My daughter Hannah Belle and Breezy's daughter Miss Melly used to go around getting in trouble together when they were kids. They hopped a lot of fences and stole a lot of grain that didn't belong to them. They just laughed when they got lectures from the farmer.
Because of those two, we had to switch all our new fencing to five foot fencing instead of four foot.
Anyway, Hannah Belle learned her lesson one day: she tried to jump a fence and didn't make it over. Her foot caught on the top wire and she was left swinging upside down about a foot off the ground. Well, that day was one of the luckiest days of her life because she did it right in front of the farmer and the farmer freed her within a minute or two and all that happened was she limped around for a day or two.
And after that she learned her lesson. She doesn't jump wire fences any more. She specializes in wood fences and panel gates, and fat as she is she has perfected a limbo-like maneuver that will get her through just about any five panel gate from any farm store in the country. It is something to see.
It saves a lot of jumping, and it makes sense. Why go over the gate when you can go through? That's what they were designed for, after all.
Anyway, Mel had much the same experience when she was a kid, except she broke her leg on her jumping maneuver. It was a clean break and it healed with no problems, and we thought she too had learned her lesson.
No. Yesterday she pulled the same bone-headed ploy and wound up with a leg caught in the fence. No one knows when it happened, but by the time the farmer got home and found her, she had been there so long that she wasn't even crying any more, just shaking, standing on her two front legs. Luckily she got far enough over that she was able to hold most of her weight on her front legs. One of the back legs was caught about four feet off the ground, with a deep cut around the ankle where the wire wrapped tight.
The farmer cut her out and gave her some medicine and now guess who I have for a roommate in my supposed-to-be-private stall?
A three-legged nitwit. Somebody tell me why this goat is getting fig newtons and room service instead of a lecture? Hello? The Nubians have more sense than this, for pity's sake.
Diary of a Dairy Goat. This blog is the diary of one goat, Baby Belle, a Nigerian Dwarf who lives on a small dairy farm in Western Washington.