Tuesday, April 26, 2016

Luna's gift... Vexing, vigilant and vocal

There are so many "V" words to describe my goats.
Let's just describe this mornings activities.  I am currently wearing a sling on my right (dominant) arm as I recover from a dislocated shoulder.  For the past 2 weeks my family has been pitching in to do morning livestock chores, but both husband and daughter had to leave the house at 6:00 AM for work today so I was on my own.

The goats were vigilant at the fence, waiting for my arrival. And breakfast.

They well know the time that food arrives, and they are ready.  We have put up temporary hot wire fencing to block off some of the pasture. This will keep the animals off of it while the grasses have a chance to grow and rejuvenate this spring. The horse is extremely respectful of the electric fence, the goats?  Not so much.  Luna must have been really hungry, OR she knows I turn the fence off before I come out with food, because she barged right through to get her breakfast.

After I the goats were fed and milked, I tried to lead them, one at a time, back through the electric fence.  Ella, by far the naughtiest of the goats, went on walk-about and led me on a merry chase around the pasture before I caught her and put her where I wanted her to be.  Jane and Celeste were a bit more manageable.  Luna went docilely where I asked her to go, then did a twirl and went right back out again. She had a yen to nosh on the brush pile it seemed. I left her to her own devices and fed the rabbits.  Luna looked longingly at the other goats and horse out in the big pasture. She let me lead her through the gate and joined the herd.  Vexing minx!

The three darker colored goats all have some Nubian blood. Celeste and Ella had a handsome Nubian father, and he was Jane's grandfather.  He left his mark in those LONG ears and colorful markings. And in their voices. I had read that Nubian goats are loud. They have a lot to say and make no effort to be quiet.  I thought, "How bad could it be?" It's bad. They are the most strident goats ever. Their  voices call out in clarion cries though the stillness of the meadow.  I can tell which voice belongs to which goat, and let me tell you, Jane Doe, the youngest, talks the most. Sometimes her bleats are merely conversational, other times they take on a complaining tone.  She is comical in her constant comments. And vexing.

1 comment:

Julie said...

Visiting from A to Z. I love your goats! I always wished to have a few, but now I wonder.... ;)