Posted by Suzanne McMinn @ 1:05 am | Permalink
Daily Farmhouse Journal
Goats are such a hoot. They make me laugh every day. Nigerian Dwarfs are amazingly pet-like, in a barn animal kind of way. I handle mine a lot and I talk to them all day long from the porch, so they are becoming more friendly all the time. I toss them cookies over the railing sometimes. They are always interested when they see me.
Nutmeg is the cuddliest. She wasn’t real excited about being touched at first, but I’m priming her for being a good little milker next year so I’ve really focused on handling her. I pick her up a lot and snuggle her. She puts her head on my shoulder. Either she likes being cuddled or she’s just resigned to her fate.
She is the loudest of them all when she cries. I can tell their voices apart now, and hers is the most plaintive when she’s upset. Whiny little thing. I love, love, love my wee little Nutmeg. The other day, I heard her crying. Oddly near. I went out onto the porch and found this:
She’d gotten out of the goat yard somehow and she came to get me.
See all that beautiful green off my porch. I’m soaking in green right now because already there are flecks of gold in it and soon it will be gone.
Not sure how Nutmeg got out this time. We’re still trying to figure that out. At least she comes to get me……… I don’t think she really wants to be out.
So next thing I hear is Clover. Crying. I looked over the porch railing and see her hanging out in the night pen under the porch and I see the babies are in there with her. Okay. Nothing unusual. But she keeps crying. So finally I go down to see her, thinking maybe she just needs a scratch behind her ears or, you know, a cookie, and this is what I find:
She has, no kidding, somehow managed to tie herself up to the milkstand with the goat hobble. She’s self-hobbling!
Backing up a bit, this very morning, she had been extraordinarily difficult. For the first time since I got her properly hobbled and started reliably achieving a pint a day of milk from her, I had to walk away without a drop of milk. The slip knots in the hobble had come untied and I hadn’t been able to retie them correctly. She kicked out of them repeatedly and, near tears, I finally walked away, let the babies out, and let them milk her that morning.
Theory #1: She felt horribly guilty for being so mean to me that morning so she tied herself up.
Okay, okay, probably not. But she did, somehow, manage to tie herself up.
There was no one home but me.
She somehow accomplished this feat on her own. And she really wanted out of it. “Please?”
Okay. But-wait.
Did you see that?
I hope that wasn’t too scary. I told you there is something wrong with her tongue!!!
Meanwhile, the babies were totally ignoring their mama’s dilemma as they cavorted on the milkstand.
Once free, she couldn’t get the milkstand to herself. Kinda like how when a toddler goes to the bathroom with their mom.
Clover: “Calgon, take me away.”
Not to worry. Coco ran the babies out. By trying to lick their butts.
Then she insisted on drinking out of the same bucket as Clover at the same time.
And chasing Nutmeg around the yard.
She’s very popular. Which explains why she only ever sees the goats this way, in butt view, as they are running away from her.
I’m deeply afraid that…..
….nothing explains that!!!!
