Sunday, January 11, 2009
The Honeymoon Suite
In the middle of winter, on a farm, thoughts turn to spring. Nothing is more a symbol of spring than baby goats. This year I want baby goats on the farm. We haven't had any born here for several years. Last year I bought the little buck Ruckus for this purpose. Well let's just say that Ruckus didn't have it in him. I did breed the two does, Lexi and Semi-Sweet, to him but they came back in heat a day after he left.
So I asked the goatfarmer over at Herron Hill Dairy if the girls could book a stay in the famous honeymoon suite that they had been reading about on the internet. She agreed to host the girls for a few days.
We now waited for the most opportune time for the goat girls to meet the dashing Captain January.
That was back in November. The first time they came in season it was Thanksgiving and we were in Bakersfield. The next time it was before Christmas and we were in the freeze of the century. Sort of like in Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Remember the blizzard scene? I was not going to drive the girls to the honeymoon suite then.
It all boils down to a scheduling problem. The girls are never ready when everyone else is. Besides the honeymoon suite is a very busy place this time of year. I had almost given up when I went down to feed this morning and Lexi was mooning all over Moly, the pygmy wether.
I called the goatfarmer and said, "Ready or not. Here we come."
I put a dog crate in the back of the Jeep and went to load the girls. I decided to take Semi-Sweet too. The girls had other ideas and would normally be fighting to get out of the pasture were fighting to get back in. They know a Jeep ride can be dicey with nothing good coming at the end.
Over the river and through the woods we went to Herron Hill Bed and Breakfast. Met in the drive by a leery Great Pyrenees that had in the past greeted me with tail wags and smiles but now was not to sure about the hat I was wearing. It was my Portobello colored, floppy wool hat that I made a couple of years ago. It made me look quite suspicious to the dog who's job it is to guard the flock. But after a good sniff he smelled goat on me and decided I was OK in his book.
Lexi got hauled out of the crate first...and I mean hauled. She did not want to come out. But she recovered fairly quickly and before the goatfarmer could get around to the front of the barn, after letting the buck in, to give me my instructions the deed was done and we were all sitting back and having a smoke...not really.
Semi-Sweet was another matter. She spent the whole time perfecting her head butts. Some rivaling the Big-Horn sheep you see on nature shows.
It really wasn't very feminine of her.
She was checked into the honeymoon suite for a few days of romance. Lexi got to come home.