Bird House & Barn

...a Farm Report

Welcome! The Barn is where we spent our afternoon, and early evening. We were visiting our goats and giving the chicas free-range time.

Some sad notes: Our dear little Puff was attacked, in broad daylight. We believe it was a hawk. At lock-up time, we were all calling and searching, and what we found was a terrible shock. Free-ranging is a risky freedom, and so, until we build the large chicken run, the girls are only out when we are with them, watching, in the late afternoon. Puff was a dear soul, so very mild, and a darling mother. We miss her.

You may recall, our long night, when Flopsy was attacked by the raccoon. We lost our Flopsy bunny, and it still pains us to think of her, and the sad injuries she endured. We redoubled our security measures and vigilance, but to no avail. And I am sorry, and ashamed to say, that the raccoon found the opportunity to take Sanka Rabbit. There is no worse feeling than knowing you failed to prevent something horrible, like this, from happening, twice. Obviously, we are dealing with a stalking, persistent bandit.

It's just as Jennifer W. noted, "Animals bring so much joy and so much sorrow.
Every time we have a pet die I say "no more. I simply cannot bear the sadness of their death" but then I remember the joy and begin searching for another."

My heart breaks, and I raise the fist of indignation, and then I realize it's all my fault for having so many pets in the first place, so I hang my head in sorrowful shame... and then I accept that we love our farm. We love our pets, and we do honestly give them the things they need, and more, for good lives... as best we can, and in return they make us laugh, give eggs, distract us, and calm us, and make us crazy, too. Life cannot be picture perfect. And as long as there are going to be heartaches and tragedies, I choose to take it with funny, fragile, friendly pets. They are good.

Well, they try to be good, right? Maybe not. There is a great deal of unconditional love, when it comes to our pets. Nikkipolani's recent cat post is a good, and funny, reminder of what we willingly put up with for our rambunctious fur-babies!

The chicas think the goats are wildly unruly, but they don't let it keep them from foraging around the goat pen, or joining the call to dinner, right from under the goat's noses! Here, Shebot and little Penny are scratching for leftovers. They are not disappointed.

Tasha, our sad goat, is slowly mending. Whatever she managed to do to herself, she does seem improved everyday. I can't get her to take any more ibuprofen... what was easy is now impossible, since she's realized those little pills are not tasty. She walks around, and even jumped up the low wall to the rose bed. So, without a goat vet, I have decided her diagnosis is: severe strain to her legus-backus. Prescription: warmth, affection, and patience.

Both goats love it when we are hanging out with them. And we never tire of their antics. Last night Alex and I saw quite possibly the funniest goat nonsense ever! Ada scampered away from us, toward the barn, and as she ambled she began to lead with her turned head, and run sideways, but her weight and momentum got the better of her, and suddenly she was doing barrel rolls down the slight slope on the lawn. Wee goat legs flailing helplessly, her eyes wide and astonished! After her 720, she sprang to her feet and trotted back to us, as bewildered as we were.

If my camera were filming, we could sell the footage, and retire comfortably, while the world laughed heartily. Goats!