The Dean's List

Pinky got her milk test back and she got an A+. The farmer let her out to knock some more things over if she likes. "It is very boring in the barn since it is raining day and night," the farmer explained to Hannah Belle, who always gets immediate detention for knocking things over. "So it will be nice for Pinky to knock things over."

The reason why Pinky doesn't get punished is because she is incapable of forming intentions, so she can't be held accountable for her actions. Whereas Hannah Belle is incapable of not forming intentions. Also Tangy is Pinky's mother, so everything that happens to Pinky happens with nobody in loco parentis. So there you have it.

Pinky and the Brain

Pinky went walkabout.

It was a little bit sunny and she had a little bit of an upset stomach so the farmer let her out of her maternity stall to eat brush and grass to settle her stomach.

Silver went with her since he is her son and doesn't know any better.

Before going outside Pinky stopped at the little folding table by the milkstand and methodically knocked three pairs of hoof trimmers off onto the floor for no reason at all. One two three, like that.

Then she pulled 63 folded grain sacks out of the bookcase and onto the floor to cover the hoof trimmers. Then as a sort of Brechtian denouement she knocked the folding table over so that it looked very artistic lying on top of the empty grain sacks which unbeknownst to anybody were covering the three hoof trimmers which cost $15.95 each when they are on sale.

She seemed satisfied then and she went outside and knocked all the cedar boards off the porch of the cottage. They were all stacked up for a future flooring project. Then she knocked over a garbage can full of kindling. Silver scampered freely over the new woodpile in a sort of pointed commentary on the wages of photosynthesis. Then she drank all the dog water out of the dog bowl, affronting Wendell. He didn't want it, but it was DOG WATER not GOAT WATER. Then she had gotten somewhere strange that she didn't recognize - the front lawn - and she gave up on living and pitched in bawling so that the farmer came running.

All of this only took about three minutes. The farmer walked her back to the barn, gasping at the wreckage. "Just look at this," marveled the farmer. "And you are only one sixteenth Nubian."

Inside the barn the farmer started picking up grain sacks, but not before stepping onto one of the invisible pairs of hoof trimmers and bending them completely out of shape. Another $15.95 down the drain.

After all this who did the farmer blame? Not Pinky.

"Silver!" yelled the farmer. "You are half Nigerian! You are supposed to be watching her!"

Chillin' With Silver

Ever since she was a young kid, Pinky has been very good at relaxing. You might think you are relaxed and then you look over at Pinky and she is twice as relaxed as you are. Pinky's son Silver has inherited the relaxation gene, which should make him very competitive if anyone ever invents a Grand Prix of Chillin' or a Relaxathon or a World Series of Napping. Or anything along those lines.

Goats of All Nations

There is no dam way I would do this. I have my minerals delivered.

The Pointer Sisters

Betsy and Xie Xie and Binky and Pinky are known as the Pointer Sisters, even though they aren't sisters. This is because if something untoward is happening in the near distance, they assume a frozen statue position and stare at it in unison. This gradually encourages other bears of little brain to assume the staring position.

Not me, I don't point. When I see pointing, I head to the barn. When I get there, Hannah Belle is already there, checking for feed and picking out the safest position.

If a coyote for example were out in the meadow, the Pointer Sisters would be staring at it.

Yesterday, which was one of the ten most beautiful days of the year, the Pointer Sisters lined up together and stared across into the neighbor pasture. I headed for the barn but before I left I peeked in that direction.

There was a weasel!

A weasel! Scampering freely in broad daylight! That's how beautiful it was yesterday!

THE WINTER IS OVER!!!!!

Silver's Day Out

Silver went on a trip today. He got carried around. There was no milk. He didn't like it.

This is What it Sounds Like When Goats Fly

A somber reminder to those with airplane ears.

Blast from the Past: Baby Belle and Friend

This is a picture of Baby Belle when she was a baby, being admired by Caitie, the farmer's niece.

Out of the Gray

Our farmer has been getting grumpier and grumpier to the point where you think there is no room for further grumpification. And then the farmer gets even grumpier.

It happens every year but this is the worst with the longest muddiest winter of all time, and the farm getting more and more downtrodden-looking and the mud getting deeper, the paint peeling and the fences sagging and the blown-off-and-reattached roofs flapping like beach towels even if there is only a gentle breeze.

But that isn't the whole problem. Also by this time of year the farmer has run out of candy milk, and then out of mini milk, and then even Nubian-cross milk, and then even LaMancha milk. So the farmer has to go to the store and buy a quart of cow milk. Well I have had cow milk and it isn't that great but I think it must be getting worse because this year the farmer bought cow milk and couldn't drink it and gave it to Wendell.

He took a few polite laps of it and walked away with a pained expression, and this is an animal that eats goatberries and horse hooves with relish. So that is saying something. The farmer went to another store and came back with soy milk. That was not too horrible but when it was gone the farmer got almond milk instead. That was ok but when it was gone the farmer said, "I will just drink black coffee, and eat dry cereal."

Well then out of the blue - or out of the gray, I should say - we somehow got two days in a row without any rain to speak of, which caused all the horses to go into a coma, laying flat out like they only do on sunny days, looking dead as doornails out in the pasture.

And by this time of course Pinky had had her kids and bounced back to her usual self, and even though she is a first freshener she comes from a lot of milk, and she has way more milk than one little kid can drink, as dedicated as he is to his full-time job of round-the-clock milk disposal. So the farmer took some, saying, "don't mind if I do."

And this morning there was a funny sound when the farmer came out to the barn, and it scared Binky half to death since she is part Nubian. Luckily I was there to explain it.

"That is ok, Binkster," I said in a calming tone. "it is just the farmer, whistling."

Hi Ho

This is Silver. I have to say, I was surprised by how presentable he looked considering everything but then I realized he is my half-brother from the unBelle side of the tree. So that explains it. He's turning into a bit of a crybaby, which I guess is good, because it keeps Pinky alert.*

Anyway, this is Silver.

(Pinky alert, not normal alert, obviously)*

The Silver Lining

It isn't just the rain getting us down. We have had a couple of bad days.

It seems kind of babyish to complain about our little troubles with the world in the state it's in. Really it is just a hill of beans.

But it is our hill. And our beans.

Pinky got very sick. It seemed she might die. But she pulled through. So that was good.

But then she went into labor early, and had two kids, a beautiful little pink girl and a chubby little tri-color boy with silver roaning around his ears.

The little girl died without ever opening her eyes. She couldn't breathe properly.

Pinky turned weak and vacant again, and she wouldn't eat or drink anything. The farmer gave her electrolytes and calcium every hour until she finally started nibbling some fir leaves.

The farmer took Pinky's son and was going to make him a bottle baby. He had been as quiet as a mouse. But when the farmer picked him up he started bawling like a fire engine and Pinky jolted wide awake for the first time since she got sick.

She got up and ran over to the farmer and started licking the baby.

"All right you can keep him," said the farmer. "If you eat your alfalfa."

Pinky ate her alfalfa.

Pinky's son is called Silver.

Silver Lining.

Raina palooza

There is no use mincing words, I will just come out and say it. Damn this rain. Curse and damn it. Damn it all to heck.

Big Orange

Something has happened to Big Orange. She used to be the Mayor of Crazy Town. Well, she still is. But she has turned super super super sweet, it's very baffling, I wonder if there is some kind of secret contest going on where the sweetest goat wins a truckload of licorice or something. If there is, please email me, I definitely could take my sweetness up several notches if there is a good reason. I don't want to waste a bunch of sweetness though.

Also my daughter Izzy moved out on her own. She is nice when she sees me in the pasture but she has decided she prefers living in the unbelievably dilapidated cabana. The cabana, if they showed it on tv to represent a hillbilly goat shack, would probably be vetoed as being too overdone. It has been 'slated for demolition' for years. The roof has been blown off several times and replaced with decreasing enthusiasm and skill each time. Supposedly it is going to be replaced this summer if it ever stops raining. Which it hasn't.

Top of the Pops

No offense to Darren, but if this is all it takes to get on Britain's Got Talent, then we are going to open a goat talent agency. I mean, come on, even Marty the Nubian knew how to open the door and go in the kitchen and look through the cabinets for fig newtons. And my grandmother Baby Belle invented a time machine. (We can't show it to you right now because she is using it.) On the other hand I guess waving is pretty good for a Nubian.

Breaking News

The sun went in. 34 degrees. For tonight it will either snow or pour down rain. Can't decide which I want. Maybe some of both. Heads they win, tails we lose.

Breaking News

The sun is out. The sun has been outed by the clouds.

Springless in Seattle

The farmer came out yesterday and announced that the winter is over because Jammies the little Buddha has starting shedding her undercoat out in long woolly strings.

"Good News," said the farmer. "The winter is over and we have Jammies to thank. Thank you, Jammies."

It continued raining and half-snowing stubbornly and when the farmer left Maddy the Sheriff of Crazy Town suggested we all t-bone Jammies.

Brandy said that wouldn't be fair, she is all for t-boning but only when deserved, and she gave Maddy a thrashing.

Outside it continued raining and showering with fierce winds and trees blowing over. Etc Etc Ibid Ad Nauseum. No news from the frogs.

I am starting to think if the spring won't come, maybe we should go to it, wherever it is. It is probably just up the road somewhere, maybe in Purdy. I wouldn't mind walking to stretch my legs. Except for the mud.

Maybe someone would drive us. If someone is going that way anyway and has a little extra room for me and Izzy and Belle Pepper and maybe Blue and Rainy and Betty and Iota and Terra and Hannah Belle let me know. Or even if you just have room for me and Izzy. Don't worry, we're not bringing Moldy.

Death March

You know what they say, in like a hatter, out like a hare. March is here and it's just as miserable as February. Mud up to your pasterns, stale hay from last summer, halfway snowing all the time, berries in the water buckets, everybody in a bad mood.

I feel like I am getting older every day, that's how bad it is here.

Send us some sunshine if you have extra. We'll send it back in October.