These are our three goats in milk at Iron Oak Farm. Esther our Alpine, Gretta and Nan our two Nubians. The Nubians produce about twice as much cream as our Alpine, but the Alpine produces twice the amount of milk total. So it’s a nice mix of useful milk that I’m learning to fill all of our dairy needs. We get about ¾ of a gallon from our girls in the morning milking and a little less than that at night. We are still bottle feeding the goats kids so we split our harvest with the babies. 

 Besides drinking milk outright, (in our coffee, with dinner or homemade cookies), our biggest dairy demand is butter. I use a lot of butter in cooking, sautéing and baking, I mix it with olive oil to give pan fried foods a wonderful caramelized sear that you just can’t get with oil alone.

For so long, butter has been a bad word when it comes to healthy eating, But I believe that our butter is a healthy source of fat. And I’m not afraid to eat it in moderation. Just as grass fed beef is a healthier alternative to the commercially raised cows, our goats get grain while we milk them, but the rest of their time is spent out in green pasture grazing on lush grass, or munching on the hay that we bale ourselves from the same field.

We jumped into dairy goats before I realized that goat butter wasn’t going to be as easy to make as cow butter.

Goat milk, unlike cow milk, is naturally homogenized. Which means the cream doesn’t separate as easily to the top of the milk. Eventually the cream will rise to the top if the milk is left undisturbed for a few days, but the yield is small and it’s a tedious process that holds the milk up waiting to be skimmed.

In frustration, I searched the internet for a better solution and found that there was such a gizmo called a cream separator. The device uses centrifugal force to separate the cream droplets from the milk. Many of these machines go for $300 and up, but we found an inexpensive model on E-bay for about $75. There is a range of simple, hand crank models available with a little searching.

To make the goat butter I place the jars of milk in the clean sink and fill almost to the top of the lid rims with hot water from the tap. I let them sit in the warm bath for about 45 minutes or until the milk is about 85 to 90 degrees.

We place two collection bowls under the cream separator spigots and begin turning the handle. It really whirls! The milk can be poured into the hopper and the cream comes out one spout and the skimmed milk comes out the other. When the milk is almost separated, I pour a bit of the skimmed milk back through, just to be sure we flushed all the cream out.

In our latest batch of 2 and ¾ gallons of milk we got almost a half gallon of cream.

I poured off a cup of cream to make sour cream and the rest we shook into butter. Shake the jar back and forth until you see the butter globules form. Once the butter takes shape I let the jar rest for a bit. The butter floats to the top and forms a mass which makes it easier to wash.

Using my fingers as a sieve, I pour the butter milk off the butter, the pillow of butter rests against my palm and the buttermilk runs between. You can save the buttermilk to use in baking, etc. 

 I wash the butter by adding cold water to the jar with the butter and shake it. The more milk you can remove the longer your butter will stay fresh. I do this several times until the water runs clear. The cold water will also help the butter firm slightly and take shape.

Then I use our wooden butter paddles to drain the water from the butter. This helps the butter to become more solid like store bought. The paddles have tiny groves that smear though the butter and release the water droplets to run down the grooves. I knead the butter on a cutting board. I smear the butter between the two paddles and then tilt the cutting board to let the water drain out. You could also use two forks with a similar outcome.

Then I salt the butter to taste.   

Goat butter is always pure white because unlike cows, goats absorb all the carotene they eat. Carotene is what gives grass fed butter that golden hue.

Spring is the time of the greatest collection of energies on a farm. The long death of winter creates massive amounts of anticipation for the renewal season, and the marking of fresh foods to be found abroad. Seed planting and harvesting the fall sown kale and spinach really gets a homesteaders palate whetted for the wild foods bounties laying just beyond the garden fence. 

The first one I see is inevitably the dandelions. While this sends a great deal of people scrambling for digging contraptions or flailing to get to the spray bottle of ACV, I get to picking. Firstly, there is not a single animal on my farm that doesn't LOVE dandelions. Especially the new shoots, and the younger, the better. I pick them for my rabbits, pigs, turkeys and chickens, then I let the goats out on their tethers (always supervised, of course) and watch them clean every last yellow spot in their reach before even contemplating the grasses that also fill the yard. I also enjoy the young dandelion greens, but I prefer them in a mixed green salad. And then there's the accounts of nearly mythical dandelion wine. I make a lot of wine every year, and I love to experiment, but I still haven't tried making a batch of this yellow miracle... I can't even fathom how potent it would be.

Next comes the asparagus around the Forgotten Forty, and marks my favorite time of the season, hands down. I take the evenings to hunt around fence lines and the edges of woods, in fields and along the dirt road in front of the farm. This time is particularly meditative for me, providing quiet time in the woods right in the middle of the busiest time of the year around here. I take my phone with me to snap pictures of sunsets and anything else of interest on the way, grab a pitcher with a little water in it to keep the stalks fresh, and hit the trails. I always keep a mesh bag with me just in case I should stumble across some Morels or Maitake mushrooms on the way. 

Often, I'll set up a meal around one item, and work my way over the property looking for other complimentary ingredients. Chives and ramps for just about any meal, the odd meal of nettles thrice boiled, eggs from the hen house to make a morel mushroom omelet breakfast the next day. With a little imagination (which deserves a good workout too) any meal can have wild elements, with just a little forethought and preparation. I've even had dinner parties that started with a wild food foray and ended with a glass of wild mulberry wine while recounting the sunset and the beautiful places we found this or that. Beautiful memories are crafted this way.

Seasonal forays are an incredible way to experience the world around you in an array of differing ways. Exercise, meditation, nature watching, and all the delightful tastes to be found along the way. Get your butts outside! It's SPRING!!!

Well, kidding season is over for another year at Iron Oak Farm. We had some challenges, but overall I would consider it a very successful year. All the dams and kids are doing great and I’m glad to have the worry of birthing behind us.  

Esther, our Alpine gave birth to triplets almost a month after our other three does. I was alone when she went into labor, and things got a little complicated. The first baby was breach. I could see the bubble, but no head inside…only a tail. She seemed to be having a hard time, and really scared me when she laid down and started flailing her legs out in thrusts. I decided that it was time for me to help her.  

I grabbed the rubber gloves from our birthing kit that we keep close at hand during this time of the year, sanitized my hands and lubed up. I broke the bubble, which seemed to give her some relief and she gave a good push and the kid’s bottom came out a bit. But Esther gave a great holler and I was really worried. So I reached inside and found a leg. I gently pulled the leg out and at the same time Esther gave another push and the baby delivered one leg forward and one leg back. I removed the mucus from around the nose and mouth and pulled the baby around under mom’s nose so she could meet her new little one.   

Esther immediately started licking her new baby…this is my favorite part. I love to see the moms bonding with their kids. The long wait, and all the uncomfortable months… it’s a wonderful moment.  

But Esther wasn’t done. She kept “maaing” and hunching and rocking. Soon she stood up and started pushing again. This time two bubbles were trying to come out at the same time. She was trying to deliver two babies simultaneously. (Oh Lord!)  

So I stripped off the gloves I was wearing, grabbed a clean pair, sanitized and lubed up again. I popped both bubbles and was relieved to see two sets of hooves rather than a rear end. I carefully reached inside her and pushed the one baby back while pulling the second baby gently out and down with her next push. It took 3 or 4 pushes with me carefully pulling for the baby to deliver. It delivered backwards with back legs first. The next baby, Esther delivered quickly and without my assistance and was in the normal position. 

Mom cleaned her new little ones and I brought her some warm molasses water which she guzzled. The next hour or so Esther cleaned her babies and encouraged them to stand and nurse. Such a good mom! 

After it was all over and Mom and the babies were settling in, suddenly I realized that my adrenaline must have been in overdrive. A great relief washed over me and I was instantly exhausted. When Zach got home I broke down slightly, tears of joy and release of nerves. I was proud of myself for being able to make quick decisions and act without second guessing myself. And I can’t help feeling a closer bond with Esther.    

Our bottle fed babies that our other does delivered are doing great as well. Growing like crazy and demanding bottles with more and more persistence. They are eating grain now and hay in addition to all the milk that their mothers produce. To read their story visit my post Goat Kids Galore. 

We are very blessed. 

What a week! For almost a month now I’ve been wishing and wishing for our goats to give birth. Watching the signs, checking the girls, hoping, fretting, worrying. Trying to make them comfortable in every way I know to make a goat comfortable. And then…all at once the floodgates opened and baby goats are everywhere!!! 3 of our 4 pregnant does gave birth within the same 24 hours. It was a combination of adrenaline, exhaustion and beauty.  

But now we have ourselves in a fine how-do-you-do. For some reason, all three does rejected their babies. Our vet said that “sometimes these things happen”, but the logical side of me wants to know why. I feel it is too coincidental for there not to be an explanation, perhaps something we can do differently? But then again, maybe it is just nature or bad luck like the vet said and I’m trying to make sense of something that has no answer…or maybe just not to us humans. Here is our story.  

We bred 1 Angora doe, 2 Nubians, and an Alpine last fall. We’ve been raising goats going on 4 years now, but this is our second year kidding. Last year we bred two of our Angora does. The first birth went beautifully. The doe (Knit) gave birth, cleaned her doeling (Beatrix) and after a short rest, got her up and began nursing. It was amazing!

Our other angora doe (Purl) gave birth, cleaned her buckling (Ichabod) and then ignored him. Ichabod chased his mother for hours trying to nurse. Each time Purl would flare her ears at him and bolt to the opposite side of the pen. This went on until poor little Ichabod was exhausted and gave up trying. We ended up milking her and feeding it back to him. He lived with his mother, aunt and sister in the barn but took the bottle from us.

Many a goat person told me that this was classic behavior for a first timer, and that if we bred her again, chances are, she would accept the next kid.

Not the case. This year Purl followed suit. She gave birth to her doeling Harriette. Cleaned her, nuzzled with her, but refused to let her nurse. We figured it was just something about this particular goat and if we are going to breed her we would have to be prepared to bottle feed. We were disappointed but willing.   

Seven hours later Gretta our Nubian gave birth while we were in the house to twins; a buckling Gepetto and a doeling Ingrid. We were checking the girls every hour because it was a particular cold night and they looked like they could go any minute. We found the babies in opposite corners of the kidding stall, soaked to the bone and freezing. Gretta had completely ignored them. Didn’t even clean them and was ignorantly munching hay from her trough.  

We brought the babies in the house to dry and warm them. The buck was very weak and both kids were shaking with chill. We milked Gretta and gave them each a bottle. The buck perked up a bit which was quite the relief.  

4 hours later, while we were still trying to get the first two going, Nan gave birth to twin doelings, Abigail and Eleanor. We were present for this birth. We kept our distance outside the stall and let her take care of things. After the babies were born, she half heartedly licked them for a couple minutes, stood and walked on them in route to eat some hay. We left them be for about an hour, hoping that they would work things out for themselves. Soon the babies began to shake with chill and knowing that colostrum is so important in the first hours of life. We took these babies in as well to warm and dry them, milked the mother and fed her babies.

We struggled at this point as to what to do with the kids. I feel really strong that goats should be with goats...that’s where they belong. It is natural and the best way. But with the way the mother’s were behaving, I didn’t trust them to lay with the babies on a 15 degree night. We decided that we would keep the babies inside over night and try to reintroduce them to their mothers in the morning.

Morning came and we carried the babies out to their mothers. They completely ignored them. Which we were half expecting and ready to be patient, until one of the babies let out a cry and Nan rammed it. At this point we gave in. We brought the babies back in the house where they will stay until the weather warms and they can go into a kidding pen in the barn.  

I have wracked my brain trying to figure out a pattern, something we might have done wrong. We tried to give each goat distance during the birth, in fact for Gretta’s we were in the house. We separated Purl in her own maternity stall, but kept Nan and Gretta together because they get really stressed when they are apart. They are sisters and have such similar personalities, sweet, sweet girls and you never see one without the other. They get really frantic if they are separated and will call to each other in a panic. I didn’t think this sort of stress in the last days of their pregnancy would be a good thing. It broke my heart to see them acting so cold towards their own babies.      

We are now bottle feeding 5 baby goats! Four are living in a giant play pen in our living room until the weather warms above freezing, and Harriette comes back and forth to get her bottle. Later in the week I’d like to introduce them to the rest of the herd with supervision. The kidding pen will also be near the adult goats so they can see and smell each other through the fence. We still have Esther, our Alpine to get through. She is due any minute and hopefully she will possess the mothering instinct. She didn’t live with us during her first two seasons, but the farm we got her from never mentioned any issues with her and her babies so we are hopeful.   

Right now we’re taking one day at a time and enjoying our little ones. They are precious and I count each one as a true, true blessing.  

For more about last year’s kidding story read my post Our Kidding Story.

NOTE: For those of you that don’t like to read bad things, well, it’s up to you to read it or not.  

Pulling a breach kid. There are 2 different breach ways, really 3. The first is: hind feet come first (most common breach).  You’ll know right away the kid is breach as the bottoms of the hooves are facing up. They will show as a white pad & soft. When you have a kid born look at how the bottoms of the hooves are white and spongy till they stand up and that part comes off. If the water did not break yet, then pinch it to break the bag. The kid needs to come out fast, I mean within minutes. In this direction the kids head comes out last which means when the water breaks the fluid goes down the lungs. This is the reason to get the kid out fast. You have to remember that gravity is pulling against the kid and the heavy end is up front. When I see this I opt for turning the kid so it’s in the correct direction. I do break the water, push the hind feet back in and find the front feet, both at the same time if I can. Then the head better be facing the front feet as well. If there is only one kid this is easier. Turning is fast if the kid has its head in the right place. Some doe’s are small inside while others are like the Grand Canyon. If a single kid, it’s still easier to turn. Just put the 2 hooves between your fingers and turn them in a clock direction if using your right hand. When the feet are in the birth canal, make sure you feel the head also to make sure it’s not facing over the kids back. Then you are good to go. You can keep pulling the kid out. But hold it upside down to get the fluid out of the lungs. Coughing is good, the kid, not you. Now, if I see the bag is full of brown or yellow yoke stuff, the kid is stressed and it comes out breach, I won’t turn it. Remember when the legs are out to pull downwards towards the mom’s hind feet. The faster, the better. I say this but it will take time. Pulling a kid is not the fastest thing in the world. It’s just the fastest way to get the kid out.  

MMR RB Merlot 12/20/12

Another breach way is the hind end (butt) coming. You don’t know this till you have to go inside. Your finger will most likely find the rectum first and the tail. You have to push the kid forward, find the hind legs, follow to the back hooves and bring the hooves up and into the birth canal, don’t turn as it’s probably been long enough. Just get the kid out.  

The 3^rd way to have a breach kid: This has happened only 2 times, I went in to just below my fingernail and there were both hocks. If you try to picture it in your mind, you’ll understand how I felt. My heart sank. The water had already been broken for some time so I already knew the kid was dead. A large one at that. With both hind legs tucked up under the kid, and in the birth canal to boot,
this kind takes time. This one was 2 hours worth of time. I had to work my middle finger to the front of a hock and hook it to try to get the leg out straight. This was an hour just for the first leg. When it was out, there was more room to get the second leg. This doe was in labor  or some time and I didn’t  know it, plus the afterbirth was wanting out also. She was not happy and being only 10 months old, I’m amazed she made it. (**I didn’t breed her at 5 months old, I have no clue how she was bred so young but it does happen.) They don’t read the books we write about them.  

MMR NA T-Bird 12/10/12

Then comes the pulling and I mean with everything I had as I wasn’t getting any help from her being in labor, she’s not pushing that much and may be trying to hold the kid in. She was screaming her head off and I had to block it out so I can do my best to save her. If not, I loose her also. That’s not an option for me. Loosing mom also, for me, is total defeat.  

I had to pull this kid so hard that I was pulling the dam’s body with the kid. I ended up with my back side on the ground with my feet against her bottom to keep her in place. To tell the truth, I didn’t hear her screams after a time as I was fixed on the kid getting out. The shoulders were the worst part, thickest aspect of it. When they were past, the neck and head came easy. This took 45
minutes of pulling and my body yelled at me the next morning to remind me of it. Mom was bleeding but only drops and I was very happy for that. She got ½ cc of LA 200 to ward off infection. She went to eating hay right away which pleased me.  

The worst way to pull a kid is the next post and I warn any of you with weak stomachs. Crying may happen.  

Suzy Minck
www.milkmaidranch.com

The past two weeks have been an odd mix of worry and excitement. Our three dairy goats Esther, Nan and Gretta are expecting babies any time and my mothering instinct has kicked in. Lord help the person who tries to get me out of the house for more than 2 hours at a time. I am still dealing with the “let nature take its course” mentality, and I do believe that nature knows best…I do. I know that goats have been doing this for thousands of years without human help. But goats in the wild also die, their babies die and freeze to death, they starve and perish sometimes and that too is a part of nature.

Our goats don’t live in the wild. We are responsible for them and that is a responsibility I take to heart. If there’s something I can do to ease their pain, make them more comfortable, healthier or successful in their pregnancies, then I’m going to do it…even if it means they have to admit me when it’s all said and done. 

Last year we bred our Angora does, Knit and Purl. The first delivery went marvelous. We took a break from the watch to take a nap, and when we went out, there was a perfect little doeling (Beatrix) curled up next to Knit happily being licked from head to toe. Our other doe, Purl, was a stinker! She had a little trouble delivering our buckling Ichabod, and we had to re-adjust him. Then once he was out, she rejected him and wouldn’t allow him to nurse. We bottle raised him, it was trying at times but I can’t deny the bond it created between me and that little goat. (For more about the birth of our Angora Kids read my post Our Kidding Story) 

It’s been really cold this spring and I worry that if something similar happens, the babies might freeze. I don’t trust heat lamps left unattended in the barn with goats. They’re too active and I worry about fire.  

So needless to say I’m a little frazzled. The midnight trips to the barn, analyzing their bodies, behaviors and habits, trying to see if there is a sign that might indicate they’re ready is getting to me. I’m not complaining necessarily, honestly I’m enjoying the excuse of getting to spend more time with the girls. In some small way I feel as though I’m part of the gang. But I when I’m in the house, or the grocery store, my brain is in the barn. 

Our goats were due approximately on the 24^th of February. This was their estimated 150th day of gestation. This number is very approximated because we never actually saw our buck Gideon mate with all our girls, so it could be off by a week or so. But here are some differences that we’ve been noticing.  

They’ve been consuming more water. 

Nesting, laying in the straw bedding and arranging it around them. 

Licking their sides and sort of “whisper maa-ing” to their bellies. 

Grunting, yawning and becoming more vocal 

Passing gas and relieving themselves much more often 

Enlarged vulva and occasional discharge 

Their udders have milk, but I would say they are only about half full. For our two does this is their first kidding so their udders are smaller.  

You can see their rumen motion like a wave across their side.  

Arching and stretching their backs 

Holding their tails in an awkward almost bent looking position 

Where the girls were carrying the babies higher and more to the sides, their bellies have dropped and now the babies are under them more. Their hips have sunken as well leaving a hollow spot right in from of the hip bones.  

Only time will tell when the babies will arrive. I’m trying to be patient and trust in our girls to know what needs to be done when the time comes. I hope I can be there to witness the miracle, but if I’m not, the joy of new life on our farm is blessing enough.

For more about our goats visit our blog at Iron Oak Farm 

Remember his information is “in general” as not every labor is the same and for the most part, the doe won’t have a problem.  

When only one leg is out and the nose is showing, this is not a big issue. The kid can still be born without your help. If the leg is over the head, just move it into the normal position. This means you have to go in and feel it. But, this is harder for mom to deliver with the leg back. If one leg is back, it will give more room for the head though.  

These are brother and sister and they were born in 2010, I had to assist.

This is really, not an issue. Mom can do it with me watching; but if the head is also back, go for the other leg to be correct. This means going deep to hook the knee with your finger. It will slip out easier. If you see one hoof and the nose, she can do it.  I’ve had some kids when finely in the right direction they shoot out with the next push from mom. YEAH! 

Now, I’ve had plenty of heads coming and no feet. NOT fun. The shoulders get hung up on the pelvis. So, the head HAS to go back in so you can get at least one front hoof in the exit lane. Again, if mom is stressed, get the other hoof and GET THAT KID OUT! I better say that when things, feet and head, are in the correct position, it goes better.  To me, I don’t do anything till the water breaks. If mom is pushing and pushing with nothing happening, I will go in with fingers only to “see” what is going on by feel. If I have to break the water, that kid is coming out with my help. Jumping the gun is a thing I have to weigh. If I break the water and feel a foot, then I may give it 15 minutes. All this does depend on how far apart the contractions are.

If any of you have been in labor, you know what I mean (sorry guys). You don’t have to pull with mom pushing; she’ll push when you pull also.  When the kid is past the shoulders, pull with the kid heading toward moms hocks, NOT straight out. Downwards motion. Mom can be standing or lying down. Remember, downward motion, not straight out.  

This is MilkMaidRanch DJ Rhet Butler and he is the buckling in the other photo on the right. He is now one of my 1st generation Mini-Alpine breeding bucks. He is very flashy.

The kid's back can break if straight out.  

 I hope these will be read in order. You may print them out for future use. 

The harder deliveries will be in the next post.  

Suzy Minck   www.milkmaidranch.com

Our Nubian dairy goat Gretta  

I love to read the stories of how people started farming. Some were raised by farmers, and just as you inherit your Aunt Mildred’s green eyes, you get the farm gene. It’s in your blood, in your family, and many would never think to do anything else with their life.
 

Our heritage Black Spanish turkey  

Some of my favorite stories are the romantic ones, the fish out of water tales, where the city slicker throws caution to the winds, gives up the office with a window and moves to the country to raise cows, or chickens, or corn. I admire them; their bravery and gumption.  

A Connecticut Field Pumpkin from our heirloom pumpkin patch  

Our path to farming has been a different process. A series of baby steps directed towards our idea as to what life should look like, what food should look like, what success should look like; with a promise to trust ourselves, to see progress in perhaps a different light and chase it one system at a time.  

Our Angora Buckling Ichabod, his head is on his sister Beatrix’ back  

We’ve always been do-it-yourselfers. Some may say, to an extreme, but really it’s just walking backwards. It’s tracing back the steps of a skill to the source. If I could learn to knit, could I learn to make yarn, could I raise the animals that produce the fiber, could I grow the food that the fiber animals ate? And the path continues, walking backwards towards the source of sustenance. And surprisingly enough, it’s always simpler than we thought.  

Our Rhode Island Red chicken  

I’ve raised chickens since I was 14, a small victory with my father one Saturday afternoon at the feed store during Chick Days. A weekend errand to buy a bag of thistle for the cedar bird feeder on our deck, that turned into a box of chicks and a lifestyle that would carry through to my adulthood and eventually involve my husband Zach, who is just as addicted as I am.

 
Our pair of Pekin Ducks  

That box of chicks was the beginning of our journey, an inspiration that has brought us to our 14 acre farm where we now raise a herd of Angora goats for fiber; a herd of dairy goats that provide us with delicious milk, a flock of chickens, heritage turkeys and two bossy ducks. We also raise bees, hay our field, and grow a large organic garden and heirloom pumpkin patch.

The cross peen hammer with a hand forged tool to help make hand forged nails on the anvil 

My husband Zach chased his joy of working with metal back to the craft of blacksmithing, which he now enjoys in the traditional artisan manner: hammer, anvil and coal forge.

Our beehive showing the inner frames and some wayward comb building  

Here at Iron Oak Farm, we are still on a journey and I’m excited to have the opportunity to share that journey with the GRIT community. Our attempt at this process has led us to so many different adventures. Some successful, some, well…not so much. At times it feels as though we’re on a treadmill, stuck in one spot and other times, it feels as though  we’re running in a hundred different directions. But it doesn’t take long for the farm to remind us to slow down, to stroll, to cherish the small steps that add up to a beautiful set of goals and a satisfying lifestyle.

My Rope Stands at the Ready!

Roping.  I never in my whole life thought I would know how to rope something, or even NEED to rope something, besides, they only do that in the rodeo, right?  But suddenly, although I am no expert, I am finding it to be one of my most useful homesteading skills! 

I sort of learned by accident.  After we finally determined that we have moved too far from our old church to travel back there every week, we started church shopping.  On a whim, we decided to try out "Cowboy Church."  In case you aren't familiar with it, Cowboy Church is a new movement wherein your church experience is tied in with ranching.  Basically, it is a come as you are service.  If you have cow poop on your boots or dirt on your shirt, no one cares.  They baptize people in their choice of horse water trough or in the river.  It really is a cool place.  Unfortunately, we came to realize that we weren't quite "cowboy" enough to fit in there, so the search for a new church continues.

Anyway, they often held events at a nearby arena, and the pastor's son is a championship roper.  He was always willing to teach anyone who showed the slightest interest.  Our son, then 5, was absolutely enthralled.  He had a lesson one night and then begged me to take him to the feed store the next day to get a "real" rope to practice with.  Since I found this to be a much more engaging pastime than playing DS, I caved and we ended up getting one kid sized rope for him and one grown-up sized rope for daddy.  He roped everything in sight for about a week before he decided he was done roping.  So, except for Eric occasionally roping me when I wasn't expecting it, the ropes just sat around most of the summer.

Then we got new goats.  But not just any new goats, a Nigerian Dwarf buck and a mixed breed weather for him to be friends with.  They are very sweet goats, but they are pretty scared of people.  They can also get out of our fence.  I have seen them find holes that the other goats wouldn't dream of trying to get out.  They can slip through rails into the barn and then into the back yard (rather than the pasture where they belong) and I've seen the shrimpy little guy even jump right over a 4' high fence with barbed wire at the top.  So, basically, not only can they get out, when they do get out, I can't catch them.

The little guys and a Lamancha were out. This is our neighbor's driveway, our pasture is to the left of the shot. 

Enter the rope.  I never thought I would need to rope anything until I had these crazy little goats!  As it turns out, though, it is a very effective method of catching the little boogers, and I'm not as bad at it as I originally thought!

Having roped them a few times now, the goats are on to me.  Now,  if they are outside the fence, all I have to do is approach them while holding the rope and they dash straight to the nearest opening.  

So really, I don't even have to rope them anymore, they know I will if I have to, and I know I can if I need to, and that's all that seems to matter!  (Besides, it's super-fun, but don't tell anyone!)

Have you ever tried to rope anything?

Recently, we acquired a new citizen on our homestead. I shall briefly give an objective account of her, so that the rest of this post makes some sense. The new member is a young saanen/nubian cross doeling (unbred girl goat), who hitherto our purchasing her had been raised primarily as a wild goat, being allowed full access to all pasture without human interaction. Other than being backwards in her manners toward people, she seemed friendly, healthy, and exactly what we wanted for our next goat, thus inclining us to purchase her.

“Mother! It is a goat, another goat! Aren't I right Mother?” Meringue asked.

“Why so it is, she looks so sweet,” Kitty replied.

“Hmmph. How do we know it is a goat? Could be an impostor!” Maybelle conjectured.

“I think she's purdy,” Cadbury chimed in.

“Well, I am going to say 'hello' like a polite goat, while you all stare at her, making her feel uncomfortable,” Nutella said as patronizingly as possible.

Without waiting for a remark from anyone else, Nutella walked straight up to the little doeling, looked her in the eye and said, “You're new here aren't you? If you need anything, I will be here to help, I know how it is being new. Are you scared?”

The little doeling shrunk back from Nutella, because the size difference only added to her insecurities. Nutella didn't miss her reaction, and asked quietly, “do you have a name, dear?”

After a quick “I wanna go 'ome!” maaa, from her, she said that her name was Tiffin. Cadbury rushed over, feeling very mean for not going over to greet her with Nutella, asked how did she do, and grabbed Tiffin's hoof and shook it heartily. When he let go of her hoof, she looked puzzled, then looked at him, and said, “Howd'ye doo?” and poked him with her hoof.

This was a very unexpected reaction, so Nutella and Cadbury did a quick retreat, to discuss with the others the etiquette she had showed thus far.

“She seems to be a little backwards in her manner and speech,” Nutella mentioned before the others.

“Possibly, but I think she was funny,” Cadbury said defensively.

Maybelle looked over her shoulder, “She looks like an honest to goodness spy. Out to steal our hay. Nothing funny about that.”

“No Maybelle, she is just uncomfortable, and remember, not everyone received the education that we have been privileged to,” Kitty intuitively stated.

“I think she's a redneck,” Meringue said in a very indelicate manner.

“We don't call others names,” Maybelle and Kitty reprimanded Meringue sternly.

“She's just a lil Tiffin. It's a cute name,” It was clear that Cadbury had taken to her already.

“I don't care if she is not as well educated as we are. I am sure that she is a sweet soul, and will have lots of interesting things to say,” Nutella was getting exasperated.

As a group they all walked over to where she was standing. Seeing five goats approaching her made her start to shake in her hooves, and one of us humans gave her an encouraging pat. The goats stood in a line from oldest to youngest, and politely introduced themselves.

“I am Maybelle, part Boer, but not sure what else. Two and a half years old. Queen of this pasture.”

“My name is Kitty, daughter of Maybelle. One and a half years old. Next in line of succession.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, dear Tiffin. Sorry for not introducing myself properly earlier. I am Nutella, milk producer in chief.”

“I'm Meringue. Daughter of Kitty. Six months old. Hi.”

“My name is Cadbury, but you can call me Bury-bury if you want, that is what some of my friends call me. I hope you can stay with us a while.”

“Howdy. I'ma Tiffin. I ain't completely postitives why I'ma here but y'all seem really freindlay like, so I think I might 'swell be here fur a while. Hope y'all don' min' too much.”

“You are welcome to stay as long as you wish,” said Maybelle graciously.

“As I jis sayed, it is a real pleasure to bea sho'. Meetin' nice folks sich as yurself, and even tho' I'ma longa ways frum home, this'll be real nice. It sho' will. I ain't sho' when I had last meeted nicer folks.”

“My dear, we will have you all polished up in a bit. All you need is some refining, and you will be one of us,” Kitty said with much hope.

“I suppose tha' one 'ome is jus' as good as 'nother, when them people innit are kin' and frenly.”

“If you all want to go back in the pen, I think I will take little Tiffin around, to show her the place.”

“Can I come too, Nutella?” Cadbury asked.

“Please let Bury-bury come if he wanna. I don't mind a' all, Nutella.”

“It seems as though Tiffin says you can come.” Nutella was doing her best to make Tiffin feel welcome.

“Okay lil Tiffy, I want to show you my fort where I can jump out at the people to scare them real bad,” Cadbury stated with all the enthusiasm expected from a buckling whose main goal in life is to derive amusement from the activities of others.

“Cadbury, it is 'badly' not 'real bad'. Grammar matters,” Meringue took pleasure waving her intellect over him.

“Meringue. You need to know when it is a good time to speak. You are not his mother,” Kitty said, embarrassed that her daughter was showing so little refinement despite months of royal tutoring.

“Oh, I'ma sho sorry, y'all. I prob'ly ben speaking all wrong, this whol' time. I really wanna speak right, I do.”

“Nutella, can lil Tiffy come with me to class when we have school this afternoon?” Cadbury pleaded.

“If she would like to, she may.”

“Whut's school?” The word 'school' apparently did not exist in Tiffin's vocabulary.

“The place where you have to learn stuff to make you a smart goat.” Cadbury explained.

“Well, I suppose that'll be fun. I never done nuthing like dat before.”

“My dear, you are welcome to come when we start. We have really small classroom sizes, so don't worry about being ignored,” Nutella did not want Tiffin to be worried about having to introduce herself to anyone else for a while.

“It won't be much different than the stuff your mother would have taught you. Just more challenging. Your mother did teach you something right?” Maybelle asked with a sniff.

“Yea my momma teached me stuff. Like howta jump offa a feed trough. An' how I need to always say stuff like please, an' thank ye. O' course, I ain't allowed to fo'get when people's is near to always be right an' gud to them. 'Cuz persons is about treatin' us righ'.”

“It seems as though your mother has done a good job teaching you about manners, I am sure she is very proud.” Nutella tried to give her as much support as she could.

“Yay! Lil Tiffy will be coming to school with me! Oh, Tiffin this will be fun!” It was funny to see the little Bury-bury so happy.

That day they didn't get to have class, because showing Tiffin everything on the homestead took precedence over all other activities. However, the next day they enrolled her in their education system and Nutella had her start at the very beginning, which is a very good place to start.  

It was the start of another story time on the farm. Just before the bedtime of the little goats and the baby chickens (because the mothers don't like them up too late). Farmer P. had started the fire with some old newspapers, and was attempting to smoke an opossum skin that the youngest farmer had prepared. The schedule for the evening began with a story from each of the animals species: Uffie was the designated storyteller for the chickens, Bubble had promised to tell a story on behalf of the pigs, Sunset (our heifer) was considering if she should participate, and Nutella was excited at the thought of telling a tale, and thus earning respect of her new herd. When the fire was just right, and the smell of slightly burnt opossum skin hung in the air the ceremony began.

Uffie clucked a couple times to clear her crop, then started:

“Once Upon a Time, there lived six guinea keets. Each one of these guineas had a special power. The first could fly into trees, the second could camouflage into any---”

Bubble then solemnly asked for silence, gave a speech about enjoying the quaint story Uffie told, and then decided to begin her story:

“In the dark days of winter, a heavy frost hung upon the ground. It was blistering cold, and the poor humans, in their thin skin had to continue to do chores. Even in the winter they had to feed the---”

“Is is over yet?” the baby chicken Snuffie asked.

“Yes, yes, I am sure that Bubble is done now.” Maybelle replied.

Sunset blushed, for it was her turn, and asked if she might go last. Supposedly, it was because she 'wasn't ready yet' (however, I think it is because Sunset knows that only the last animal ever gets to finish their story). Nutella was excited to tell her story and was alright going out of turn. This is the story she told:

“There once was a rabbit, that loved to run around the woods. And this rabbit loved trying to make friends. She liked to meet the ducks, and the deer, and the foxes, and one day---”

“I love it!” exclaimed little Meringue.

“But I haven't finished yet.” Nutella said, acting puzzled.

“Aw, that's alright, it was good anyway.” Passamaquoddy told her.

“Next week you can add a little more to it.” Squeak explained.

“You see, that way all the animals can say a bit before bedtime.” Bonnie finished for Squeak.

After Nutella had completed her story, Sunset thought that she would tell an action story, and because she has time to think while she chews her cud, it was rather elaborate (I have formatted it with Sunset's distinct accent, and took time to explain some of her actions while reciting):

“The mountain looooms
Above the pasture,
Holding it in a shadoooow
Keeping light fromoo entering
The stalls and rooooms.

(She lightly moo'd as reciting poetry without moo'ing is very difficult for her.)

The top of the hill,
Nooo one can glimpse.
It's height immooonse,
No one dare climb
Tooo face peril.

But a foooolish bison,
Dares a small
Cow to challenge
A mooonster huge,
The Lion. (This moo was more of a growl.)

[And the poem went on and on and on... (you can read the full text at the bottom of the page)]

Sunset finished her story, and looked around to see that most everyone was already headed to bed. But she wasn't upset, because the humans stuck around, and that is how she knew that she had told a good story. Before she headed to bed herself, she sneaked a midnight snack of Alfalfa, for talking had made her hungry. She spent the rest of the night contemplating about what sort of story she would tell next time the humans built a fire. Then she went to sleep, and dreamed about having an entire field of 'Alfoofa' to herself. Meanwhile, the humans went to bed themselves, thought about the morning when the alarms would go off, and it would be time to begin the chores.

[For those who don't know who all the characters listed in this story, they are:

Farmer P. - This is the head farmer, we like him because he moves hay.
Opossum – This is possibly the animal that hurt Drip's (another duck) foot a while back. Now a ghost.
“The youngest farmer” (a.k.a. Farmer T.) - This is the farmer that attempted to raise rabbits, we like him because he kills the predators (that would otherwise kill my chickens).
Uffie – This is the daftest chicken on our farm, and we love her.  She is also the WKH mascot.
Bubble – This is the pig that likes to make noise.
Sunset – She is a red dexter heifer. She thinks that Farmer E. is her best friend.
Nutella – This is our milking goat, and the newest addition to the farm.
Guineas – We had six, but now there are only five.
Snuffie – It's just 's not Uffie. But I like the little one anyway.
Cookie – This is a golden-laced cochin bantam chicken.
Maybelle – This is our high-maintenance queen goat. For reference: she doesn't like me much.
Meringue – The very first little princess goat born on our farm.
Passamaquoddy – A magpie drake. He is still on his quest to find a dragon.
Squeak – The best piggy friend of Bubbles. She likes people.
Bonnie – Our new farm puppy. She likes to find dead things.

Remember: These are quick summaries. You may see these animals featured in other stories.]

Below is the full poem that Sunset told [including the 'moo' accents]:

The Stoory of the Brave Moo-Moo

“The mountain looooms
Above the pasture,
Holding it in a shadoooow
Keeping light fromoo entering
The stalls and rooooms.

(She lightly moo'd as reciting poetry without moo'ing is very difficult for her.)

The top of the hill,
Nooo one can glimpse.
It's height immooonse,
No one dare climb
Tooo face peril.

But a foooolish bison,
Dares a small
Cow to challenge
A mooonster huge,
The Lion. (This moo was more of a growl.)

She takes a spear,
Her halter,
With hay,
Leaves her hooome
With many a tear.

In the cold
Of the mooountain
She shakes,
The sun she spies
So close to hooold.

It shines smoo bright
That for a moooinute
She is blinded.
The beast, hooodden
Strikes with all it's might.

Comes charging at our heroooooo,
The fearsome lion.
With claws flying,
And teeth clashing
Is an awful fooooe.

(She took a break, and caught her breath here. Moo'ing softly before continuing.)

But the brave hooofer
(With her halter)
Strikes back
Althooough strength
Is failing, she says

Moooooooooo.
Making a stooomp
Hits the flesh
Ooof the beast,
(Her halter askooow).

The lion falls
His yellooow coat
Is soaked in blooood
Of cooow and mooonster,
And lay with curled claws.

The heifer cannooot
Believe. She killed
The lion, that scared
All. She cooooked sooome
Hay on the spooot.

(Not sure if this was part of the poem, but a large, loud, elongated MOOOO was heard around WKH.)

Toooday, a farm-
Hooose is built
Where the
Dooel took place.
Here no animool is harmed.

There is now clover (She licked her nose thinking of delicious clover and Alfooofas.)
Here. Further oop
The hill, sooome goats
Have tooo,
Taken over.

The height of the
Mooontain is
Shrunk. The sun
Is seen frooom the
Town belooow.

Cooorn grows
In fields, for the
Sun shines.
In the distance
Yoooo can hear the
Rooooster's croooow.

And the sun
Sees the heifer
In the mooorning, and
Bestooows a kiss.
Mooooo.”

Sunset licking a salt block.

Sometimes at a later point I will question the sanity of certain decisions and actions of mine.  Here are some examples:

1) We had received our first lot of chickens in the mail.  It was a new experience for all of us.  Everything was going quite well until one chick got sick.  The invalid was Fluffy, one of the buff silkies (the other was Buffy).  She had crookneck (neck goes all twisted and strange), water on the brain (a little kooky), and constipation (not going poop without assistance-don’t ask).  So we took care of her.  Somehow we must have gone a little kooky ourselves, because we had assumed that if she not only came inside but slept on my bed, Fluffy would have a faster and more wholesome recovery.  For a few nights she slept on my bed (something I’m not proud of), with my dog, Crumpet.  In the end, she got so sick I had to cull her (using my mother’s best kitchen knife).  Reflecting on this past experience, I think there might have been some better solutions.

2) When we first got the goats, they escaped.  No real big surprise here, but it was in the night so it was very dark.  With no clear idea of where they might be, our search began a little off course.  Pretty soon we heard the neighbor’s dog bark.  We rushed over to investigate, where we found our two newly acquired goats cornered nearby a barn, with the farm guard dog keeping them paralyzed with fear.  There was nothing else to do but to make friends with this huge barking dog (as the owner wasn’t home), so I talked in my best puppy dog voice and inched over to my goats.  I grabbed Maybelle, and my mom grabbed Kitty, and we dragged, carried, pulled and pushed them all the way home.  Lesson learned: guard dogs are good for cornering goats and like being talked to as though they are still a puppy.

3) Some of you may not know this, but we own a heifer (not a cow).  One day she will have the noble job of milk production for our family, but for the moment she is just really big, mobile, yard art.  Although she doesn’t do much more than eat all day, she is quite happy to play games every once in a while.  One of her favorites is tag.  You run, she chases.  Sometimes I wonder if people driving by think I am being chased by a wild bovine.  

4) “Breeding like rabbits.”  We used to rely on that saying.  Not anymore.  For a long time we wanted baby bunnies.  Anything with lop ears.  Cute, sweet, grass-eating, fluffy, huge eyes that stare deep into your soul, multiple colors, that will soon have cute miniature versions of itself.  This is not our experience.  Our bunnies were biting, clawing, peeing-on-everything, spaced out little monsters.  Most of them are now dead.  First rabbit’s demise was caused by a wild dog.  Second rabbit’s cessation was all thanks to an infected ear infection and my brother’s .243 rifle.  Third rabbits termination was by some predator that we are not sure of yet, suffice to say, it has never returned.  Fourth rabbit’s annihilation can be attributed to stupidity, both of the car driver and the bunny that stepped foot in the highway.  Not one of them ever had any offspring.  We are currently left with a miniature, male, Holland lop that we rescued from the stew-pot off of someone who posted something on Craigslist.  Another piece of mobile yard art for our collection.

5) This is another Uffie story.  Our crazed little girl, who was raised in a closet for most of her childhood, and who also needs therapy sessions every week decided to go broody.  In all her infinite wisdom, she perceived that Christmas Day would be a great time to start sitting on eggs.  Brilliant for us.  So she hatched some babies in January.  One froze to the water trough.  This was the only one we cared about.  So sad.  Overcome with despair Uffie just about gave up on her attempt to raise the chicks.  Thankfully, Cookie stepped in.  She mothered the lot as though she had hatched them herself.  If not they probably would have died.  And now there are four chickens showing up at the therapy sessions.

6) Here is a short story about the oinkers.  We look at them.  We go home.  We make them a home to sleep in.  We go buy them.  We go buy milk replacer (their mother had died).  We drive home.  We have our ear drums blasted out by their squealing.  We take some headache relief medicine.  We wait for months in gleeful anticipation for bacon.

 7) Yesterday, we saw one of the ducks limping.  Just to make sure nothing was wrong (we can always hope), we ran it down and immediately noticed that its leg was wounded. Our poor little Drip comes inside.  Using a white rag, we wipe off her leg and foot, simultaneously making the presumption that she had been attacked by a predator (they are the cause of most of my troubles).  So we brought her in the house and gave her spa treatment (i.e. splash around in our bathtub), gave her luxury food (dandelions, grass, leaves), put her in her own suite (the stock tank/brooder), and she has access to an all you can eat buffet of her favorite food. Despite all this care and attention (and potentially saving her life) she hates me.  Alas, I was hoping this inconvenience of mine would strengthen our relationship and bring us closer together.

8) Pancakes and raw meat have something in common.  Can you guess what it is?  No.  Didn’t think so.  Both of these are foods that Bonnie (our puppy) will jump on the table or countertop to snatch.  What about goat poop and feathers?  No, you couldn’t figure that one out either?  These are things that Bonnie will always chew no matter how many times we tell her otherwise.  Dreadlocks and ticks?  Of course you didn’t get that one.  Bonnie gives both of these things to our three other dogs.  Last one.  What about bunnies and ducks?  I’ll just tell you.  These are the animals that Bonnie has the most fun ‘herding’.  Summary is that Bonnie is capable of making connections between anything. 

These are only a few of the Farminsanity moments.  More have happened, more to come. 

“Let me go! Let me go!” It was a wail, a holler of complete distress. “Please, I beg of you, let me go!” No matter how much noise she made, the captor continued to pull and half drag the unfortunate Kitty across the field. “My poor little babe! What shall happen to Meringue?” One of the captors quickly showed the hollering goat doe her wee little lass. She continued to scream. The two terrorists did everything they could to quiet her down, but not even oats would work. 

“How dare you! You ...“she stammered, “I thought of all people you would be my friend. I trusted you.” The doe resisted being dragged further, but the humans were too strong. She demanded that they let her go, she pleaded for them to let her have rest, she groveled for them to bring her back to her pen, but the captors continued to ignore her cries.

They tied her up in a green pasture that was lacking a fence, that had trees and weeds and berries and so many other good things, but Kitty knew that all these were meant to torment her. Kitty knew that these two humans only wanted to keep her quiet long enough, so that no one would know her whereabouts. Kitty remembered that if you ever find yourself caught, you must make lots of noise. She did her best and let out a banshee cry. Then she paused for a second, getting ready to make another yell, but she heard her two captors talking quietly with each other. 

“I told you she would holler if you didn’t bring Maybelle along.”

“Yes, but you know how strong and smart Maybelle is, she would probably eat whatever we tied her to, and then we would have to catch her."

“Hmmm. Quite. That would be a bit of a problem then, if she escaped.”

“Exactly, you remember how much she hates being tied up.”

“Then do we let her scream?” The captor known as Farmer R. pointed to Kitty.

“I suppose that is the only thing for it, but I must say, I thought having Meringue beside her would calm her down a bit.”

“You thought, but it didn’t work.”

Kitty again let out a noise that would have startled a lion should one have heard her.

Now, the humans left. A short time later, one returned with a bucket of water, and showed Kitty that it did indeed contain water. “How dare you think that I am so simple that you could get away with poisoning my water?” she screamed again. “And how dare you kidnap the daughter of Queen Maybelle (for she is queen now after her coronation), and the granddaughter of the queen as well?” Then she said with an air of authority, “If you should but let me go, I am sure that my mother would be quite happy to pay the ransom.”

Farmer R. spoke up. “You think we are keeping you for ransom? Silly thing, I just brought you here so that you would have lots of fresh weeds and things to eat.”

A long and piercing shriek came out of Kitty. “How foolish you must think I am, if you suppose that I can be so easily tricked into thinking that I have not been kidnapped, when I have most certainly been treated with such discourtesy, that I realize can only mean that I have been kidnapped.”

Princess Kitty’s wails, cries, pleas, begs and all other manner of loud noises proceeded from deep within her vocal chords. Meringue at this point fell asleep to escape such awful sounds. She lay there curled in a ball on a fresh lot of soft grassy stuff dreaming about playing on pallets with Eclair. Farmer R. got up off her tuffet, a patch of grass at the base of a tree, and walked away.

Kitty rejoiced. Her walking away could only mean one thing. She was going to ask her mother to pay the ransom. She thought about this for a bit. After some calculating, she decided that she would probably be worth a hundred yellow flowers or fifty mouthfuls of barley. Her mother would easily be able to pay such a sum, because they keep a very full treasury of stores in case a disaster like this should occur. Soon Farmer R. returned. 

“Do I get to go free?” asked Kitty. “I am sure my mother wishes to have me released without further delay.” Without a word, Farmer R. plopped a chair on the ground and sat down. She placed a glass with water in a cup holder and pulled out three books. “Which would you prefer to hear?” Farmer R. asked. Kitty was determined not to be so easily won over, and sniffed at the three books and walked as far away as she could, but she was tied down, so she ended up only a hundred feet or so away.

Farmer R. poked Meringue and coaxed her into waking. Kitty saw her touching her child and panicked. Running back over to where Meringue was, she had to make sure that the petting and pats from Farmer R. left no mark or smell that could show, even to a very well trained nose, that a human had ever touched her precious Meringue. The human looked at the three books in her lap and decided to start reading aloud a hardcover book that had a wolf-looking thing on the front. She began, “The Call of the Wild by Jack London.”

Kitty wished she could cover her ears with her hoofs in the same way she saw the humans do with their hands, when they did not wish to hear something. She realized that this special ability belonged solely to humans (and something called a monkey). Thus, she had no choice but to listen to “And over this great demesne Buck ruled. Here he was born.” Kitty scowled, thinking how she used to live among the place that she was born. She thought, I never had to put up with being kidnapped and placed on a lead around super green grass. She took another look at the grass.

When she was quite certain that no human from near or afar was looking, she bit off a huge mouthful of delectable greens. Farmer R. had just finished a paragraph of the book, and looked to see if Meringue was enjoying the story. She saw Kitty eating the grass, and Kitty spat out the grass as though it were some foul, bitter thing. Her captor continued to read her story about a sweet dog changed by a series of actions, which finally led him to kill for his own food. She read “The End” and looked up. 

Looking at the sky, it was getting late. Kitty figured that Farmer R. would soon be making camp in a place where nobody would be able to find them. She was right. That human untied her and started to drag her around again. However, Kitty was not going anywhere without a fight. She sat down, so that she had to be practically carried for at least ten feet. Kitty finally managed to comprehend that she was beaten.

Therefore, she reluctantly followed Farmer R. There was not anything else for it. She was either going to get many grass stains on her beautiful coat or have a sore neck and head. Kitty had made up her mind that she did not like halters. The way that they were walking seemed familiar to Kitty, but she did not know where they were heading. It was a treacherous journey. They passed a wire that could fry a bug if it touched it, and the propane tank that looked like a beached whale. All these difficult obstacles were easy to avoid compared to THE SWAMP.

The swamp is a terrible evil that makes itself known after a rain storm. It is a low part in the cow pasture where water collects. Among the goats, they considered it something that you should avoid at all times. If you step in it, the drowned bugs of many years past will look up from the water and steal your soul. When this happens, you get a cold feeling on your hoof (or foot), as though you had stepped in snow. Right through this horrid swamp, Kitty, Meringue and their captors walked.

The stories they told before bed on a thundering night brought all their horror back to Kitty. She kept her eyes fixed closely upon the ground. This is why it was quite a surprise when she almost bumped into the gate to the goat pasture. “Mother! Mother!” Kitty cried. “I am here. Mother, turn around!” Maybelle turned around and bounded over to Kitty and Meringue. The gate was opened, and the goat family was reunited. 

THE END!

Everyone knows that chickens talk a lot. But most people don’t know what they are saying. I happen to be very fluent in Cluckish (the official language of chickens), so I am able to tell you something I heard the other day. It was late at night, and I heard lots of peeping coming from the coop. It was all the little chickies clamoring for their bedtime story.

“Please, can you tell the one about the Lost Egg?” one little voice cried.

And another said, “No, no, no, tell my favorite about the Masked Coon!”

Said a third, “Your favorite was told last time. I want to hear about the Red Light of Mraf!”

Then I heard a squawk from Uffie that really doesn’t have any word in English that its meaning corresponds to exactly, but it is generally agreed to imply “SHUSH!!” (Notice the double exclamation point.) There was absolute silence, for the chicks generally listen to Uffie, and all of them respect her immensely, especially after her recent promotion to Farm Mascot. She told them very clearly that she would tell them a story none of them had heard before, and that she would be grateful for no interruptions, because as no one had heard this particular story before, there was no need for anybody to speak while she was talking.

Here is the story she told:

“ONCE UPON A TIME, there was a royal family of goats. And all these goats lived in the same area. There were brothers and sisters, and cousins, and aunts and uncles, and mothers and fathers, and grandmothers and grandfathers, and all other relations that you could think of. And this family was very happy. They had humans who looked after them, feeding them hay and alfalfa, giving them fresh grass and weeds, and who were very good to them. Eventually though, there were so many relatives living in the same area that all of them couldn’t stay, so they began advertising around, looking for new accommodations.”

There was a shout, and one chick piped up, “Miss Uffie, what’s accommodations?”

Uffie grumbled, and said, “It means a home, a place to live, somewhere nice, like this coop.”

“Oooh,” the chick peeped, and an amazed wonderment went around the coop, with everyone wondering how Uffie could be so smart.

“Let me continue my story,” Uffie stated.

“So there were all these goats looking for a new place to live, because it was decided that only those who held the title of King or Queen could stay. Around this time, a vacancy opened up on a newly purchased farm, because one of the farmers couldn’t be happy with just chickens, and felt that she should branch out into a broader group of beasts. This person, we will call her Rosie, took a look at the goats, because the farmer who owned the land the goats lived on was her friend, and thought that she would like one of them. Then Farmer Rosie was worried that the single goat she had picked out would be lonely, and inquired about a friend for the goat.

“Farmer Rosie’s goat of choice was named Kitty. Kitty’s father, a King, was staying at the castle, and had to keep the kingdom running smoothly. Unfortuantely, Kitty had no brothers or sisters, and the only other goat realtive was her mother. Farmer Rosie, a humane farmer, thought the best thing would be for Kitty and her mother, Princess Maybelle, to stay together. One evening, Kitty and Maybelle said ‘Goodbye’ to all their friends and family, and stepped into Farmer Rosie’s personal carriage, and with much protest left the only home they had known.”

I heard a deep voice then speak, which was definitely Oreo’s, our rooster. He asked, “What model was it?”

Uffie, in her confusion, said, “The model of what? Farms don’t follow any particular formula.”

A sigh of disgust came from Oreo. “No, I didn’t mean that, I was curious what make was the carriage?”

Now, Uffie was no longer uncertain of herself and stated, “The best, it was a big, American-made, shiny, black truck with lots of horsepower.”

At this point I heard a low whistle break out of one of the hens, most likely Snowflake (as though she had never seen one or rode in one herself before, and as though it was a very impressive feat).

“If there will be no more questions, I shall continue,” Uffie remarked with a tone of slight annoyance.

“When they arrived at their new residence, it was night and they were tired, so the two goats slept. But in the morning the complaints began.

‘I liked the old fence, it was prettier.’

‘Our castle was nicer, this blue is hideous.’

‘How dare those humans think they can keep us in here.’

‘These oats taste funny.’

‘This water smells different.’

‘How do they ever expect us to sleep with all these cars going by?’

‘I don’t like these weeds.’

“And the biggest complaint of all, ‘It is not like how our old home was.’ So these goats found their opportunity to run away that very day. It was very fortunate for Farmer Rosie that the local farm dog found them and cornered them before they got too far away. So that night they were dragged, carried and pushed back to their new home, and locked in their ‘hideous blue’ house for the remainder of the night. In the morning, they were as grumpy as ever and began complaining how awful those humans were for locking them up. It seemed that for the first week all they did was complain.

“But something strange happened. The humans were persistent. Farmer Rosie petted them every day, and gave them oats in a magical purple bucket. Their blue cottage collected enough straw so that it began to feel cozy. Of course, the big change came when the grasses started to wither. Because then the humans didn’t just bring them oats, they also brought something better. It was the Mystical Grasses of Nom-Nom (also called Alfalfa by humans). These grasses are very special to goats, so the fact that Farmer Rosie brought some was considered a gift of a great price.

“By the time February rolled around, Kitty had really warmed up to Rosie. She would play with Rosie and follow her, so as you can understand they were really good friends. And one day when Farmer Rosie was heading up to play with the goats, she walked into the pen, and there was Kitty, but something strange had happened. It wasn’t just Kitty, it was Kitty with a little, fluffy, wet, white thing. At least that is what it looked like to an untrained eye, but my dear chicks, your Uffie isn’t an ordinary chicken, because I knew that it was (what is known as) a kid.

“So when Farmer Rosie managed to figure out what yours truly knew already, a huge smile began to spread across her face. I am telling you, if she smiled any wider her head would have fallen off. Then quick as lightning she ran back to the house, and returned with her human mom friend, and a red bag. When she reached the goat pen again, she walked over to the kid and wiped it off with a towel she pulled out of the red bag. And then she dipped the new princess’ (yes, it was a girl) hoofs in a special mixture that turned its feet yellow. Then Rosie petted Kitty and gave her a treat or two, then proceeded to pick up the baby.

“It did not take long for the new kid to have a name. She was given the name Meringue, due to the white color she had and the light hint of brown on her head that added a caramelized color. Meringue is a happy little goat, and is pampered every day. Farmer Rosie is so proud that you would think it was hers. And as far as I can tell, all the goats are going to live happily ever after. THE END.”

Oreo then asked for complete silence, because it was now dark, and thus past their bedtime. As everyone was closing their eyes to get to sleep, one small tired voice asked, “Will I ever see Meringue and Kitty?” Uffie replied, “All you have to do is look out across the field to where the sun sets, and you will see the blue cottage where they live. If you look close enough, you should see Princess Kitty and Meringue.”

As Uffie finished her story, I couldn’t help but smile to myself, because I had just seen Meringue myself, and I agreed on the pampered part. But I was also wondering how long until Maybelle has her baby. And what kind of story Uffie will tell about that. Then I finished up the chores (with my ‘human mom friend’) for the evening, and went inside to eat my dinner.

We had a sick goat on our hands this week. I mean really sick, like I-have-to-call-the-vet-but-don’t-really-want-to-because-it’s-going-cost-a-fortune-sick!

It all started Saturday morning when I checked on the little darlings. I noticed that Esme’s hind legs and tail were soaked. I looked around and noticed a large wet spot on the floor, it didn’t look like diarrhea but you never know with goats. I figured she just ate too much grass and had diarrhea. I left her in the barn for the day and didn’t think much more about it.

Sunday morning when I checked on the critters I noticed spots of blood on the floor. I looked at her bum and noticed blood coming out of her vagina. Now was the time to panic! But she was acting normal, eating normal, and I checked her temp and that was normal. I was completely confused. So Dave and I gave her a shot of Pen-G (penicillin) as a precaution. Needless to say, she was not amused to have a needle in the back of her leg. I still kept her in for the day and kept a close eye on her. What I was afraid of also, was it contagious?

Monday I called the vet in Middleton, since they specialize in goats. They were baffled. We talked for awhile trying to figure out what was the problem, but to no avail. The only thing they could figure out was maybe she had a varicose vein in her vaginal wall that had busted and it was bleeding. It would rectify itself. They had never seen it in goats, only in horses, but anything is possible. So she told me to deworm her and give her the Pen-G for a few more days and keep a close eye on her. Then 5 minutes later the vet called me back and said, “I was thinking more about this and even though this usually just happens in Oct or Nov, Esme might be having a pseudo-pregnancy. She’s young and confused so she might have thought that she was pregnant. They usually have alot of mucous that discharges when they think they should give birth then have bleeding for a few days.”

So my goat thinks she was preggers! What next. I checked her tonight and no blood. Completely clean. Hopefully it stays that way.

So, the rest of the week involved fishing for the first time this season. We all went to a river not far from our house. We each caught a pickeral. We are a catch and release kinda family, so off they went back into the river.

Monday afternoon I cleaned out the greenhouse again and planted my tomatoes. I’m hoping it won’t get too cold at night. It’s been pretty hot the last few weeks.

The blackflies are out with a vengeance. They are hungry and plentiful. The mosquitoes shouldn’t be too far off. Shudder...

Sunday I actually had a few minutes (very few) to sit in my favourite spot.

It’s been so dry that our little pond is going dry and my poor little tadpoles are getting a smaller, very smaller little pool.

Since it’s spring our very plentiful poplar trees are leaving little cling-ons everywhere. You can’t get rid of the darn things! And they stain the clothes also. The cats are not happy with them either. Febe has some all over her beard and Shadow has some all over his butt. The photo doesn’t do Shadow’s cling-ons justice.

This ugly part of the old barn used to be the pig pen. Needless to say it is full of nice composted pig poop! Lots of it. So we (Dave) are going to clean it up and it’s going to become my pumpkin patch for my giant pumpkins!! Imagine the big pumpkins that will evolve from that poop! Ohhhhh yeaaaah.

When you think you’ve seen everything on a farm, you see something else that makes you go “hmmmmm.” A few days ago I went into the chicken coop to gather the eggs. The two roosters had kicked out the hens and were sleeping together in the nest. No, no, don’t even go there.

Well, have a blessed day!

Lisa

This blog should be entitled: The Last Two Weeks in Photos.

It started with a beautiful rainbow. Isn't this picture so inspirational with the Irving propane truck in the foreground. tee hee

Well once again its the case of "never say never." Words have alot of calories. That's why I don't seem to be able to lose any weight. I keep eating my words. Sigh...

I always said that we would never, ever get a trampoline for J. Well, Dave found a near new trampoline in the local paper for next to nothing. Sooooo, here it is. We are having a blast with it.

The weather is holding out. It's been just beautiful. Some days are a bit chilly, but mostly sunny. The problem like I mentioned in my last post is that we are not getting any amounts of rain. Not good. By now my garden has a few inches of water between the rows. At the moment, it's almost dust. Not good. But my garlic is doing wonderful

My rhubarb almost didn't make it. Dave didn't realize it was there and tilled the garden. Uh oh! This is all I have left of it.

The goats are doing well. They all go outside together now. Esme is terrorizing Cindi Lou. Febe is terrorizing Esme, but most of the time protecting Cindi Lou. My dilemma now is should I get rid of Esme or Febe. I was going to get rid of Febe since she's not very nice with J. But ... she gets along with everyone except Esme. Esme on the other hand doesn't get along with Febe or Cindi Lou. Even J. would rather me get rid of Esme than Febe. His opinion is ...

"Mum, Febe is a good mother and milker, you don't know what you're going to get with Esme. I like Esme, but you sometimes have to think about the big picture. I can always stay out of Febe's way. But she is getting nicer to me."

My child is wise beyond his 9 years.

We are going to band one of the boys. It's a buck year. Everyone has had bucklings. Not a good thing. It's hard to sell them. I really hate to think that they would go for meat, but ...

Last night I separated Mike and Arthur from their mom, so I can get some milk in the morning. It didn't go so well. There was whole lot of blatting going on. But this morning everyone seemed happy and I had 2 litres of milk! Which I am drinking now. Ahhh! It's so good.

I have been trying to take photos of the kids, but it's hard to take a nice photo of flying objects! I love this photo. Look at Mike's legs. He is just flying. (Ignore the junk in the background).

Cindi Lou had little scabs all over her body. We have no clue why. I even called the vet and they have no clue why. So I've treated her with Cy-Lence and everyone else for that matter in case it's a case of lice or mites. It seems like it's doing better. It's against my religion to drink, but these goats are working hard to drive me to it!

Otis is doing well. He likes to stick his tongue out at us. He's going to the big pasture up the road in a few weeks. His hair loss is doing better. We treated him with Cy-Lence and it seems like it did the trick. We have a different problem now. Dave got the farmer up the road to come and castrate him because we were told that he hadn't been pinched where we got him. So Herbie, the farmer came to do it (and he's done it many, many times.) He can't find "them" to pinch "them". Hmmm ... strange.

The following photo is the perfect reason why you should plant your veggies in the greenhouse within a few days of cleaning it out. Not cleaning out your greenhouse and waiting a few weeks to plant your veggies!

This is called doing your work twice!!! I swear ... I'll never learn. I thought I was getting a jump on the year. I guess not!

Most of the pigs are gone. Only one left. He was supposed to leave at the same time as the others, but the guy's car broke down on the way, so he's coming Tuesday. If he stays here any longer Dave is charging him boarding fees which is normal.

Two of our young chickens have died yesterday and today. One from being picked to death and the other, we aren't sure why. Chickens are evil things. I hope we don't lose anymore. The two we did lose were pullets. Crud.

Last week was Stampede Day at our place. Who needs the Calgary Stampede when you have goats!

I needed to get Cindi Lou out of the pasture to feed her. So I just opened the gate a bit and Febe stuck her nose through. I grabbed her collar, but at the same time Esme tried to sneak out also. So I grabbed her collar too. (Do you see where this is going?) For a split second I had control of the situation. Then my foot got caught in a tree root. There I go being dragged around for a few seconds (felt like minutes) on the ground by two goats before I realize, "Let go, stupid dummy!" All this time, Dave and a visitor are watching me thinking, "What is she doing?"

Never a dull moment.

Yesterday J. and I painted the barn, well one side of it. Then we ran out of paint. Then he painted his tree fort.

Tomorrow I have the entire day planned:

-get chicken feed 
-do banking
-clean sheet day
-clean (and I mean scrub on my knees kinda clean) the kitchen floor
-paint the french door in the kitchen
-clean the goat pen
-make supper so we can eat for 4:30 so we can go to massage and drum lessons
-go fishing with J. after school.

Phew ... I think that's it! Dave asked what I was going to do in the afternoon after I've done this list.

Well I think that's it for this post. Have a blessed day!

Lisa

Well, where to start.

All is well. Febe kidded last Thursday. She gave birth to identical twin boys! Not so happy. But the Lord gives us what the Lord gives us. We’ve decided that we are going to keep one and breed it to Cindi Lou Who and Esme. Maybe even Whisper.

We had the problem of trying to name the bucklings. Dave wanted to name them “This One” and “That One.” I found it cute but I really didn’t want to name them that. At work we have two older guys working with us. They are always pulling pranks and acting foolish. Sooooooo ... I want you to meet ... “This one Arthur” and “That one Mike.” Their official names will have Spring Peeper in front of their names.

I’m kinda worried for them. I don’t find that they are eating much. But they are looking healthy. They are getting bigger and playing and frolicking. It’s just that Febe’s udder is humunga bunga! I had to milk her yesterday, and I milked over 2 litres! And I wasn’t even done. But they must be finding milk somewhere.

I got home from an party a few hours ago and I noticed that the neighbour had a chimney fire going. The fire dept is still there. The strange thing was that she had no fire in the furnace. She just had the oil furnace going. Not good. I’ll have to ask Dave what went on. He’s in the fire dept.

April 14

Well I had to milk Febe again tonight. They are favouring one side. I got 2 litres on just one side. The poor girl was in misery. I called my goat lady and she said that I should milk her morning and night to keep her even and they’ll have enough throughout the day and night.

Cindi Lou went to school Monday. She did well and the kids loved her. They even got to feed her. She was so tired when I left that she fell asleep in my arms on the way to the car. But she’s becoming a little minx. She’s jumping on the milking stand now, while we aren’t there, then grabbing things off the upper shelves. She is growing like a weed. She’s eating some grain now, but she won’t drink out of the bucket so she’s still on the bottle. I had to put a bale of hay on the milking stand to stop her from jumping up.

Tonight (April 15) I milked Febe, and she hardly had any on both sides, so they must be keeping her even. That’s good. But she’s got a sore on her head. I think she goes under the feeder to clean up after them and she rubs her head. I hope that’s all it is. I’m telling ya, these goats are going to drive me to drink. And I don’t drink! This morning I had so much on my mind, I got to work and I thought, “Oh Crud!! I left Febe on the milking stand!” So I call our neighbour in a panic and he went to check. No, I hadn’t left her on the stand. I need to get back in the groove of things. Is there ever a groove?

Monday we treated ourselves to lobster. It was good! We had enough for 2 meals. At $4.75 a pound, that’s pretty good. It was actually cheaper than eating in a restaurant.

The chicks have been moved to a larger place. I think they doubled in size overnight. Otis the calf is doing well. His fur stopped coming out. He’s off the bottle (that sounds strange) and drinking water. Soon he’ll be going to the big pasture up the road.

This coming Saturday is pig day! Everyone is coming to get their piggies. That’ll be nice. We are keeping 2 for ourselves for meat this fall.

Ok, that’s enough. I have to publish this post. It’s been sitting around long enough.

Have a blessed day!

Busy, busy, busy! It never stops. I sometimes just want to sleep and not wake up for a few weeks. That, I think would be bliss. But life goes on and the world is not going to stop to let me off anytime soon.

Well first things first. Happy Easter and our baby is now 9 years old. It seems like just yesterday that he was born. Boy I miss when he was a baby. He’s growing up too fast. Soon he’s going to graduate from high school! Oh well ... such is life.

Most of the farm animals are doing well. Except for our calf, Otis. Otis seems to be losing his fur at an alarming rate. Between his back legs he’s completely bald. It’s coming out in clumps. I’ve never seen such a thing. Mind you, this is only our second bull calf. We’ve asked several cattle farmers around here and they all say the same thing. “It’s normal.” Weird. Oh well. He’s eating well, still a sookie and looking normal otherwise. So we’ll leave it at that. If any of you have seen this before let me know.

We have a few new additions to the farm. We bought a few banty hens (like we didn’t have enough) from a friend. He didn’t want them anymore because he needed the room. Of the hens, 3 are just banties and one is a Millefleur and so is the rooster. That’s why Dave wanted them. They are kind of scraggly, but the feathers will grow back one day.

I’m having a dilemma. I’d love to let my hens run free but we have so many wild mink in the area that I don’t know if they’d survive or not. And also, will they lay in the house or am I going to have to go egg hunting on four acres of land everyday?

The piglets are doing extremely well. They should be ready to hit the road next week or so. We are keeping 2 for ourselves. Dave brought a piglet to the school in Yarmouth last week. A friend of ours teaches third grade, and they were reading Charlotte’s Web. She asked Dave if he could come in with a piglet. I don’t know who was more excited, the kids or our friend? Not one kid had ever seen a pig, and only two had seen hay before. Isn’t that sad. It’s not like we live in New York City. There’s farms everywhere around here.

We’ve come to another hard decision. We have to sell Febe. She’s a great milker, great mom and great goat, but she’s really, really bad with kids of the two legged variety. I cannot leave her alone with J. for a minute or she attacks him. This is not good. She’s a very aggressive goat, and I figure that she thinks he’s a small goat she can bully and she attacks him. Last summer she smacked him in the chest and sent him flying. This cannot happen again, and he loves the goats, he wants to help, but he can’t when she’s around, which is all the time since she’s the head goat.

So this winter when she’s dried off, I will put an ad in the paper to sell her. She was due to kid today but she’s late. I think it’ll be a few days still. They can be up to 5 days early or 5 days late.

So since we are going to sell Febe, I need another replacement. So without further ado let me introduce to ya’ll to ....Hazy Day Cindi Lou Who!

She came all the way from Sussex, New Brunswick. That’s an 8-hour drive from here. And no, I did not drive that far for her. I have a friend that goes to Bethany Bible College in Sussex. He was coming home for the weekend so he was nice enough to bring her along.

She was born March 25, 2010. She was in the CAE prevention program, so that means I have to bottle feed her. It’s fun, but alot of work. All the milk I had frozen in the freezer for myself is quickly dwindling down for her. Oh well. She is a sweetie.

Well, it’s Easter as I write this. The day our Lord and Saviour arose. We organized a breakfast at the church, and we had an early morning service. I had my parents over for supper and had rappie pie and I’m stuffed!

The Easter Bunny passed for J. and left lots of eggs outside for the hunt. The weather was great for it also. It’s been gorgeous for a week now. We are getting June weather in April. On the down side it’s extremely dry at the moment. It’s usually so wet now that we feel moldy. So, if it’s dry now, by August when it’s usually dry it’s going to be worse. That means no fires, no weinie roasting, nada, nothing, zip! We’ll just have to wait and see what the good Lord has in store for us.

Well I have to go and feed “the baby” and check on Febe.

Have a Blessed Day.

Sunday, February 28, 2010

Except for the mud and blackflies, I just love spring. It’s a time of birth and renewal.

Speaking of births, Charlotte gave birth to 11 little piglets yesterday. All by herself. See, they don’t need our help.

Dave left for work early that morning (so what else is new). He told me that she was going to farrow that day sometime since she was very antsy. J. and I had some errands to do, so we left for a few hours and when we got back, there were 11 little bundles of joy! They were all nursing contently. This morning though, it seems like there is one that won’t make it. He must just have been weak. I don’t dare go see in the barn. Dave will take care of that. Anyway. If he has passed, I can’t reach him anyhow, and there is no possible way I am going in there with her. Uh-uh. No way Jose! Not this chickie. If there is one thing I have learned in these last few seasons with the animals, it’s that pigs are extremely, excessively possessive mothers. Chickens, goats, cattle, etc., do not hold a candle to pigs. Mind you it’s different taking a little chick from a 3-pound mother, than taking a piglet from an almost 600-pound sow! Think about it, a pig is the only animal that we eat that given half a chance, would eat us back!

Well I got my seed order in the mail last week. I actually controlled myself. Phew! It was tough. Dave had already passed through it and marked off what he think we needed. It came to about 30 dollars. Then I went through...

The order came to 96 dollars. Egad! So I cut back on a few things. It came to 80 dollars. So I cut again. Everytime I cut something out, it’s like cutting off one of my fingers. Sigh! OK, well not really but I just want to grow everything! Needless to say I don’t have the time, money and land to grow all I want to grow. It’s just NOT FAIR! So then I cut again and the final total was 76 dollars.

It was a strange day all around. First Charlotte gave birth, then I figured I’d let the goats out for a few hours, since most of the snow is gone so that means I can get to the gate.

First I have to say that Febe and Whisper have never escaped. I don’t even have to put the fence on most of the time. Well guess what!? I can’t do that with the famous new escape artist, formerly known as Esme!

I put them in, stayed there for a while, then went in. As we were eating supper, I found that the “memmmm”s were getting kinda loud. I looked on the front lawn and there were 3 goats. Not good. Esme showed the other two how the escape. Nice of her.

But then Dave said, “ Didn’t you forget that the fence had let go on the other end of the pasture? That means that it’s shorted out somewhere.”

Oh.

So hubby and son fixed the fence and the goats stayed in. Fancy that! Amazing what seven strands of electric fence can do!

I fired up the incubator last week. It’s more than full – 53 eggs! I’m going for genetic diversification. Big words for a French Acadian woman! I really don’t know if it’s a real term. But it sounds good. Really, I’m incubating some of my hen’s eggs and two other friend’s eggs. Well not their eggs, but their hen’s eggs. Then I’ll have created a genetically diversified flock! Doesn’t it sound so professional and scientific?

March 2, 2010

Well I started this blog 2 days ago and I’m still not done. Time just flies by. I just can’t beleive how the hours pass by in a day. I need more time!

Yesterday started like a nice day. By evening things went from very good to very, very bad. Let’s just put it this way ... I’m fine but my car is not. After I dropped J. off at drum lessons, I figured I’d go get his birthday gift at Walmart. Well I made a left turn on a green light and got smucked in the rear passenger door. The guy was flying, but because I didn’t have a flashing green I’m in the wrong. They can’t prove he was speeding.

But when I looked to turn he was far enough away. So, I had more than enough time to make it. Guess not.

I don’t really want to talk about it anymore. Like Forrest Gump would say, “That’s all I have to say about that.”

Tonight Dave and I gave the piglets their go over. Within 5 days of birth, they need their iron shots, their wolf teeth cut and antibiotic shot. That’s all we do to them. They don’t like the dentistry but they don’t even peep when you give them their shots. I also took this year’s Christmas card photo while we had them away from mama.

Oh, on a sad note. That one piglet that I said looked like he wasn’t going to make it ... didn’t make it.

Well that’s about it for this time. Really it’s enough.

Have a Blessed Day.

Lisa

Ok, I just can’t stand it anymore. I mean, I love winter, the snow is gorgeous, it helps keep the house warmer, and it’s fun. But seriously, I can’t stand the cold anymore. Kyle’s truck has died, and we’ve spent too much time freezing in the sub-zero wind gusts trying to figure out why (more than likely something related to the cold). We’ve lost too many eggs to the frigid temperatures, and I’m sick of having to supplement feed with so much grain. Our kids need grass. I am ready for Spring!

I know yesterday was Groundhog Day ... and Phil has officially proclaimed six more weeks of winter ... but I’ve got a news flash: I DON’T CARE!! Mwah ha haaa (maniacal laugh inserted here)! Spring never comes early up here so even if he had forecasted an early spring, it wouldn’t apply to us folks up here in Northern VT anyways. Best case scenario: we won’t really see spring until May, we need get through mud-season first. Regardless, I’m determined to hurry this season along. It was a welcome guest, but it’s time to show it the door.

This past weekend, Kyle and I made a run to Gardener’s Supply Company, an awesome, employee-owned, local gardening supply store. We thought we’d grab some house plants (they’re having a sale: buy two, get one free), and while we were there we picked up a handful of seed packets to start inside the house. I was planning on just doing one big order on the High Mowing Seeds website, but I just couldn’t wait any longer. I’ll order the rest of our seeds online, probably later this month, but I wanted something in-hand to start right off. We came home with paste tomatoes, Ring-of-Fire hot peppers, basil, parsley, rosemary, and lavender. We also grabbed some Provider bush beans, Chamomile and Echinacea that we’ll start later next month.

I’m planning the garden a lot more than I did last year. I’m reading more about companion planting and non-tilling, non-weeding options. The garden was the biggest disappointment of last year. I make no claims that I am a good gardener – I’m actually pretty terrible at it. I’m more interested in animal husbandry, and I think it shows: my livestock is thriving. But it also shows in the garden: it’s always overrun by weeds, and I don’t harvest what little there is to harvest in time so some things end up going to seed (which I don’t realize until things start sprouting after we’ve turned everything under for the year).

We’ve also spent quite a bit of time working on our pig shelter. Its relatively large, too big really for the size the pigs will be when we buy them. So unless we really pack it with mulch hay these little piggies will probably spend the first month or two in the barn where it will be a little warmer. We’re planning on picking up the new additions to the farm this Saturday. I’m pretty excited about it. I know they’re going to be meat for our table, but until then they can till our garden and enjoy the dappled sunshine in the little grove behind our house. They will be happy, which makes me happy.

This is going to be a big, busy year. It will be the first time keeping bees and raising turkeys and pigs. It will be the first time our goats will kid, so it will be the first time bottle-feeding babies and milking goats. I’ve worked at a dairy before, so I’ve done the twice-a-day milking, but never in conjunction with raising so many other animals, gardening, and beekeeping. And of course, on top of that we’re still renovating our house and working full time jobs.

Do I feel overwelmed? Nope. Well, not yet, give it some time. Spring is rejuvenating after waking up from a long winter slumber. I’m ready to wake up. How about you?