winter. But it appears that the girls were able to educate him. Blue Umbrella in particular is an excellent teacher, like Hannah Belle, even though some of her pupils, as mentioned previously, are not going to win the Science Fair.

Summer Days

It isn't summer but it feels like summer. One crazy guy down the road is already cutting hay.

We are counting the days waiting for the pasteurizer to arrive. Only we don't know how many days it's going to be, so why are we counting the days? We think it will be here in about two weeks.

Hannah Belle is very fond of her two sons Inky and Shaq, but she finds it quite boring hanging around the barn with them all day. They don't really do anything besides twitter and hop around like little birds, and Hannah Belle prefers directed activities, ideally of the sort that culminate in the acquisition of tasty food products - grain, peanuts, sweet canary grass in the meadow, red licorice, et cetera.

So she goes up to the barn three times a day, lets Inky and Shaq drink all the milk they want for about three minutes, then returns to her monomaniacal foraging, sunbathing, and intellectually superior ruminating.

The Betsy Family is almost ready to kid, all three of them. Betsy herself is quite huge, but so is Big orange, and so is Xie Xie, who is even prettier than she was last year. Betsy went on the milk bench for the first time today, and then she got trapped in the exit area because she couldn't figure out how to push open the gate.

Just PUSH IT, BETSY! LIKE THE TEN OTHER GOATS THAT WENT BEFORE YOU!

Dios Mio.

Inky and Shaq

Here they are.

They're Here

Well Hannah Belle underdid herself this time, producing only two kids, both of whom are luckily extremely gorgeous. Since they are fine flashy strapping boys with no apparent physical defects, she already ditched them to go free-ranging in the garden.

When that didn't sit too well with the farmer she went back in with them for a few minutes, looking pious and motherly while the cameras were filming, then re-ditched them to go sit on the cable spools in the horse pasture.

In regards to her previously quadrupletesque figure, she still looks like she could have twins at a moment's notice.

Zero Hour

The farmer has finally had it with Hannah Belle. Hannah Belle is being moved to the kidding stall, like it or not.

And she better like it.

This means the LaMancha weaners, all of whom have been crying hysterically for four days as they adjust to a world without milk, will be plunged into a new reality show called "Outdoor Living."

Or, as I like to think of it, "I'm a LaMancha Baby, Get Me Out of Here!"