The Busy Life

My family say I have bed head. But I say I have Edward-the-vampire head. It's like this, only messier, like I got out of bed late on a Saturday and didn't brush it before saying "good morning."

Well, good morning to you all! I have finally found my feet and I am back in cyber space after a lengthy leave of absense. Is that sentence redundant, not to mention containing of two nasty alliterations?

A farm is happening.

It has five goats, twenty-four hens and a suspect rooster. They live off of grasses, sprouted grains, and bugs, taking shelter in little huts made for them out of boards and tarp, and penned in by two fences that bite if you lick them. They give milk mornining and evening, working together to produce two gallons a day. It is sweet, clean milk and does not taste like hair. They are happy little farm creatures and don't try and get out of their pen to search for sweeter grasses. They are supplied with fresh-cut clover every day and, in return, reward the farmer with more and better milk. 

I have been asked by more than one friend (two, exactly) to hurry up and post some pictures already. So, this post is for you, Bree and Kail. I hope it is a good one.

We brought them home from Wisconsin

in the back of our van

Jurnee

Mercedes

Haydee (i-day)



The farmer

In a dream

We stopped at MacDonalds on the way home for coffee. Tasha said, "I'll have a Cappuccino!" We went through the drive-thru and the little goats stared and bleated out the back window. A van drove up behind us. The middle-aged lady in the passanger seat turned to look at her middle-aged husband, who didn't turn to look at her, and then they both sat quite still as though they didn't know what to think. Tasha said, "I'm going to milk Haydee into my coffee." Dad and I laughed. (People, my sister is the crazy one). We parked the van and I held Haydee while Tasha milked her into a plastic jug. Then Tasha said, "Thank you, Haydee," and patted her and poured the milk into her black coffee. She took a sip. "Now I have the best coffee," she said and I almost believed her, she sounded so completely satisfied.
Who ever milked a goat into their coffee in a MacDonalds parking lot? I can cross that one off my bucket list.

The goats

 

They all sat down because they got fed up with falling over

Hehe. You saw right. They don't have ears. It's alarming at first to look at them, because it looks like they were maimed in a horrible accident, but then you get used to the fact that they have holes in their heads and you begin to think of them, in stead, as a breed of hairy sea creature. At least, I do. Now, that is a bit strange.

The baby of the herd

Let the top-dog battles begin!
[And may the odds be ever in your favor]
;-P

Shrimp takes on the table

So, we had three goats, but the next evening Tasha found two more goats and Dad and her were off the next morning to look at them. And she bought them. This time the the little milkers had ears. Thank goodness, right?

Ruby

Zim

The lovely farmer at milking time

Some other day perhaps I'll post about the milking procedure, but not now.

The goat and chicken sheds

I milked the entire herd on Thursday to help my sister out, because her hands hurt from cutting wire with blunt wire cutters the day before. It took two hours and I ended up with half a gallon of milk, since the other half ended up running down my arms or spraying on my legs and grass and at chickens.

Tasha says I had to learn sometime or another.

 This is the lovely farm. It's happy in the sun. The goats have a shade, see, like desert people. I think that's neat.

The farm

Under the sun

Little white hen

Another

A third hen and the farmer's father

And the other half of busy...

THE END