Bringing in feed for the goats is seldom easy and never fun. We try to buy two weeks at a time, so we are hauling in 5 50-lb. sacks at a time. It becomes a match of wits as we struggle to bring IN the food while keeping the goats IN as well. Chalk it up to poor fence planning and not having an easy way to close off the back door of the milking parlor. We have to open the gate to get to the door. This is usually when the goats, in the guise of eating hay and watching the chickens, lay their plans to escape.
Today was no exception. I drove the Forester to the fence and backed up. Pulling my cart around, I unloaded the feed into the cart, only to discover that the handle had pulled loose. So, I was reduced to carrying the sacks from the car to the milking parlor. Fortunately, John came in just in time and he carried most of the bags for me. So my job was to "distract" the goats so that he could get in without being bushwacked.
While I was waylaying the bucks, the does, led by Mary, the roundest pygmy you have seen, made a break by pushing the gate open and heading for parts unknown. When I found them, they were having a leisurely meal of the duck's cracked corn. Mary had wiped out the bowl while Clara was trying to find a way into the cracked corn bag. Lucy had scooted to the space between the coop and the toolshed and was enjoying the geranuims in the window box. Mia was working her way into the turkey lot and Clarice was hiding behind the clothesline eating a delectable meal of goldenrod.
Frustrated, I began to take each one to the barn. After 20 minutes, everyone was where they should be, bellies full of what they most likely shouldn't have had, but at least they were in the fence. As I began to milk, I thought, "why didn't I just open the milking parlor door? They would have come right to the door."
Sometimes the goats are just smarter than I am.