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Discussion in 'Random Ramblings' started by sunflour, Nov 7, 2015.
Twink is a cutie.
I have always admired goats in fields, but know nothing about them. I thought only the males had horns - guess I shouldn't laugh when folks think hens cannot lay eggs without a rooster
NFLChick, is she a pet, or will ya'll milk her?
It was pumped...a lot. I must have shot that darn thing 8-10 times. I told DH this was a warning...the next time the serious stuff comes out.
He belongs to the same neighbors that have dogs, lots of dogs. They currently have 8, they've had as many as 13, and all but 1 is a pit bull. We've had a couple of their dogs, their cat, their rooster and now their peacock in our yard.
Sometimes I ask myself why we have goats.
The original plan was to breed them so we could sell the kids, milk the moms and they could all keep the brush down in the back. We have sold a few, and they do a good job of clearing brush (only when the weather is nice, otherwise they stay under their shelter) but trying to milk was a joke. The goats are DH's "project" so he tried milking a couple times, but his big old hands weren't a good fit to the goats machinery and what he could get was literally a drop in the bucket.
So now we have a total of 4 goats. The 2 boys are on long term loan to a friend that wanted some brush cleared and the 2 girls are with us. They spend their days soaking up the sun, lolling under their shelter, begging for treats and sleeping.
I can't really say why we have them but they are sweet animals. I suppose they fall under the heading of "pets".
Our big male, One, has a nice set of horns:
But even the females have them. This is Prancer, Twink's mother
Here are Twink's horns, just starting to poke out of her fuzzy little head:
This is Chappy, Twink's brother. He's on loan so don't have a recent pic of him (see his little horns?).
Guess I have just not been "introduced" up close, and most I have seen are driving in the country
Maybe an old wives tale, but have been told goats keep snakes away?
The goats are so cute - I'll have to show those pictures to Ken. We had goats on our place in Canton, SD, when we first retired from the Navy and before we bought this place. He was out there with them all the time. We had a Nubian named Cecil and 3 Pygmies - Sweetie, Hades, and Moses. Cecil was Ken's hunting goat. Yep, hunting. Ken worked for an electrical contractor right after we got out, and he would come home for lunch. We had a lot of pheasants on our small acreage, so during hunting season he'd bolt down his lunch, grab his shotgun, and start tromping the high grass between the house and the creek that bordered our property. Cecil would go with him, just out ahead of Ken, and flush the birds. Nobody taught him to do this - he just loved to pound through that tall prairie grass and watch the birds fly up. He'd flush one, Ken would shoot it, then Cecil would bounce over to where he saw it drop and stand there. Ken often regretted that he couldn't get Cecil to retrieve too.
My brother-in-law was the only person who hated - truly hated - Cecil. It started the year it was our turn to host the big family Christmas. Russ and Linda and their 4 kids arrived, and Russ started hauling stuff in from the trunk of his car. Unfortunately he brought the Christmas packages in first, because when he went back out there Cecil was standing in the trunk of his car rummaging through the food they brought. Oh, and the garbage man wasn't crazy about Cec either. Cecil would jump up in the back of the garbage truck. The first time he did it Craig didn't even know he was in there. He made it the next neighbor's house before he realized Cecil was in there! Goats are how we ended up with chickens.
I wasn't on much yesterday. I took care of two medical procedures and they were both really painful. I had to cut the umbilical cord and grow a backbone, all at the same time. But I managed, and as of this morning when Jenny dropped Kendra off she was still speaking to me, so I guess the stitches are holding. The surgery has resolved the issue of going down to Torrington for Sharon's services,and Ken and I are leaving Sunday. Robbie finally got them all set, and the visitation is on Monday and the service will be Tuesday. There was absolutely NO reason on earth why what the kids need should be more important than what Ken needs right now. They'll either figure that out and work with me or they'll just have to get used to having someone else always there to dump their junk on, because it's not going to be me. I'm tired. And it's so doggone wrong to sit here and know that no matter what I do, someone is going to be mad or inconvenienced. So the cord is cut and I'm getting used to my new backbone. I imagine they will be tested a few times. We'll see if they keep working.
Blooie I love your goat story - they are fascinating characters. I've never heard of a goat that would flush birds and mark where they fell. Are you sure he was totally goat with no canine components?
Blooie, your life, and no one can fault you for the decisions you have to make
I think the first time Cecil did that it was an accident - he was running around outside and a bird flushed at his feet. At first it scared the pee-wadding out of him, but after that he started looking for them and stomping the ground to make them fly up, like some game or something, then watched to see where they landed and he'd run that way to do it again! If you've ever hunted pheasants, you know that they will hold tight until you practically step on their tails! So Ken thought he'd go with Cecil and shoot what Cecil flushed up.