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.

I wish to apologize that I have not written a blog post sooner. My excuse is rather simple, being that, I have had no time to dedicate to writing. So I shall do my best to summarize the most important event that has transpired since my last post. Right now I am rather tired, so please forgive that this is mostly devoid of humor.

This morning, I woke up convinced that what happened yesterday didn't really happen. I had completely, totally, utterly forgot that we had purchased a new addition. So I meandered downstairs at six a.m. to let my dog out, and when I casually looked over the beautiful landscape, I saw the brown blob. I say blob, because I had woken up about thirty seconds ago, and my vision remained blurry. Then it clicked. We really had purchased her, and I had to get dressed in a rush to take care of her.

24 hours earlier...

“If we got a milk goat then our milk expenses would decrease.” My mother was trying to persuade me that we should get another goat.

“I know that, but we don't have a stanchion or a place to quarantine a new goat. It would be impractical to look for one right now.” The inevitable rebuttal came: “Those are easy problems to fix, besides there is a really good deal on Craigslist for a milking nanny, she is a nubian.” When I had been considering adding another goat to our herd, I had really thought that the nubian breed would be the best choice, and my mom had not forgotten.

" Goat milk tastes funny.” That was my brother's reason why not to get a milking doe. Not sufficient enough according to mom, because you “will learn to like it”, even if you don't like it now. My father liked the idea of avoiding having to keep going out of his way to pick up milk every week, so there was not a chance that Timothy (my brother) and I could win this battle. Hoping that the person selling the nubian doe would be your average Craigslist seller (i.e. won't respond for days upon days, and when they do it is to tell you that what you are interested in has already been sold), I wrote a short sweet email just to simply ask if she was still available and if she is, might I call the seller to ask some questions about the doe. The seller replied within thirty minutes. I couldn't help but think 'Bah-Humbug'. 

Then I put together a list of questions that you should ask before looking at a goat and driving a very long distance. I thought that there was no way she could meet all the criteria. Confident of my own phone skills, I made the call to talk to the lady selling her.
“Why are you getting rid of the goat?” “The man who owns her had a stroke yesterday and can't get out of bed to milk her twice a day.” 

“Is she a registered nubian?” “No she isn't registered but both of her parents were.” 

“How many kids did she have?” “She had two kids a month ago.” 

My questions went on, and the answers were quite satisfying, so that there really wasn't anything bad about her that I could tell my mother to dissuade her from wanting to see the goat. Thus a trip was scheduled for the day, so that we would go and see the goat around noon.

When we went to see her, I did a quick inspection, deemed that she had need of a hoof trimming, had parasites, and was thin.

"Alright, load her up.” An inward groan on my part, then she was all packed up, and we were on our way. There wasn't anything seriously wrong with her, because we have hoof trimmers, lots of goat dewormer, and good pasture for her to get fat. Soon enough we were home.

If the state of health was not exactly perfect, her temperament was. She was fine being led around on a halter and leash, didn't mind meeting the chickens, and liked eating weeds.  She had no intention of fighting with the other goats, or making any attempts at escape.  Around the dinner table that night everyone was puzzled about what to call her. Since she is black and brown, sort of a hazelnut and chocolate, we called her Nutella.