Slow Learner = Jail Time

When I get home today I am going to see if the barrier I built yesterday to keep Anabel (the goat) from jumping the knee wall and getting into the hay stall. For three days, I have come home to the most mournful wailing and bawling. Now you know that Anabel is a Drama Queen of great talent. So, I really didn't give it much credit the first day. I thought she was letting me know that Dinner Is Late and that was it. When I got to the barn, I discovered that she was in the stall with the Mean Hen who is setting right now and that she wasn't happy. In fact, she felt very hot and that scared me terribly!

However, the second day, she was back in the stall, none the wiser for her experience, and the Mister was feeding her as I was coming home late. He made her stay in the stall until Everyone Else Had Eaten (Anabel is the alpha doe and Always Eats First) before he let her out. She wasn't happy, but that is the choice she made.

The third day, yeppers, guess who was in jail, yet again, and still unhappy? At this point, I think even the Mean Hen was over it as she fussed the whole time until I let Anabel out again. It was then that I decided I would have to create a barrier.

So, I cut a 2 x4 x6 the length of the stall and nailed it 12" from the knee wall top. Then, I cut a fence panel to fit over the opening, nailing it to the knee wall, the board, and the joists. Hollie, the cow, watched, amused. The goats, however, were not allowed to see the renovation until they had fed. Anabel, at last check this morning, was nudging and exploring it, looking for a hole, I am sure. I don't think she will find it.

And, if she does, the Mean Hen may have free reign on her. Trust me. Anabel will lose.

Cooking Goat

If I have to wrestle another naughty goat and end up with my back out, I will be needing some goat cookin' receipts.

Today I let the girls into the portable fence so they could graze on some fresh grass. Someone (Anabelle) lead the way to push the fence down.  And Someone (Anabelle) convinced the Other Goats that the Lady didn't care if they went out. Then, Someone (Anabelle) talked everyone into making a run for it when the Lady and the Mister came to get them in.

Ironically, Anabelle was the easiest to get in. She lives by her stomach and the though that we had a Special Feed Bucket Just For Her was enough to lead (read: drag her by the horns) to the barn. Not the other girls. After enticing them with feed for 30 minutes, we finally got Clara, Lucy, and a few of the babies in. Even Mary and Mia went in fairly easily, but they are dominated by their stomachs (like me).

The back injury came when I gathered up Lila, who had gone into the open milking parlor door to go back to the goat yard. Stupid Me. I bent wrong. And fell to my knees where I stayed until the Mister came to rescue me as I struggled with a wiggling goat wrapped in my arms.

Did the other goats have pity for the Lady? Not Charlie and Layla. No. Not them. They ran up and down the mountain for another 45 minutes before they were worn to a bone and "decided" to go to the milking parlor door to go in.

At one point the Mister asked me: "What do you want me to do?" I can only surmise that my crawling on the ground and crying made him think Something could be done for me...

"Get the gun," I replied.

"For who??"

"Me or the goats. Murder. Suicide. It is all the same right now. It will stop the pain..."

He shook his head and started up the hill again. What a guy...

So, we are now in agreement that the next escapee will be dinner. Plain and simple. Only problem is: I don't eat meat.... but I think maybe I could start...

E-S-C-A-P-E!

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.