This is post-holiday tree recycling at its finest.
The buck goats get a holiday treat of the Christmas tree, and within a day, they've reduced it to a spine.
Their breath smells like balsam pillows.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Christmas Past
This is post-holiday tree recycling at its finest.
The buck goats get a holiday treat of the Christmas tree, and within a day, they've reduced it to a spine.
Their breath smells like balsam pillows.
Year End Accounting: Taking Inventory
It’s not what you think. 2007 was the Year of the Goat-Inflicted Injury.
Feb: Got knocked down by the goats onto frozen nanny berries, which are like marbles, bruised my knee. It’s still sore.
Mar: Sprain my thumb catching kids during round up for the Easter meat auction. It’s still sore.
Apr: Reduced mobility in my bucket shoulder. It’s still sore.
June: Rip open my leg on fencing while rounding up escaped goats, in the dark, in a thunderstorm. Nice scar.
July: Get front teeth knocked in catching kids during the next meat goat round up. Emergency trip to the dentist. Not covered by insurance. Months of dentist visits to fix. They’re still sore.
Dec: Lay open the back of my hand during goat round up for expensive health check required by the state. Another unfunded state mandate. No trip to the emergency room, can’t afford the time. Lovely scar.
Jan: Buck gets ugly on me, and knocks me down. I whack him upside the head with a shovel, and he just shakes it off and shows off by ripping a board off the wall of the barn. I hope he’s still sore as he boards the meat truck.
Notice a trend here?
Resolved for 2008: No more goat roundups. All cull animals go at one week of age, or in the bucket of a tractor. No more expensive vet visits to test for diseases that don’t exist in Maine. My body can’t afford it.
Feb: Got knocked down by the goats onto frozen nanny berries, which are like marbles, bruised my knee. It’s still sore.
Mar: Sprain my thumb catching kids during round up for the Easter meat auction. It’s still sore.
Apr: Reduced mobility in my bucket shoulder. It’s still sore.
June: Rip open my leg on fencing while rounding up escaped goats, in the dark, in a thunderstorm. Nice scar.
July: Get front teeth knocked in catching kids during the next meat goat round up. Emergency trip to the dentist. Not covered by insurance. Months of dentist visits to fix. They’re still sore.
Dec: Lay open the back of my hand during goat round up for expensive health check required by the state. Another unfunded state mandate. No trip to the emergency room, can’t afford the time. Lovely scar.
Jan: Buck gets ugly on me, and knocks me down. I whack him upside the head with a shovel, and he just shakes it off and shows off by ripping a board off the wall of the barn. I hope he’s still sore as he boards the meat truck.
Notice a trend here?
Resolved for 2008: No more goat roundups. All cull animals go at one week of age, or in the bucket of a tractor. No more expensive vet visits to test for diseases that don’t exist in Maine. My body can’t afford it.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Full Hibernation Mode
Well, I am in full hibernation mode. With the short days, long nights, deep snow and cold driving me inside, all I want to do is sit on the couch and watch movies... I am only milking a handful of goats, so chores don't take that long (unless I have to shovel yet more snow). Evening chores are done before it starts to get dark. All the signals tell me it's time to go to bed, so I have a hard time staying awake past supper.
My sister tells me she can always tell when I'm getting enough sleep, because I start to get new ideas. New cheese flavors and types dance in my head. I find myself tinkering in the kitchen planning new product lines for summer. I truly believe I have time to bake bread and pick up the house.
All too soon, it will be kidding time, when I go from 0 to 60 MPH in about ten days. I have lots to do before then: a full scrub down of the dairy, winter repairs, a new hoop house for the kids. And oh my god, the taxes and financial aid apps for Fiona. Christmas books to read. Web pages to update.
This is the irony of winter. Not enough time.
My sister tells me she can always tell when I'm getting enough sleep, because I start to get new ideas. New cheese flavors and types dance in my head. I find myself tinkering in the kitchen planning new product lines for summer. I truly believe I have time to bake bread and pick up the house.
All too soon, it will be kidding time, when I go from 0 to 60 MPH in about ten days. I have lots to do before then: a full scrub down of the dairy, winter repairs, a new hoop house for the kids. And oh my god, the taxes and financial aid apps for Fiona. Christmas books to read. Web pages to update.
This is the irony of winter. Not enough time.
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