Dog Days of Spring

What do you do when it is 90 degrees? Go to the Shetland Sheepdog Specialty at the beautiful Argus Ranch where all the contestants are wearing a heavy fur coat.
In one of my previous lives I showed dogs. Mostly in obedience but I have shown a bit in Sheltie conformation classes. I also raised, trained and socialized Sheltie pups for a few of my friends. That was really fun. Because Sheltie pups are very cute and smart. My vet described them as "mature" pups. This is one of the mature pups I saw today.

It was one of these pups that I went to see in his obedience classes today when my friend invited me to tag along...for old time sake. He came to me as a show prospect several years ago so I gave him to the daughter of this friend of mine who was involved in 4H and agility. She wanted to socialize him and train him. And if you have ever been involved in 4H you know what a good life a kid's 4H dog can have.
Well he never did make a conformation dog....due to one crucial missing part. That turned out to be a good thing. He has achieved the highest levels in agility, his first love, and obedience which he loves too...just not quite as much as flying over jumps and running through tunnels. Most of all he excelled at being a girl's 4H dog. But like most girls, she grew up and moved away to college. This little working dog still needed a job so her mother took over his training and showing and they are well on their way to an Obedience Trail Championship. Which in layman terms means, a whole lot a work!

Today was another great day for this little dog, in their Utility class (whole lot of work, again) they received a 198 out of 200, which is very hard to do. And in the Open B class (a lot of work...not quite as much as Utility but a lot more than most people would do) they got a second place...I forgot the score on that one. They also got a huge rosette for being Highest Combined score.
Let me tell you it is much more fun when you come home a winner..no matter what anyone says.

Bridled

Sunny has a new bridle. My very good friend makes bridles. How lucky is that? So she made Sunny a little driving bridle. Up to this point I was driving him with his halter, casually meandering down the street. With the new bridle, driving took on a whole new meaning. Luckily my friend who makes bridles has also driven a horse one more time than I have. I have never driven a horse. So that makes it once for her. She had some good ideas and not only does she make leather items she also is a dog trainer extraordinaire so naturally she had him working nicely and we sailed down the road. I let her drive him....because she DID make the bridle. And she got that same goofy grin I always get when I am running down the road behind a little horse.


I couldn't believe it when she informed me that this bridle was just his test-fit bridle. Wait until I see his real one!

Goat Therapy

Today I finally had an opportunity to talk to the teacher of the class of children with autism about how their day with the goats went. This teacher has a heavy load and a very stressful job, to say the least, but as she spoke of their day with Cora Belle and Filbert a gentle smile came across her face. It was a moment, let me tell you. She said that it was wonderful. They walked the goats all over the school. The kids loved them and C.B and Fil got more than one kiss that day. Shhhh don't tell our school nurse. She'd have had them sterilize their lips. Aside from the kids, I had noticed throughout the day that the staff also took the goats out and walked them around and at one point while on a break sat under a tree while C.B. and Fil munched on grass and leaves. What a calming effect these two little goats had on everyone that came into contact with them.
It seems that a little goat therapy was just what the doctor ordered for this hard-working staff and their wonderful students.

Cora Belle And Filbert Get Some Learnin'

Today I took Cora Belle and Filbert to school with me. They had a very important job to do. We have a program at our school for the severely autistic children and one thing they do is go for long walks around the school grounds. One day as I watched them I thought to myself that it would be a lot more fun if they could walk a goat. And what better goats than my own Cora Belle and Filbert. They are leash trained and love people so I offered them up to the teacher and she quickly agreed that it would indeed be fun. I took a large dog crate and a couple of leashes and put them behind the classroom for the kids and the staff members to get them out and walk them. Periodically throughout the day I saw Cora Belle and Fil walking with the kids. They were great. I have yet to hear about their day because the teacher was running off to a meeting but as she ran by she said what a great day it was and she'd tell me about it tomorrow. I am anxious to hear.
It is also farm day in kindergarten so I took the kindergarten class out to walk C.B. and Fil. I was able to get a few pictures. What I love most about bringing animals to school is seeing how the kids react. One little boy who is very quiet and meek took one look at those goats and became a different person. He grabbed that rope and walked those goats all around helping other children that were having trouble walking them.
Here is a picture of him and C.B.


Here are a few pictures of Fil's day.


And Cora Belle....

Kid and kids...two of my favorite things.

My Dream Job

Ever since I was 11 and saw my first baby goat on the Captain Kangaroo show I have been goat crazy. So with that in mind, what would be my dream job? Milking goats in a real milking parlor with a cheese room attached. The other day that dream became a reality when I went over to Herron Hill Dairy to learn part two in the relief milker training. I had already learned the routine when hand milking was needed (I mean really, you are talking to the 1977 Pierce County Fair Goat Milking Champion) but I needed to master the milking machine...something I had never done. First off I had to enter the cheese room and remove my outside shoes, I was then presented with my own pair of milking parlor shoes. There can be no outside contamination in the cheese/milk room. Everything is white and clean and stainless steel. It's the real deal.
The goats are trained to go up a ramp and enter one by one through a special door. I was instructed to NEVER...NEVER...NEVER leave the latch undone between goats because the goats would open the special door and let themselves in to be milked...then all hell would break loose in the parlor. Needless to say I forgot to latch the door. The goatfarmer kindly pointed that out to me before the hell broke loose.
One by one the does filed in to be milked. The hardest part was remembering all the steps. It's enough to make me obsessive-compulsive. Did I wash that udder? Did I dip that teat? Did I latch the door? OMG, what am I doing outside in my inside shoes?
I shall take you through the routine.
1. Let goat in. Latch door. Tell the goat how pretty she is.
2. Clip goat to the stand and give her some grain.
3. Wash and disinfect udder. Don't forget to dry said udder.
4. Attach suction cups on teats. Sometimes this is easy...sometimes like in the case of a bulbous teat, not.
5. After the milk stops flowing remove suction cups and clear the milk out of them.
6. Now comes what I call the spa treatment. Dip teat with teat dip and then apply udder cream and give the udder a good rub-a-dub. Tell the goat how wonderful she is to share her milk.
7. Open up second door and let the doe out of the parlor. Sometimes they fly out sometimes you have to give them a good shove. Goats aren't dumb. They like a good supply of grain and a spa treatment.
8. Repeat as many times as there are milkers.
So I think I did pretty good if we don't count the spilled teat dip and the over zealous udder cream application and a few twisted milking lines. Or the fact that Lucy peeked into the milking parlor and saw a tall relief milker that she wanted no part of, entered the room like a freight train, and took a flying leap right into the middle of the grain tub sending grain flying in all directions. I must remember to bring Swedish Fish next time to persuade her to come into the parlor and act like a lady.
I had no time to take pictures....this is the real thing folks. I'm talking milking parlor, milk processing room and cheese parlor. Did I mention stainless steel?
So even though I have no pictures I did leave with this......

Jammies' milk!

Broody Hen

I have a broody hen. I just like saying "broody hen". Just like I like saying "biddies" (I learned this from Pam on a Southern Farm). So when I'm not saying biddies I'm saying broody hen. I have a broody hen that is going to have biddies. That's right biddies. Because I went over to the farm across the bay and got a dozen fertile Americauna eggs and put them under my broody Americauna hen Cedar.
In 21 days we should have biddies beyond the sidewalks.

Faux Udder?

This is Semi-Sweet. She is a 7 year old Nigerian Dwarf that has kidded once about 5 years ago. Since then she has been a lady of leisure. Last year she was dying for babies. She was one big raging hormone. She even bagged up but I knew she wasn't with kid because there hadn't been a buck around. This year I decided to breed her to the handsome Captain January so she spent about a week in the honeymoon suite.
She would be due around June 8th...I think. Since then she has not made me feel very confident about her being pregnant. She has continued to be one raging hormone. She is acting very bucky and has been chasing the other girls around and at times acting like she is in heat....but that's hard to tell because she always acts like she's in heat.
Once again, this year she is bagging up and getting a bit of a tummy. I put her in the milking stand last week and could feel nothing. Not a kick to give me hope.
So I took pictures of her faux udder that I am deep down hoping is a true udder.

If you look at something long enough you can imagine anything. I am imagining that her tail is even changing and getting little hollow places along the top. My mind is telling me she's not pregnant but my heart still hopes to have some Nigerian babies this year....and some sweet candy milk.

What do you think?

Thanks To Jammies

Thanks to Jammies I can now say I love goat's milk.
Here is Jammies. You can read about her here

To let you in on a big secret, the goatgirl doesn't like goat milk or goat cheese. It has always tasted...well...goaty to me. I want to like it and have tried it often but I can always taste a hint of goat. As a kid with goats the milk was pretty good and I would find pleasure in serving our unsuspecting guest a glass of my goat's milk but my mother wouldn't use the milk as a rule and what we had was fed to the babies or given to a friend of a friend for their child that was allergic to cow's milk. Or my mom's friend's hippy son. It was the '70's man.
When I got Nubians after I was married the milk always tasted a bit off so once again I fed it to the babies and then let the momma dry off after they were weaned.
One day at school, someone brought in the most gorgeous salad you would ever want to eat. You know the one, three different kinds of lettuce, candied pecans, cranberries, raspberry vinaigrette dressing.......and goat cheese. Chucks of smelly goat cheese that tasted like I had just licked my goat. The only one that couldn't stand it was goatgirl...and the secretary because she too has extraordinary taste buds. So I have pretty much stayed clear of anything made from goats.
Until now...
The other day I went over to the goatfarmer's to learn how to be her relief milker when she needs relief. It was very fun but since I hadn't milked in years I was a little rusty. The LaManchas were a breeze but the Minimancha, Jammies, was a bit of a challenge for me. The dwarf-sized teats and these farmer-sized hands did not a match make. I milked out one side but could not get my weak left hand to milk the other side. The farmer got it started and I knocked her out of the way so I could finish. While milking Jammies and knowing that her milk was the farmer's favorite I asked for a taste of it. The farmer got a funny look on her face and said she was so sorry but there was none left. I said well what about this milk right here that I'm milking out now? Well what could she say then? She took the milk inside and poured it in a clean jar and set it to cooling while we milked the rest of the does.
After we finished milking all but one doe (Bertie wouldn't come in from the pasture as long as the relief milker was anywhere in sight) we went inside to get the milk. The farmer told me to have a taste now. I made some lame excuse about it not being cool but saw that wasn't getting anywhere so gingerly I took a sip. Wow, my eyes flew open because swirling around in my mouth was the best milk, goat or otherwise, that I have ever tasted. Creamy, sweet goat's milk like none I had ever experienced.

I took my prize home and have been enjoying it all weekend in my coffee wishing I had some cheese making supplies. Even Hubby has been bypassing the 2 gallons of milk he bought the other day to slip some of that delicious milk into his coffee. After two days I tried it again, almost sure it would have a hint of goatiness....not a hint. This is good news and I am now on a mission to find my own sweet milking goat since neither of my Nigerian's are going to kid this year:(

So thanks to a little goat named Jammies I am now a true goatgirl enjoying all that is truly goat.


update: Being a "nothing ventured, nothing gained" kind of person, I told the goatfarmer that I would buy Jammies. I was politely reminded that I had a darling Nigerian named Cora Belle that is related to Jammies and would provide me with the same sweet milk next year (I guess that's a no). I had somehow forgotten about that in my goat milk stupor.

Shedding Time

It's time to shed the winter coat.

And everyone is itchy.

What's Bloomin' And What's To Come

Lesson Learned

Once I decide something I don't waste any time in getting it done. Last night I had pretty much decided that I needed to find a new home for the lambs. I was learning that I am not a sheep person but a goat girl through and through. I am very glad that there are sheep people out there or I wouldn't have my lovely wool to make my felted hats. I am just not one of them.
I used to think that I had to keep an animal until it died or I wasn't a responsible pet owner but I have since learned that there are lots of wonderful people out there that might be a better fit for the animal and have had some lovely experiences placing an animal with someone that is a better fit. I used to think that I was the only one that could take care of it really well. Not true of course. As long as I followed my gut when I talk to the person. If my gut says no...I say no.
This morning when I got up I listed the lambs on craigslist and within 2 minutes had two wonderful replies. The first gal, Stephanie, wanted a companion for Coco her Katahdin wether that she kept for a pet. He walks on a leash and is used every year in the living Nativity at their church. She has horses and a donkey also. She was very excited and came out right away to meet Lucy. I had originally said that they all had to go together but since she had Coco I thought Lucy would be happy with him. I liked Stephanie right away and Lucy did too.
The next lady, Tammy, called and wanted some Katahdins for her small farm. She wanted hair sheep for low maintenance. An experienced sheep keeper, she hadn't had sheep in years and really wanted some to keep the lawn and pastures down. She also has horses, dogs and chickens. She was unable to come see them because her mom was flying in from New Mexico but said she will call back in a couple of days when her mother leaves. We shall see if she calls back but with loud mouth Lucy gone peace has been restored to the farm.
So you see it is not such a bad thing to place an animal in another home. It's just sharing the love.

The Lambs Are Driving Me Crazy

I will say it out loud.....THE LAMBS ARE DRIVING ME CRAZY. I have always been very sound sensitive. As a little girl my hands were over my ears at any hint of a loud noise and although I don't have my hands over my ears now I am still super sensitive to noise.
These lambs are noisy. They are screaming at me constantly when I am down at the farm. It has been about 10 days since their last bottle and it hasn't gotten any better. I expected them to have a bit of an adjustment period but this is getting on my nerves. Even with their mouths full of hay they are maaaaaaaaaing at me.
And it's loud!
My bottle goats have been friendly and love to be handled. The bottle lambs are still a bit wild even though as I fed them their bottle I touched them all over. They are hard to catch and hate to be petted. I am thinking I'm not a sheep person. There are dog people and cat people and I am noticing that there are goat people and sheep people.
I'm a goatgirl!

Any advice?

My Purpose Driven Life

I, like most people, have wondered about my purpose in life. I guess it's my age and the need to reflect on the meaning of my life. I even read the book A Purpose Driven Life, well really only the first few chapters because I find that books like that say all they need to say in the first few chapters and then it gets redundant. But I ponder now and then what my purpose is in life. I have never done anything remarkable. I didn't go to college, didn't have a great career, haven't traveled much, I'm not very ambitious-maybe a tad bit lazy. So you see I really have struggled a bit with my mark on the world. Working with kids is very satisfying but the reality is with kids is they soon forget you. I once got an email from a high school teacher that said her students had an assignment to write to an educator that had made a difference in their life. One student chose me. I was very flattered and waited eagerly for the letter to arrive. Well it arrived all right but all the things he remembered about me never happened and his spelling was so bad I am reluctant to say I worked with him. But I enjoy being with the kids and figure that if I am just a kind person they see every day that's good enough....but not going to change the world.
As I struggle with my purpose in life I also struggle with my obsession with animals. I feel like Noah as he collected animals two by two for the ark. I am on a mission to stock my own private petting farm. I can see it now, pens of animals with signs on each pen explaining what kind of animal it contains. I mean really,who doesn't like a petting farm? When I had my 4H club and took them to the fair the kids all raced down to the petting farm to sign up to work. It was a high priority that they worked hard in fitting around their showing schedule.
So to make a short story-long, I had a few visitors this weekend to the farm. First I had Clare and her delightful grandkids. They met all the animals with carrots and cookies. We walked around and petted and fed and then petted some more. All that was missing was the signs on all the pens telling what they contained. I loved sharing my farm with these well mannered kids and spending some time with my blogging friend.
The icing on the cake was when the sweet little 4 year old boy called out,
"I love you" as he climbed into the car. I will never forget the look on his face. Sheer delight. To see pictures go to Clare's blog...just remember if I'd have known she was taking pictures of me I'd have ducked, or at least done something with my hair.
My next visitor was my great nephew who always asks to spend the night when he comes over. Now I know with him the biggest pull is his uncle (Hubby) that takes him on a motorcycle ride and the longer he is here the more rides he gets.

But he loves to work on the farm with the animals.
He is a very capable boy and I can give him some tasks and he is sure to get it done. We built a big fire and cleaned up sticks and branches that had fallen over the winter. Now what boy do you know doesn't like a fire and a good pokin' stick? He must have fed the animals 10 times and had enough energy to wear out the black Lab we nicknamed Turbo. Needless to say I was exhausted.
But as he climbed in the car to go home he rolled down his window and said...
"I love you"
It may not change the world but this is my purpose and I shall embrace it.

I've Created Monsters

There they are trying their best to be big sheep but when they see their mommy(me) they holler. They aren't hollering now because I am using the zoom and they don't see me.


Yes, I have created little monsters that are driving me crazy with their franticness to get the tall mother to feed them a bottle. This will pass but for now they are little monsters.

New Neigh-bor

Look what the neighbor has............


She was born yesterday.


Her name is Annie.


She is so tiny.


She will never win a conformation class.


But she wins hands down in the cutest little horse around class.


I think I will go look at her every day.

You know I want one of these but I must control myself.


She got all tuckered out posing for her pictures.

Sequestered

It had to happen sooner or later. I knew this day was coming. The day the hens could no longer free range.
For the last year the girls have had free run of the place during the day and locked up safe at night. Our small farm is fully fenced with field fencing and the hens never scratched beyond the line. I knew I was on borrowed time...or should I say they were on borrowed time. But every morning they stood at the front of their coop begging to get out and every morning I let them out because I had gotten complacent. Nothing bad had ever happened.
Until today.
I was met at the gate by the neighbor and her boy. A few of the hens were over in their fenced yard. The chickens had gone through two fences and several lots to get there.
And their dog had killed one of my Silver-Laced Wyandottes.
I went over and 3 hens were trapped behind the fence, knowing the way they needed to go to get home but unable to get back over the fence.
The lot was heavily wooded at one end and the hens kept diving into the heavy underbrush to get away. So with the help of an over-enthusiastic 12 year old boy and his very kind mother, we proceeded to herd those confused hens in the pouring down rain. Time after time they got around us and dove back in the woods. After about an hour of this I was pretty discouraged and wanted to give up. I told the lady that they could just find their own way home. But the neighbor smiled sweetly and said she would like to let her dog out sometime tonight and really didn't want her killing anymore chickens.
So back into the woods I dove.
I apologized profusely and told them that they could go back into the house and I would keep working on it...remember it's pouring down cold, cold rain....and the twelve year old was screwing up my chicken herding.
But once again she smiled sweetly and said that they weren't doing anything anyway since the baseball practice was called on account of rain and they would be happy to help.
So while I barked orders we, like a well oiled machine, herded those chickens through the woods, across the field, and out the gate. As the boy closed the gate and I chased the girls down the road with a stick I thanked them for all their help and assured them that the girls were going to be locked up from now on.
It was a hard lesson...especially for the Wyandotte....but a lesson I knew I needed to learn. Not only did I lose a great little hen, I bothered a family that just wanted to get on with their evening and not see their beloved Daisy kill one of Mrs. W's pet chickens.
I think I owe them a dozen eggs!

Happy Easter

Making A Pig Of Themselves

One thing for sure about Cora Belle and Filbert is they are friendly. I have been complaining to them about jumping up on me, usually after they have stepped in something disgusting. They jump on the front of me and they jump on the back and unlike a dog they don't care about any of my training techniques. So yesterday morning when I went down to feed something was amiss. Cora Belle and Fil were not underfoot. They were hanging back and looking rather dejected. I noticed Cora Belle had some vomit around her lips and down her legs. She was grinding her teeth and bleating pitifully. Oh no! She had gotten into something and by the looks of Filbert he had followed suit. I just couldn't imagine what they could have gotten into. My mind raced through all kinds of scenarios. The hay was bad. The hay had something poisonous in it. Someone fed them something through the fence. They were getting sick like Moly. I scoured their pasture for any sign of something that could have made them sick. Nothing. And none of the other goats were sick. What could it be?
So I got out the baking soda and put them in the milking stand and gave them a soothing soda drench. Maybe not so soothing but I managed to get enough down them after quite a struggle (good, they had plenty of strength left). I rubbed their tummies and sympathized with them. They went back to their stall and laid down moaning softly to themselves. My poor babies. What could they have gotten into?
Then it dawned on me. The evening before I had let the goats out into the main field to browse around while I was feeding. I had also let the chickens out to scratch around while I was there. I went into the feed shed to do something and awhile later when I came out Cora Belle and Filbert were in the chicken coop helping themselves to an all you can eat chicken pellet buffet. I had left the door open! I drug them out and never gave it another thought until yesterday when I spent all day racking my brain on what they could have eaten. Oh yeah, the chicken food, and obviously a lot more than I thought. While a normal amount probably wouldn't have made them sick, they must have been in there longer than I thought not eating a normal amount but making pigs of themselves.
After worrying about them all night, I was anxious to check on them this morning. As I walked up to the field, out jumped Cora Belle and Fil from their stall. They planted their two front feet on my clean jeans and said with bright eyes, "Hey, what's for breakfast?"
I was never so happy to have goat prints on my pants.

You Pig