Figures...

So today - hallelujah - we got a big, soaky thundershower. Finally.

Guess who thought that would be a fine time to go into labor?

I still need to blog out the reason we are having these strange, late/off season babies, but will have to get to it later. I just have time to post a couple quick pics.

Here are Patty's twins, Thunder and Lightning (doe and buck), fresh from the oven and not quite dry yet.

And here is a dry, sweet, tired Thunder-doe.

I'll tell their story soon.

The monkey-est butt around

Day 152. Still no babies. Oh, Patty. If you ruin our off-farm dinner plans for tomorrow night I will be so very unhappy with you.

SJOTF - Family Style

Mad props to the Danaher family for dividing the Stupidest Job on the Farm task three ways.

Brett took the first shift, which was relatively chicken free. Kristin took shift two, which included active defense against our rooster, Russell Crowe. Their sweet daughter Lily finished up and was so good she could do it with her eyes closed. ...or maybe that's just "covered."



Yay, SJOTF!

Monkey Butt

When a goat gets ready to kid, her business end widens, flattens and, though this sounds contradictory to the flattening part, pooches out. Basically the whole apparatus takes on an appearance strikingly similar to that of an orangutan's face.

I call this monkey butt.

A call of "Monkey Butt!" means kids should be on the ground within 48 hours.

Patty has monkey butt. See?



Tomorrow is her due date. We are having late season kids. I'll explain it all when I post kid photos. For now just enjoy her monkey butt. Oh and here is a normal butt for comparison. ...and a pic of poor Patty doing what we call the "bred spread."




We're full of fun terms at BHF.

Freestyle Jazz

So Christian had a bit of a minor Farmageddon moment while I was at market Tuesday. Heh. I love when I am not home for these.

He was nearing the end of milk chores and went to let the last group of goats into the parlor.(We milk four at a time. With 20 goats in milk, that is five shifts.)The last shift came in and there were only three goats. He crawled out of the tiny goat sized door to have a look to see if one was still in the barn for some reason. No dice. He looked around the barnyard. No straggler. At that point he had to figure out who was missing and why. Not a zen moment on the farm.

Since he is an old hand at the milking and kind of on autopilot while doing it now, and really spends more time looking at the business end than the faces, he wasn't sure who was missing. So he made a list. And then went out to check off who he had already seen.

I don't know why but to me -- this is the funniest part of the story. So much so, I had to take a photo of his handiwork. Heh.



Just as he got to his last two names, Challenge and Jazz, he spotted Challenge and his phone rang. It was the neighbor.

"Hey buddy. I got one of your goats over here."

At a time unknown and through methods COMPLETELY unknown, Jazz had left the comfort of Blue Heron Farm to cast her lot with the cows next door. A thorough examination of the fence, post incident, revealed no holes. It's a mystery how she got there. But it was no mystery how C would have to get her home. A walk down Bunting Road, my friends.

The neighbor was flabbergasted as Christian whistled for her and headed for home. Jazz followed him like a champ. No need to grab her chain, no need for a lead. While she may have had a bit of a yen for adventure, she also knew what side her bread was buttered on and that those cows were not going to give her any dinner.

C snapped the following with is phone on their trot home. Lookin' good Jazzy. Ya weirdo.

New Hobby

We are officially trying to convince everyone who visits the farm at chore time to take a turn doing the Stupidest Job on the Farm. ...the only rule being that they have to wear the hat.

My dad was the first to oblige.


...and our friend Eric was the next.

Yes. This is our idea of fun.

...you know you want a turn.

A trip to the beach

I haven't really talked about our drought here. We're in a serious drought. Serious.
So much so that our stock tank - or pond, if you are from the city - has a beach now. A %$#%$# &$^%$ ^*&^$&$ beach.

The lack of rain has ensured that we won't be bringing in hay this year. There is still enough standing grass and weeds on the acreage for the goats to eat for the time being, but we will have to start feeding them hay much earlier than normal this year. Like next month, probably. This, of course, means added expenses this year. While I hate to do it, I think it may mean a corresponding increase in our cheese prices this fall. We'll see. Stupid drought.

The silver lining, for us anyway, is that our back acreage is usually flooded in a normal year. This means that that part of our land still has lots of grass when the rest of our fields burn up. Small consolation, but it is better than what most folks around here have.

At some point you have to just stop worrying about it and move on. So yesterday we took the dogs to "the beach." Even old lady Diva enjoyed herself. Sweet girl.