LaMancha or Bedbug?

This is a picture of Maddy. She looks fairly normal but unfortunately she is crazy.

Hmm

Hello my name is Izzy. Million Belles is my mother. My brother's name is Ringo. I am two months old but hardly any attention has been paid to me since I was born which is odd because I am exceptional.

Anyway it's funny how people look at things and don't really see them because they have a fixed idea in their head and they can't change it just because it doesn't match reality.

The reason I mention it is all summer long people have been coming to look at the baby goats and the farmer always points to Terra, Hannah Belle's daughter, and says, "That's the pretty one." Or sometimes if Terra is having a bad hair day or an ungainly growth spurt the farmer points to Betty's daughter Iota and says, "That's the pretty one."

This went on all summer without fail, and sometimes the farmer wouldn't even remember my name but would say, "oh yes, there is another doe kid, that little black and white one there."

Anyway a couple of weeks ago was the state fair and for the first time in a long time the farmer did not take any goats. But on the day of the Nigerian show the farmer stopped by to watch. There were other farmers there too, and Gracie's and Zinnia's family was there from up the road, and the farmer from Minter Bay where my father the drive-through buck lives. And then there were also various goat big shots, and people who think they are big shots, and a lot of opinions were exchanged on which goats were the best goats.

But when everything was said and done and the Junior Champion was decided it was a goat named Not Quite An Angel. She is my father's full littermate sister.

Then there was a lot more parading and the senior champion was decided and it was a goat named Hardly An Angel. That's my father's mother. Then there was additional four-footed mincing and posing much to the chagrin of all the goats and the Champion Challenge was conducted and my father's mother won that too, beating Jackpot's mother and a goat named Rockette who had caused some of the spectator's eyes to goggle out of their heads. So my father's mother was Grand Champion and Best of Breed and Best Udder which is about all you can win unless you hit the bullseye in the shooting gallery, and then you can also get a life-sized stuffed bear.

Anyway when the farmer came home the farmer had a funny look and came right into the stall where I was jumbled up with a lot of other goats getting out of the rain, which has just started, and picked me up and held me up in the light and examined me closely and then said, "hmm," and put me down.

And every day since then the farmer has been coming back out and picking me up and petting me and saying, "Hmm," in a surprised way.

Anyway the way things were going I thought maybe my name got changed to "Hmm," but then a lady stopped by and asked which one was the pretty one and right away the farmer pointed to me and said, "Isabelle," oddly enough remembering my name right away.

"Oh is she for sale?"

"No," said the farmer. "Not any more."

Part Two

Ok, part two.

The grain hum went through the herd, and Hannah Belle set off up the hill. She took everyone down into the far corner of the front pasture where nobody ever goes, and she showed everyone a hidden hole under the fence next to the driveway.

All the little goats got through, and some of the mediums, and several of the bigs including Tugboat Tangy surprisingly, but Winnie couldn't make it so she stood on the other side bellowing until she reached the end of her attention span.

We hightailed up the driveway lest any helpful passersby see us and report us and pretty soon we were up by the cottage with Tangy breathing through her mouth from the exertion but occasionally still chanting "grain" as we all came up on the shed where the grape leaves grow through the fence.

It didn't take long to make them disappear.


Then Hannah Belle ordered everyone into the barn, where the grain was piled in 50 lb sacks. Everyone stared in amazement.

"Get to work!" yelled Hannah Belle, "We've got free rein!"

We knocked a bag from the top of the stack and then we all started pawing and chewing through the bag. Time is of the essence when you are bag-chewing. Since there wasn't room for everybody to chew the bag, a few of us waiting for the bag to be gnawed open went and knocked over every single thing in the barn that wasn't bolted down.


We made it through. We ate 48 pounds of cob before the neighbor farmer came to milk the milkers and caught us all red-handed.

All except one.

Hannah Belle somehow had managed to get back into the pasture.

She gazed in innocently as we were all stuffed into a holding cell to see when and if we would get sick.

"My goodness, what's going on?" her expression said. "Can I help with anything?"

"I hope you all enjoyed that grain," the farmer said later after hearing the report of what had happened. "because you won't be getting any more for a long time."

Free Rein

Well yesterday was Wednesday here, I don't know what it was where you are.

It was a bit glum and rainy and our farmer has not been paying much attention to us. This gives us free rein.

Some of us need attention because our opinions have not been taken into account lately what with the farmer driving up to the fancy job in Seattle almost every day and not minding the farm properly.

Last weekend there was goat show practice because Moldy and her daughter were supposed to go to the fair and Moldy did reasonably well considering the size of her brain but after the practice it was determined that Moldy really does not have enough milk to show well so all that practice was a waste and the time could have been better spent listening to some of the good ideas I have had lately which are many and numerous.

So anyway there was a rising tide. Of something.

Last weekend when we had free rein Hannah Belle showed us how to knock the plywood out of the gate panel so that we could go wherever we want. We trotted around freely in the horse pasture eating apples. The farmer said a few choice words and looked for the hammer briefly but then got distracted.

"Don't you worry, I am going to find that hammer and put the panel back in," the farmer said darkly. "maybe a little bit later. Or tomorrow."

We knew that wouldn't happen because after finding the hammer the farmer would have to find some nails, and even though lightning often strikes twice around here it's almost always in the spring. So we continued to do as we pleased. And you know how it goes, when you get in the habit of doing as you please, it only leads to more of the same.

Anyway yesterday when the farmer left for work we all poured out through the missing gate panel and helped ourselves to apples but before too long Hannah Belle said, "you know these apples are fine, I used to really like them, but there is grain in the barn."

Pinky Jr, is only able to comprehend a word or two here and there but she repeated: "Grain."

"Grain in the barn," Tangy intoned dully.

A low hum spread the herd: "Grain."

.........to be continued