Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Pebbles. Again.

Well all roads lead to The Bitter Pill, and once again Pebbles has managed to get back in the news. It was decided that Pebbles would not be bred this year because she was a very late kid.

Why should she ever be bred, the world is full of Bitter Pills as it is. Maybe her big little sister Sandy could be bred instead. And what would the Bitter Pill's progeny be named? Shale and Mossyrock? Limestone and Riprap? It seems like a dead end in so many ways.

But Sandy never came into heat or if she did she did it quietly inside the barn while it was raining cats and dogs and nobody noticed or cared.

Then yesterday the BP came into a howling heat, she stood by the upper pasture gate screaming like a banshee. There are no bucks up there which shows you how refined her matrimonial skills are but anyway. Wendell came out and made bug eyes at her and that only encouraged her. It sounded like someone had shut their hoof in a car door.

The rest of us moved discreetly down the hill, pretending not to notice anything, and eventually the farmer came out and said, " you will have to be quiet Pebbles, because you are not going to be bred this year."

But then a little glimmer came into the farmer's eye, not exactly an idea but some little blip on the radar, a sub-idea or possibly a notion.

"Wait a minute," said the farmer, "isn't it next year now?"

.........Stay Tuned

Baa Ram Ewe

If a pig can do it, why not? On the other hand, this would never work with goats, especially not here. Betsy Bigoletto would just pick this guy up by the ears and throw him over the fence. Adios, Champis.

Wednesday, January 25, 2012


What happened was there was a giant snowstorm followed by a mild windstorm followed by a deluge of rain, followed by a large windstorm. Telephone poles and trees came crashing down. The farmer went to California and we had a farmsitter.

Sky Blue got something stuck in her throat and puzzled the farmsitter by hacking and choking to such an alarming degree that the farmsitter called the farmer in California.

"I hate to mention it," the farmsitter said, "but one of the little goats has suddenly gotten very sick and can't stop coughing."

"One of the little goats?" the farmer said suspiciously. "which one? is it Pebbles?"

"I think it is," the farmsitter opined vaguely, because the farmsitter can't really tell Nigerians apart.

"Text me a picture right away," barked the farmer, even though the farmer is a devout Luddite. The farmsitter texted the picture all the way to California and it was a picture of Sky Blue and the farmer responded breezily, "she will be fine," which was in fact exactly what happened within about a half hour since Sky Blue is such a pig that she gobbles everything in sight and after she stopped choking her dry cob she went to sleep just like a cat in a puddle of light on a windowsill.

Then the next day the farmer came home and surveyed the knee-deep mud in the barnyard and the overflowing Lost Beaver Lake and the bedraggled ponies with their belly straps undone for the 80 millionth time and the fir branches blown every which way and the farmer walked back to the house muttering.


Friday, January 20, 2012

Now for Some Rain and Wind

Harrowing day yesterday. Ice storm in the morning, trees snapping all day long. Power went out and we thought it would be out for several days since we are almost always last in line to get the power back on. But the power came back on! Then went out. Then came on! Then went off. Then came on! Etc.

None of us set foot outside the barn.

Today's forecast is for flooding, snow melt and rain then wind. Right now the rain is falling in the form of snow.

But the power is on!

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Pebbles in the Snow

Pebbles spent 42 seconds in the snow before calling her ride to come pick her up. 11 inches.

Update from Inside the Blizzard

I don't know who is running the weather reports. But it must be a Nubian.

They said that it would be Snowmageddon in Seattle with ten inches of snow. It looks like they have about two inches.

They said we would get about five inches of snow. We have eight.

They said that the snow was tapering off.

And yet mysteriously it is still snowing hard.

Pebbles has volunteered to go and have her picture taken in the virgin snow to see if it is up to her hipbones as promised.

Now she will learn what the word "volunteered" means around here.

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Peninsula Snow Diary

The snow has begun again.

There is a blizzard. That sound is the farmer cussing.

The snow has sort of stopped.

Clementine doesn't feel good so she is wearing the velcro sport jacket.

Now it is raining and the snow is getting pocked with raindots. There are also a lot of berries in the snow. It is unsightly. Note to self: don't eat snowberries.

Laddy the Tennessee Walker has undone his belly strap for the 38th time in the last week. That sound is the farmer cussing.

Weather says 10 inches of really wet snow from the South tomorrow. This means someone with two legs will have to go up on the roof of the dairy and brush the snow off because otherwise it is too heavy. That sound is the farmer cussing.

We are deciding which of our Caprifections we will make next spring. Certainly cajeta. But what about goat milk fudge or black bottom goat cheese cupcakes?  Also perhaps some Baby Belle's buttons, this is just a cute little snowball of chevre with goat milk caramel on top. (cajeta.) Oh well, right now we don't have any milk, it's very sad. I did notice that Abby is secretly still hoarding some milk but no one has noticed.

An ugly gray yellow sun ball is trying to peek through the snow clouds.

Pinky is BWAAAing.

It is rai-now-ing now. That is rain and snow at the same time.

More later. Must get under the tree.

Monday, January 16, 2012

Waiting for White

In this film, titled "The Day Before the Snow," everyone prepares ominously for the snow which is forecast to reach to Pebbles' hipbones. It is a Bergmanesque Goat Ballet without any dancing.

Friday, January 13, 2012

Picnic Cancelled

Well it has been no picnic here. If anyone is wondering whether it has been a picnic, no, it has not been a picnic. Betsy Bigoletto had gotten moved out of our pasture which is erroneously known as the fat girl pasture because the fat girls were getting thin because Betsy was eating all the food that we were all supposed to share. It was quite shocking really. 

So anyway Betsy got transferred to the high and mighty pasture where she even cowed Wronny with her sheer bulk. This was fantastic, we could actually grab a smattering of grain here and there. Finally, a few blades of hay. 

Meanwhile Betsy started wearing out her welcome up at the Hilton. She hurt Brandy's feelings. She t-boned Pinky. She tried to pick Clementine up  by her tailfeathers. Nobody seemed to mind any of that.

Then one day in her zeal for calories she bit one of Pebbles' ears. You could have heard a pin drop, because the farmer was standing right there when she did it. Pebbles was rushed immediately to the grain room so that she could stuff herself with grain in an effort to assuage the deep pain of earbiting which only those who have ears can truly appreciate.

So big surprise now we have Betsy back. And on top of that there is a report of impending snow. So there you have it.

Wednesday, January 04, 2012

A Break in the Weather

The New Year is upon us and it is a lot like the old year. Today it rained a monsoon and we were stuck inside. Then the farmer threw us out just as it was getting dark to muck the stalls. 

"Get out," the farmer snapped at everybody. "There is a break in the weather and you can all go and pee outside for a change." 

Not so much as an "if you feel like it." Or "if you wouldn't mind."

Everyone shambled outside except Brandy who didn't feel like it. The farmer was not in a mood.

"Fine," snapped the farmer, and Brandy got booted into the fat girl pasture.

Not so much as a "right this way." Or a "thank you for coming." No, not today.

"What does it mean, 'a break in the weather?' "  asked Pebbles as we stood under a tree observing the downpour burbling in sheets and rivers all around us. The winter ducks quacked distantly from Lost Beaver Lake down the hill.

"It means the weather is broken," explained Abby. "Like the roof on the buck shed."

"Where the rain comes in?" asked Pebbles.

"Exactly," said Abby, pointedly.

Pinky began to bawl bitterly. She was standing directly under the downpour, experiencing the break in the weather up close and personal, and the Nubian part of her brain was filling with sadness, a great lake of sadness that could only be expressed through bitter bawling.

"BWAA!" she called. 

"BWAA!" she responded, in fierce agreement with herself.

That was today.