Is It Spring Yet?

This winter saw the addition of two little goats to our barn.

My neighbor had purchased two young horses, and was waiting in her pasture when the shipping trailer arrived.  The driver let down the gate saying, "Here are your horses, and their goats."

My neighbor protested that she hadn't purchased any goats, and furthermore, her barn and fences were not adequate for goats.

"They belong to the horses, and the horses belong to you," the man said dryly.

My neighbor has seven children.  It wasn't long before the sturdier of the two goats had deposited the younger children  more or less permanently on their backsides, and the more shy of the two had been flattened by her large dog.  So when I drove by and happened to admire her new goats, she said, "Take them."  So I did.

Ginger and Dolly are doe Pygmy Goats.  These are my first goats, and I confess I am utterly smitten.  From what I can tell, these two were bottle-fed, because they follow you everywhere and will sit on your lap if given the chance.  They have accompanied me on many pasture walks now, but they don't like the snow.

That's all right with me.  I don't either.

Goats, it seems, don't like to get wet, and don't like their feet to get stuck in things.  These are matters on which goats and I also agree.  When goats come to the door of the barn, and there is snow on the ground, they look like the goat you see above.  Actually, this is Ginger, wondering why she can't come in to the nicer, warmer part of the barn (I'm cleaning buckets in it), but The Look is similar -- heartbroken astonishment.  This is pretty much the way I feel when I look out the door, by the time it gets to be February in central Ohio.

Mind you, the goats and I have had it unusually easy this winter.  It's been warm for winter, with less snow than usual.  But with or without snow, winter in this part of the midwest is grey, crusty, sodden, and treacherous.  It wears on you.  I don't care for it much.  And by February I'm as tired of it as the goats are.

But the cardinals are starting to lengthen their songs.  Mr. Cardinal has offered his lady a seed at the feeder, and she has accepted it.  And I know from experience that this means things will soon brighten up for the goats and me.

Linda