Tuesday, May 01, 2012

Wronny's Kids....

....Still did not get born.

"This is a little ridiculous, Wronny," said the farmer, showing Wronny the calendar where it was marked in ink that she was going to kid in March.

"It is MAY now."

Wronny chewed her cud impassively.

The farmer showed a list of names of people waiting to take cheesemaking classes where they milk the professional goats and then make cheese.

"Do you want these people to have to milk Cherry?"

Wronny chewed her cud impassively.

"Or perhaps you think they would like to milk Iota?"

Iota's style of milking is that she gobbles the food as fast as she can with one half of her mouth while at the same time emitting a constant only slightly muffled high-pitched scream with the other half. This is really an astonishing trick, it is like something you would see in Las Vegas. Not on the Strip but maybe out on one of the side streets. Pretty far out, actually. In the desert, maybe.

Also while screaming she kicks one of her back legs in a sort of sidestroke motion so that she looks like a little white frog.

The funny part is that she has improved almost 51% since she started: in the beginning she wouldn't eat at all and just devoted herself to kicking both legs and splitting everyone's eardrums with a completely unmuffled banshee howl.

"This is why Nigerians get a bad reputation," the farmer said darkly to Betty, like it is Betty's fault because Iota is her daughter. Betty chewed her cud impassively. "She gets that from her father," she told us when the farmer went away.

"I want those kids on the ground, Wronny," the farmer blathered on. "And no more false alarms. Stop pretending to wax over and loosen your ligaments. Do you hear me?"

Wronny chewed her cud impassively.

Meanwhile while all the charts were being reviewed Poppy popped out a set of triplet doelings without any sermon from the farmer and after a short stay in the delivery room they were ushered out to mix with the other  mothers and babies and this was an occasion for another lecture.

"I do not want anyone bothering Poppy," the farmer harangued the other mothers. " She is very shy and sweet and I do not want any of you monsters bothering her or her triplets. Does everyone understand me?"

Betty, Iota, and Cherry chewed their cuds impassively.

An hour or so later the farmer came out to check the baby stall and Poppy had pinned the other mothers to the far wall with a series of masterful head flips, backed up by skillful earbiting and Sugar Ray Leonard style body blows. Poppy and her triplets lived inside an imaginary line that cut the stall in half. The other mothers and kids lived in the other half.

The hay feeder and the water bucket - you guessed it - were on Poppy's side.

You never know what motherhood will do for someone.

"Hmm," mused the farmer. "Maybe Poppy could train Iota how to milk properly."