From the Police Blotter.

Sheesh, can't you take your goat for a walk at midnight in your jammies any more?

Fair Warning

Good news, my enemy Abby's twin won the Kitsap County Fair. This means Abby will go to the state fair instead of me. Pinky is going to the fair as well. Terra is the prettiest dry yearling but since she got her hair shaved she has been walking around in a state of clenchment, with her legs shut tight together and her back roached and overall she looks like a poster for bad posture or possibly even rickets.

So Iota will go instead, unless she clenches after her fair haircut. She's not much of a clencher though, the Betty daughters are almost as relaxed as the Pinky family, so I think she will get stuffed in the trailer with the rest of the 'volunteers'.

Pinky of course doesn't care about anything, she could be sent to substitute teach at the state prison tomorrow and she wouldn't care, as long as there was enough alfalfa there. She's like the honey badger.

Blue is looking SO pretty (as the farmer repeats ad nauseam) but she has done the same magic trick as Betty and Hannah Belle and somehow shut her milk off as soon as she got her fair haircut. She only dribbles out enough to keep the farmer trying to milk her up, it's very cunning the way she does it, I made a mental note of it for future reference. She still gets full service dinners on the milkstand twice a day, but every time the farmer threatens her - "you will not be going to the fair if you do not get your milk back up."

Blue looks around in fake dismay, oh dear, say it isn't so, it can't be true, and keeps gobbling.

Here Comes the Bride

She is kind of pretty. For a Nubian.

Jiggety-Jog

The things that happen are strange. But the things that don't happen are even stranger.

Jammies was supposed to have her kids in the spring. But she wasn't bred so she didn't have any kids. She was just fat.

Blue's daughter Lainey went to Minter Bay to live and she didn't fit in there. She is a born misfit. First of all she is about the cutest thing you have ever seen, she looks like a blue-eyed hood ornament, but she is a midget and she is polite and shy and that always puts her at the end of the line where there is never any food and certainly no friends. She has never had an underling. You cannot get anywhere in the herd without at least one underling.

So the farmer thought, uh oh, if she can't hold her own at Minter Bay where the goats have such lovely manners what is she going to do here on the Island with Lord of the Flies goats like Tangy. So the farmer thought it could be a world class disaster, but after all this is her home, and so the farmer went and got Lainey and brought her back, worrying all the while what might happen to such a little goat in such a big world.

And Lainey did catch Hell for several weeks, even from her own mother who wanted nothing to do with her since she had new kids. But Lainey was used to that. And she went with the flow. She started following me around and admiring me, so I could see at the least that she had good taste, so I let her sleep with me sometimes.

And then Blue looked at her one day and said oh wait a second I remember you. And Blue stopped t-boning her.

And Wronny our herd queen has funny ideas and like any good ruler she doesn't just concern herself with the predicaments of the high and mighty, but also intervenes in the squabbles of the low and inconsequential. For example she stopped everyone from picking on Moldy and Abby, who knows why. She won't even let me enjoy a nice fight with Abby, as you know.

And when Tangy backed up one day in preparation for steamrolling Lainey whom she most likely never would have caught up with anyway, Wronny brought the hammer down and rolled Tangy down the hill, literally, in a cloud of dust. Tangy got up shaking her head, and everyone turned away politely, chewing their respective cuds, and made a mental note to leave Lainey alone.

And before you know it, we looked out one day and saw Lainey head-butting her little half-sister Blue Jay, who got her name because she is a terrible pest. It almost looked like she might have an underling.

So don't listen to what they say. You can go home again.

Pumped Up

Yesterday there was a big celebration because the well pump went out and the whole thing had to be pulled out of the ground and the pump and all the piping and the check valves and the bleedbacks and every other gold-plated thing on it had to be replaced and it cost the farmer an arm and a leg.

We were all dancing in the streets because just two days before that our ship had come in and it was loaded with alfalfa from Eastern Washington and we all knew good and well that if our ship had come in three days later it would have been cancelled and that money would have gone down the well. But you can't return hay so it is here to stay.

And we were dancing in the streets but trying to be polite about it because there was a somber air about the farm as Welly the well pump was fished up from 175 feet under and laid to rest. Goodbye Welly and thank you for holding on an extra day, and I'm sure the farmer did not mean any of the curses that were raining down on your head or perhaps meant them in a friendly way the same as when Hannah Belle got stuck in the panel gate (the second time, not the first.)

RIP.

The Buttinskys

The public is very cynical and several members have inquired whether I 'thought' I really won my fight with Abby the duck-footed Oregonian. I tihnk it is pretty apparent who won the fight even though only a few excerpts of it have been shown since it was a three-hour battle that I won. Or in any case I would have won if Wronny the self-proclaimed herdqueen hadn't made me stop fighting for no apparent reason except I guess she was probably afraid that the little duckfoot would be injured as you can see in this video. Wronny and her henchgoat Pinky think they are a big slice of pie and they go around telling other people what to do. What kind of fight is it when a big 175 pound bossy-boots has to come in and help you and go two against one and then three against one when her nitwit henchgoat lumbers onto the scene. So as far as who won the so-called fight which was really a stroll in the park from my point of view I think anyone would say the one who won was the one who did not need help from the henchgoats and herdqueens of the world. Thank you.

Also ps don't worry Wronny can't read. As far as Pinky she can barely walk and chew cud at the same time.

Fight Club

Baby Belle Jr. vs the Web-Footed Oregonian.

Today and Every Day

It was a year ago today we lost our great friend Atticus. A lady stopped by a little while ago and asked if the farmer still thinks about Atticus sometimes.

"Yes," the farmer said. That was all.

Every day.

Preheated

It got hot everywhere else this summer but it never really got hot here. I don't mind the heat but it's just as well because the heat wilts our farmer really quickly. Our farmer starts spritzing and misting and calling for otter pops at about 76 degrees Fahrenheit. So you could imagine what the service was like around here a couple of years ago when the temperature got over 100.

Anyway the point is it never really got hot here this summer and that's part of the reason some of the milkers have started going into pre-heat. They don't really go into heat, but they go into pre-heat, and then they go around and start fights with each other. Or when they don't start fights through a lack of gumption or sheer shiftlessness in the case of Pinky who can't be bothered to start her own squabbles they join in the fights that are already started by the more ambitious.

On a side note Cherry went actually into heat and then realized it was too soon to be in heat but by that time she had jumped into the buck pen where three smelly swains immediately began vying for her favor. Luckily she was able to excuse herself unnoticed as the vying reached a crescendo. As she tiptoed back to the barn, they all continued vying without her. Why not, they had already started.

Anyway this morning I started thinking about some annoying things that have been happening lately. The main one is when people come over and say, "Oh my Gosh! Look at Millie! She is all grown up now! She is adorable!"

That's fine but they are looking at Abby when they say it.

"That's Abby," the farmer explains, "Millie is over there."

"She's cute too!" they say.

The more I thought about this the more infuriating it seemed.

So I went over to Abby and started a fight. The fight lasted for three hours. Even when Wronny wanted me to stop I kept fighting. Even when Jammies the pacifist tried to come between us, we kept fighting. Even when Wendell the Pest circled us yipping like a French ninny we kept fighting.

It was a good one. We both enjoyed it. We were preheated.

(Video from fight coming soon....)

Three Flies and a Velvet Glove

It took only seven years but finally it happened, like the return of the locusts. Hannah Belle as you may remember has never been properly milked out because she is exceedingly shrewd. But she has two flies in her ointment. One is she is a terrible pig and loves any kind of food. Two she loves scratches and petting. Also she is quite vain. I guess that makes three flies.

The farmer switched from iron hand which hadn't worked for seven years to velvet glove. Hannah Belle would not get any grain except on the milkstand. The farmer made sure she was good and hungry before she went on the milkstand. No more all-day snacking, just grass hay between meals.

When she got on the milkstand the farmer would begin praising her to the skies. Such a beautiful goat and so intelligent. Such lovely children and grandchildren. Such a pretty face and a long neck and my goodness, the topline, the chine, the hips, the pins, the thurls. Was there ever a more magnificent goat? And by the way, that time she got out of the locked horse trailer - how did she do that? Did she call someone to come and let her out?

More snacks? How about a pretzel with PEANUT BUTTER inside it? From Trader Joe's, not from the convenience store. The farmer showed Hannah Belle the label.

Then the petting and scratching. On the chest. That itchy spot behind the shoulder. More food.

And then the farmer would start milking very casually, still complimenting Hannah Belle and admiring her every little action and movement - the most transparent fawning, really - and stopping frequently so that it hardly seemed the milking had even really begun and before you know it, only seven years later, Hannah Belle was milked ALL THE WAY OUT and there were no hard feelings.

In the end, even Achilles had heels.

Hi Mom

Hannah Belle's kids Charlie and Little Belle went to a new home. We just got this postcard from them. It's always nice when kids write.

Still Undefeated

The farmer set up the milkstand in the middle of the barn aisle for purposes of milking Hannah Belle ALL THE WAY OUT.

Onlookers looked on.

Hannah Belle jumped right on the stand and began eating as fast as she could.

"That's nice," said the farmer. "How nice."

The farmer started milking at top speed.

Things went very well for two minutes, then Hannah Belle began performing milk evading maneuvers which drew oohs and ahs of appreciation from the spectators. Not since Scouty's udder was bitten by a spider have we seen this type of Cirque du Soleil performance.

I was frankly expecting a better showing but in fairly short order the farmer looked into the bucket dreamily, where there was two minutes worth of beautiful Nigerian milk, and said, "this will be enough for several lattes."

And that was that.

7 to 0.

Smackdown Scheduled

Everyone here is very excited. Hannah Belle's kids went home yesterday. That's too bad, but they got a nice home so it isn't sad. Hannah Belle isn't bothered.

But she is carrying around about a gallon of delicious Nigerian milk.

Which means that this morning the farmer announced, "Look at you, Hannah Belle, you will get pretty tired carrying that big bag of milk around. I will milk you out this evening."

The farmer says this every year.

"I mean ALL the way out," the farmer clarifies, for the edification of the po-faced onlookers.

"Oh really," says Hannah Belle, t-boning a mini-mancha out of her way at the feeder.

Hannah Belle is seven years old. So the farmer has said this six times. The score is Hannah Belle 6, Farmer 0.

Stay tuned.

Betty's Dilemma

Well I shut off my milk because I was afraid my chandelier might start looking too good and I did NOT want to go to the fair. I just shut it off like a faucet.

Betty's kids went to their new homes and Betty made the mistake of filling up with milk which made her udder look really beautiful.

The farmer started milking her which Betty didn't like at first. But Betty is naturally agreeable and after a couple of days she could see the upside - free lunch twice a day, followed by a licorice whip - so she quit fussing because that wasted valuable time when she could have had her head in the dish stuffing herself.

I told her Betty, I said, you better watch yourself or you will wind up at Puyallup in September. You will be in a tiny little pen and people will be staring at you like before and they will ask, "how old is this little lamb?"

"Is this one of those alpacas?" they will say.

"Can I pet it?" they will ask, looming over you like dirigibles and reeking of hot dogs and sunscreen.

"Would you mind selling me this goat?" they will inquire. "I live in an apartment but I take long walks every day."

"Why is it standing in the back of the pen," they will complain, "my little boy wants to pull its ears."

Mmm, said Betty.

Betty! I said.

Mmm, said Betty. I could see she was thinking about my helpful comments.

But I could see also that she was thinking about the beautiful stacks of free alfalfa at the Fair. The beautiful dairy alfalfa. No stems in it. Just beautiful leaves from the Columbia Basin. And also the scone crumbs in the morning before the public comes, the sleepy mornings in the barn with goats from all over to look at. And the orchard grass on the side. And the beautiful alfalfa, piled up as far as the eye can see, better than the best wedding cake in the world.

"Betty!" I yelled. "SHUT OFF YOUR MILK! BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE!"

Bloody Murder

Well today some people came and got Duchess, Betty's daughter. She is going to live in the north of France. Or maybe Granite Falls? Someplace like that. Anyway Duchess didn't seem to mind much because they had alfalfa in their car and she couldn't cry while she was eating so the mother and child separation was a little muted to say the least.

Bye mom, luv ya, I'll email you some alfalfa from France if I don't forget. Or Granite Falls?

But there was nothing muted with Percy, he got stuck one pasture over from his mother and screamed bloody murder after going seventeen minutes without milk. Meanwhile Jimmy was swelling up like a beach ball with the milk Percy had not drunk and pretty soon she was crying bloody murder too. Then with all the bloody murder Lucy realized her son Baxter had gone off accidentally with Percy, just following the wrong trenchcoat in the crowd, not through any intention of malfeasance. And so she started in with the bloody murder and when Baxter heard his mother screaming bloody murder one pasture away he took a good long look around him and said, 'wait a minute, these people aren't my mother," and he started in crying bloody murder.

That's what kind of day it was which the farmer knew would happen this morning after listening to the weather lady on the newscast say that today there would be "the threat of partial clearing."

That is the kind of summer we are having. A summer where a weather lady can say with a straight face, "This afternoon there is a threat of partial clearing."

Don't worry, the threat did not materialize. Just the rain. And the bloody murder.

MMMMilk

The Tiny Giant enjoys a cold frosty one at the F.O.G.

photo by Mark Virtue.

F.O.G. (Field of Goats)

The Field of Goats day was a success mostly because I didn't have to go. Tangy went and also Hannah Belle's kids Charlie and Belle. From the other farms Filbert also went, and so did Prancer the Dancer from Blackberry Hollow. Also Pepper and Buttons and the Tiny Giant, the world's largest Nigerian bottle baby, he looks like Yao Ming with wattles.

I think there was one more but really who cares. The important thing is I didn't go.

Apparently there was a pile of rocks there to climb and there was some packgoating and also feeding of the bottle baby. It seems like everyone probably had a certain amount of fun, except Charlie and Belle who spent the whole time thinking about the milk they weren't drinking, since their mother didn't come with them and they don't care for drinking from bottles.

photo by Wendy Webster

Meanwhile back at the farm we got switched pastures which we don't like so there was a rebellion with Blue's delinquent daughters refusing to stay in the new pasture. For once the usually obedient Duke and Duchess joined the rebellion and by that time I decided to join too since there was nothing else to do.

Then Betty joined and so did Joy and so I resigned from the rebellion because it was old news and also I saw there were blackberries in the new pasture.

The Hay

It is the annual week of The Hay and I would personally like to take a moment to thank The Hay for its service to caprinity.

Dear Hay: Thank You.

Dear Hay: Please try to stay out of the feeders close to Betsy or you will find yourself immediately engulfed in a vast dark burbling cavern from which only berries and noxious gasses (please, Betsy, we are trying to breathe) escape.

As far as the disobedience parts 2-613 previously promised, the size of the list has grown unmanageable and cannot be attempted at this time owing to The Hay and other more pressing matters but yes there has been additional malfeasance some of it mind-boggling.

But there have also been strange obediences including an alarming pattern of cooperation by Tangy who now fancies herself a professional goat. Yesterday she allowed herself to be dressed up in a pack and new collar in preparation for this weekend's first-ever Field of Goats, a small humble event taking place at the Longbranch Improvement Club where she will parade around demonstrating Goats of Little Brain in Action.

Tangy only complained when she was asked to stop packgoating around and go back in with the general population. She did not swordfish walk or pancake herself on the ground or even so much as try to t-bone Wendell who was yipping around foolishly as usual.

"What a good girl you are, Tangy," said the farmer, "see, if you just practice a little you will see it is fun."

Sure. That's fun, carrying other people's stuff around on a hot day.

Hannah Belle thinks Tangy is saving up for one colossal disobedience, a public-swordfish-pancaking for the record books.

The suspense is killing us.

Disobedience

Disobedience has been running rampant here. Betty and a gang of hoodlum kids made a hole under the side fence in the front pasture and let themselves into the garden where they did not do anything productive. The participants have been issued demerits, and some of them are getting close to their limit. Oh actually one of them was me.

Big Orange and Hannah Belle got turned out in the back pasture to stretch their legs with their babies. They jumped the fence and left their screaming babies behind and started a rumble in the lower pasture that ranged up and down the hill for over an hour.

Everyone in the lower pasture has been issued demerits whether or not they actually participated because the farmer could tell that the ones who weren't participating were just waiting their turn and probably lazy on top of disobedient. Big Orange has been banned from the back pasture.

Willen the fat Haflinger broke the latch on the gate. Then he broke a fence rail.

Pinky kicked over a bucket of milk.

"That's the last straw!" The farmer yelled. But this was premature; there were additional straws to come.

....stay tuned...

Welcome to Oregon

Well this weekend nobody told me but somebody came and got my two little daughters Pretty Baby and Calypso. Everyone was being very nice to me for a change and I got a few special treats and even Betty asked me how I was feeling and I said "fine," and Moldy came up to me and said "do you miss your little daughter?"

And I said "why should I?" because I could see Izzy through the fence in the down below pasture where she was snuggling with my mother Belle Pepper.

"She's standing right there," I said, and then all of a sudden I put two and two together and realized why my chandelier was feeling too full with all the milk that had not been drunk by anyone. And so I pitched a fit.

The farmer came and brought me some peanuts and milked me on the milkstand with some nice grain and scratched my ears.

"Your chandelier is looking much better, Millie," the farmer said. "Maybe you would like to go to the fair after all."

So then I pitched another fit until some more treats were provided. The farmer let me stay on free range for the rest of the day and so I got to watch when Moldy's daughter Abby went into the kidding stall to have her kids.

Moldy had to go in too because they never go anywhere except together and so both of them were in there bawling when Abby popped out her first kid, a tiny implacable kitten about three inches long. The kitten prowled off immediately in search of milk while Abby laid down and had another kid, this one normal size but it seemed big because the other one was so small.

"Oh how nice," said the farmer, " a boy and a girl."

The farmer needs new glasses though because the two girls Hannah Belle had the other day turned out actually to be a boy and a girl and this boy and girl turned out to be two girls, one large and one small.

I had had high hopes that they might be normal on account of being born here and eventually coming under the influence of the Baby Belle family but right from the start they have been showing Moldy family tendencies and in fact as soon as they hit the ground Moldy said, "Welcome to Oregon!"

Which just goes to show. The farmer is calling them Pebbles and Sandy, but I am going to call them Corvallis and Pendleton.

PS - The farmer somehow deleted several comments and it seems the commenting is not acting right and someone kindly wrote in regarding Tangy's exploits to remind the public that YOU MUST BE VERY CAREFUL riding a goat and make sure the goat is big and can hold your weight because YOU CAN HURT THE GOAT if you aren't careful. And remember too that the goat needs time to adjust so you have to build up the weight a little at a time. Tangy has been practicing carrying a pack and she is as big as a house, this is really the only kind of goat you can ride for even a short while.

PPS - When I say "the goat" in the previous PS, I mean the big Nubian crosses. Do NOT ride a Nigerian Dwarf. If you see a Nigerian Dwarf somewhere, simply give him or her a yogurt covered pretzel and go on your way. Thank you.