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.

The Coldness Continues

The Coldness has not abated. It continues. We have returned to our pile-sleeping method, laying aside our differences, and softly crooning 'Kumbaya' each night when we hear the water in our buckets freezing. Someone's cudding, Lord, Kumbaya. I send my condolences to the prematurely musical frog families who may have perished in this time of frigidity. Also to the little daffodil under the fir tree which turned to glass and shattered when Wendell peed on it. RIP, fragile flower.

ps someone chewed the straps off Peaches' coat and now she can't wear it. Please, you kids out there, please do not chew the straps off coats. Thank you. And don't text while you are head-butting either. Thank you.

I Was Right

Frogs stopped singing. 6 inches of snow on the way.

I Do Not Think That They Will Sing to Me

A couple of days ago it was a partly beautiful day. Then yesterday was a snow day then a slush day then a rain day. Then today was rainy followed by showers followed by sunbreaks followed by rain followed by clearing, from the north, which means it will get cold again. We are tired of the winter, just dead tired of it, even when it is partly beautiful. They say the winter will go on, and everyone still has a woolly undercoat, Elbie looks like the world's tiniest bighorn sheep (without the horns), and the crazy unbred does are still coming in heat.

All those things mean more winter.

But yesterday, against all odds, the frogs started singing. Each to each.

Speaking of bighorn sheep, here's one, who explains politely to the people in this video that it is time to leave, even giving several courtesy bumps, before he is forced to put his foot down.

Like Dam, Like Kid

Sometimes, anyway. Boxcar Betty is not a troublemaker. Butter would not melt in Peanut's mouth. (Right?) And Cora Belle is a kind and gracious lady. (Maybe?)

But pictured below is Terra Belle, HB's youngest daughter, who has started young on a life of larceny, doing the family proud.

Don't Mind If I Do

Take a look at this video, and see if you can guess whose daughter it is.

Uninvited Guest

BD is back.

This afternoon in the broad daylight the farmer came outside and all of us were crammed into a corner of the upper pasture, all faced in the same direction with our backs against the barn, all staring at the same thing.

BD.

BD was all the way up at the down-below feeder. The farmer went in the tack room and came out in a hurry, meaning business, with the rifle.

The farmer got three shots off, none of them coming anywhere near BD, who took off like a blue dart, knowing the difference right away between a pellet gun and a real rifle. The farmer sat outside with the rifle for twenty minutes, peering out at the tall grass, but BD knew better than to show his whiskers.

"All right," said the farmer, and unloaded the rifle, and started walking up to the barn.

Halfway up there came a not quite distant enough sound from two farms over. A big ruckus of squawking chickens.

"Uh oh." said the farmer.

Then we all had to stand still for a head count, as if even BD would tangle with a tanker truck like Betsy. The numbers didn't come out right and the farmer hollered for Izzy.

"Where is Izzy?" yelled the farmer. Nobody answered, we were all still rattled, but I looked around because after all it was a very good question.

The farmer could see I didn't have Izzy and started looking around at all the milkers, but then Penrose took a little step to one side, showing Izzy huddled in a tiny seam between her and the wall of the barn.

Good old Saint Penrose.

Great Expectations. Or Maybe Not.

Well the farmer did not get around to taking a picture of Jammies I'm sure that comes as a terrible shock. Anyway Jammies is past her expiration date and now won't kid until May unless she kids before then which could happen. She is very rotund but that is no surprise the way she butterballs around the feeder. I personally doubt she is even bred at all.

But maybe she is who knows, Pinky was marked on the chart as a Grade A virgin and it looks to me like she is growing her udder out. Of course there is no way of verifying that since the chart disappeared when the computer crashed. So now there is only uncharted waters all around us up to our neck.

Crumpet Countdown

Jammies, the most cosseted goat of all time, is going to have her babies soon. Or maybe not.

She will either be having her little crumpets some time in the next week, or not until May. She looks quite tubby.

But is she tubby ENOUGH?

We will take a picture tomorrow and put it to a vote.

Pillar of Fear

The farmer put a hand on Brandy and Brandy came right up to the barn. Too skinny. And too old. Bad combination. She is eleven or twelve or something like that, a very old bag. Poor Brandy, you might think.

Wrong again. Poor barn dwellers. Brandy went in a stall with Winnie and Joy. Winnie is her daughter but you wouldn't know it since Winnie is about twice her size. Joy is a mild-mannered crybaby who always fakes something or other so she can go to the barn. She was already recoiling in horror since she was in the stall with Winnie and Winnie was telling her a thing or two and what a surprise she burst out crybabying and then Brandy arrived.

Pretty soon Winnie was recoiling in horror and Joy was relaxing at the hay feeder cheerfully. Brandy doesn't bother Joy since Joy always kowtows but Winnie is kowtow-impaired so Brandy always sprays the fear on her. That's what it's called, spraying the fear.

Brandy could spray the fear across a high school auditorium, she is that good at it, but she can also pinpoint the fear like a laser beam and that's what she was doing, lasering the fear right into Winnie's eyeballs so that Winnie was frozen in the shape of a goat statue and didn't know which way to turn while Brandy ate all the grain in a leisurely fashion and nodded cordially at Joy, who curtseyed politely from across the stall.

If you saw it and you didn't know any better you would say what a pretty tableau. A kind old goat eating grain and a nice young doe munching hay and look in the middle, a statue of a wide-eyed goat frozen with one hoof in mid-air. How whimsical, just like a scene from Heidi.

Friendly Fire Continues

Some nimble farm boys came over and this is always dangerous. Within a very short time Izzy was apprehended and carried to the barn screaming "I hate you! I hate you!"

The farmer sat with her in a stall and since she was already apprehended Izzy did not see any point in refusing treats. So she ate some grain from the farmer's hand.

"I hate you I hate you," she muttered as she chewed.

The farmer came back later with part of an apple.

"I hate you I hate you," Izzy sputtered with her mouth full.

The farmer got an actual brush and brushed Izzy. "This is a horse brush!" Izzy screamed. "I hate you!"

A bunch of bottle babies crammed into the stall with Izzy and began t-boning her because she was a new girl to them. They aren't very smart so they thought Izzy had disappeared when she went under the hay feeder. She stayed under there, looking out murderously in a very Eo-like fashion.

The farmer came back with some fir branches and the bottle babies swarmed like locusts, picking the branches clean. The farmer secretly gave Izzy some alfalfa pellets while the bottle babies were distracted.

"I hate you," Izzy murmured politely, allowing the farmer to pet her for a moment.

Out of the Mouths of Nubians

No one is keeping score any more because it is so tiresome but if they were the score would be: Izzy 12, Farmer 0.

Izzy has not been recaptured for Friendlies and she is getting prideful.

"That farmer will never catch me," she told Acorn, the part-Nubian bottle baby who accidentally got on the wrong side of the fence somehow she didn't know how and neither did anyone else.

"What farmer?" Acorn wanted to know. Acorn forgets that there is a whole world behind her that she can't see unless she turns around. Then when she turns around she forgets the world that used to be in front of her. Sad.

But not unexpected.

Izzy has decided she wants to be like Hannah Belle, a gum-chewing safecracker.

Except Hannah Belle is VERY friendly.

Izzy doesn't care. "That farmer will never catch me."

She was sizing Acorn up as a possible underling, I could tell. Since she is the smallest goat here, Izzy has no underlings, which can be stressful.

"I won," Izzy told Acorn.

"What did you win?" Acorn wanted to know.

Then Acorn suddenly turned around and caught a glimpse of the farmer and her memory came rushing back and she ran bawling like all the bottle babies do to be coddled by the farmer.

The farmer put Acorn back on the right side of the fence and gave her a banana peel and then Acorn went skipping off behind the farmer with a whole new world in front of her.

"What did you win, Izzy?" Moldy asked, horning in on a private conversation as usual.

Izzy gave Moldy a black look and then watched her ex-underling dancing along eating treats from the farmer's pocket.

"Mind your own beeswax, Moldy," I explained.

Glub

Nine inches or so of rain coming over the next few days. What else can I say.

The Welcome Wagon

Not much exciting happens here in the winter. Unless a tree blows down or a roof flies off or a coyote turns up in our pasture.

The winter is quite dull. Unless we get a new girl.

Last year we got Moldy the simperer.

This year Gracie is here. Gracie is not really a new girl. She was born here. She is a great-granddaughter of Marty our favorite Nubian but she is mostly LaMancha so she has improved intelligence, which is nice for her because she can find the barn by herself.

She went to live with a new family and only comes back to visit the buck during breeding season. That only happens once a year so almost everyone has forgotten her by the time she comes back. She should wear a red suit like Santa maybe that would help.

In this video she is only wearing a purple collar while everyone extends a friendly New Girl welcome to her.

Snow Day

They said it would be nice and sunny today and don't worry about snow, go about your business, go out and eat some brambles if you feel like it, but send your farmer to get extra peanuts because maybe it would snow tomorrow. So I won't even bother to tell you what is happening right now because you know what is happening.

Fool Me Once

The farmer came down and strolled around the down-below pasture.

Everyone followed the farmer as a courtesy for a few minutes. Then since the farmer had no food we went back to more important matters. Except Moldy who continued doggedly.

The farmer looked at the apple trees that had fallen over in the storm. The wood was partly cut and stacked.

"This will make a nice flavor in the pizza oven," the farmer commented to Moldy.

Then the farmer strolled a little closer to the cabana.

"Look here, Moldy," said the farmer, "this is where the morels grow in the spring."

Moldy simpered in acknowledgement.

Then the farmer strolled over to the cabana where I was lounging with Izzy and Ringo.

The farmer sat down on one of the rickety cabana benches and looked up at the sky in a slow-witted musing way. "Pizza Mit Pilz und Ziegenkase," the farmer murmured in astonishment.

Penrose and Joy and Winjay and Moldy and Abby and Brandy looked up at the sky to see what the farmer was looking at.

Izzy dived under the feeder.

The farmer looked over with a sigh at Izzy huddled just beyond arm's reach, chewing her cud shrewdly and giving the farmer a very frank stare.

"I will see you tomorrow, little lady," the farmer said, and got up from the cabana.

Izzy did not say anything but I knew what she was thinking.

Not if I see you first.