Buck After my own Heart

He loves rain boots, just like me! How am I going to say goodbye to this kid?

Milk Maid

Mr. H built a milking stanchion in under three hours. It's beautiful and so necessary...

What the Buck?

I can't imagine how Buck got in there, but I'm pretty certain he wouldn't have found his way out before his second breakfast, so Mr. H and I used some tag team work to pull him out!

He's a 12-Stepper

Despite Buck's drinking problem, as evidenced in the little home movie below (shot by our very own ranch hand, Mr. H), he is the biggest (oldest) and strongest tike we've got in the farmyard, though his two cousins Frasier and Niles aren't far behind. At some point I will face the fact that all three of them become Farmer Ron's wards, as we can't really do anything with a farm full of buck goats. We may have to trade FR for some does (he's only had bucks so far too!), or, try our luck next year. We'll be using a different breeder buck for sure!

Oh Serenity

Why am I ever forced to leave the Black Squirrel Ranch? I'll "Bea" in the barnyard if you need me...

Bea and Frasier May 15, 2012

Grippers

I've been milking Peaches and Beatrice for two days now --Peaches for longer than that by herself. I feel as though I'm back in kickboxing class punching the speed bag. The mechanics of handmilking requires a physical strength and technique most modern, civilized humans don't possess. Think about it: what do we do in our daily lives over and over that involves a grip like that--extreme golf, maybe?

There's no comparison...my only point is that my hands are a bit crampy and I walked into the office today, sat down in front of my computer and wondered how I would manage to type and even use the electronic mouse!

All I have to say is that you better watch out: after two weeks of this, I'll be able to arm wrestle anyone...and win!

Not the prettiest milk maid uniform, but we aren't
going for fashion at milking time!

Small Scale Straw Bale Monday Morning Mayhem

5a.m. I staggered into the barn to feed the ladies and check on the kid goats. An immediate head count proved to be lacking one small black boy: Buck was hiding. I fed Peaches and Bea and then continued looking for Buck. The barn is absolutely inescapable for a kid goat – any and all escape routes have been nailed shut. I knew he had to be there, but was worried about what condition he might be in if he isn’t answering my calls, or his mother’s. Peaches was a bit anxious and calling for him too. With both of us searching for him, Buck should have been found in no time!

Ten long minutes later, I round a corner with a little cubby between the barn wall and one of the stalls. Buck is silently standing there, looking up at me and his mother. On a time crunch to get back in the house and get ready for work, I told Buck his T.V. privileges were taken away for the day for the extra grief that he caused me and Peaches.

 He spent the rest of his day on top of a straw bale trying to figure out the many ways to jump off…and back on…and off…the fibrous jungle gym.