Frosty, the Snow Goat

I admit it. After nearly two years of this craziness, I still don't understand goats.

Last night was what the weatherman calls "unseasonably cold." With snow on the ground, the temperature was a bone-chilling 19 degrees F and falling. Concerned about the goats, I bundled up in coat, hat, mittens and boots to check on them. Would they be able to keep warm enough overnight in their shed? I think my husband has a heat lamp somewhere in the garage...

Teeth chattering, I peeked into their shed. Empty. Again, I panicked - would I find them stiff and frozen in the yard, unable to make it to shelter? If we brought them in the house to thaw them out, whose bed would I volunteer? Goats, where are you?

Right. Out behind the shed, sound asleep on the picnic table. I woke them up and lured them into the shed with fresh hay and hot water, making sure to turn on the night light and fluff up their sleeping mats. Catastrophe averted. Sleep well, stay warm, goaties!

This morning, as usual, I looked out my window to see if the goats had woken up yet. Emerson was walking around the yard, but Elliot was still asleep - curled up in a ball on top of the wooden box in the driveway. Rushing outside to investigate, I found two clues which told me he had been there all night - first, the mound of frozen droppings under his tail, and second, the fact that just like everything else outside, he was coated in a layer of frost.

I give up!

All Grown Up

All I wanted for Christmas...is for my goats to take their bottles. Alas, we can't always have everything we want (which is why there was no iPhone under the tree for my daughter this year - though I'm sure she'll enjoy her new headphones and Zumba workout video!). At nearly two years old, Em and Ellie have been refusing their morning warm-water bottles for about the last month, despite valiant efforts by me to coax them back to "bottle-baby" status. Yes, I realize this is somewhat ridiculous, but somehow I had envisioned this bottle phase lasting forever - great goat-human bonding time plus quite beneficial to their fragile urinary systems. After weeks of pleading and chasing them around the deck, I have given up. The bottles are packed away for good, reminiscent of when your child gives up her pacifier or security blanket...

Apparently goats reach puberty by fifteen months of age. I have no idea what this means to Em and Ellie, especially as they were neutered when they were three months old. Here's what's we've noticed lately - they are both starting to grow little beards. Not enough to put a "my first razor" in the Christmas stockings yet - but maybe they decided that anyone old enough to grow facial hair is too old for a bottle. I guess I can respect that.

If the Goats Got a New Home

Don't take this wrong - but for some reason we had a dinner conversation about what it would be like if the goats found a new home...perhaps a nice farm with a barn and acres of fenced fields and lots of other goats...Then we imagined Em and Ellie being shown around their new digs by one of the goat regulars - we'll call him Harold.

Harold: Eat here. Sleep here. Go outside if you want.

Emerson (sniffing the hay rack): This hay seems a little stale, like it's been in here a few hours. When will we get fresh hay?

Harold: Um, when we eat all that?

Ellie: I'm thirsty.

Harold: Bucket over there.

Emerson: Oh, no, brother, don't drink it - that water's cold. We should wait for "Hot Bucket." or "Hot Bowl." What do you mean, they don't bring out teapots every three hours? Also, that cold water has pieces of hay floating in it - it needs to be dumped! Let's call the peoples! And we need to remind them to put a little apple cider vinegar in our water, none of that plain stuff.

Harold: What's wrong with your brother? He's standing so dumb.

Emerson: Oh, he drank a whole Hot Bowl before we came. He probably needs someone to come and pee him. You know, push him into the peeing corner of the yard and say "Peepee, Ellie!" lots of times until he goes. What do you mean, we have to go all by ourselves? Here? Isn't there a tray for if we don't want to go outside? Sometimes our peoples would hold a big plastic cup under us while we peed - that way it didn't leave a mess in our shed. Ellie's really good at peeing in the cup.

Ellie: Where are the sleeping mats? I'm tired.

Emerson: It's okay, Ellie - I'm sure the peoples will bring us clean mats when they come to sing our nighttime lullabies.They must be very busy cutting up apples for us - look, I even pooped and nobody has come to sweep it up yet. That was at least ten minutes ago! By the way, Harold, are there pods here?

Ellie: I want to go home!

Here's the Scoop

If a picture is worth a thousand words...this one can answer two questions. First, where did the goats sleep last night (taking advantage of a rare break from winter chills)? And second, what is the reason we no longer eat at our picnic table?

 
Yes, Emerson sleeps on the far end, Elliot in the center. Gravity does the rest. Gotta love goats!

Elusive Eggs, Biting Dogs and Rabbit Poop

This is not a story about the goats...just maybe a story I would tell to the goats on a rainy day.

A few years ago, eighth grade Science Fair projects consumed our lives for several months. Since my sister had several ducks, Emily decided to do her project on the use of duck eggs in baking. Which cookies would taste the best - those baked with duck eggs or chicken eggs? Eager to be an official taste-tester, I helped her create a hypothesis, design the experiment and gather the needed supplies.

It was December when the time finally came to test her theory (and her baking skills). Unfortunately, my sister had since given her ducks away, tired of cleaning their droppings off her front porch. I tracked them to their new home, where I was informed that ducks do not lay eggs in the winter. (Apparently, I am the only person who did not know this.)  Panic set in. How on earth would Emily complete her project in time? After several phone calls to local farmers, I was referred to a small market about an hour from us.

"Hello, may I help you?"

"Yes, I was wondering, do you sell duck eggs?"

"Why yes, we do. Today we have white and chocolate. Which would you like?"

Good heavens - in all her research, Emily never told me duck eggs came in chocolate! Imagine those cookies! Oh, it must be a reference to color, like brown eggs...

"White will be fine. I'll need two dozen, if you have them."

"Certainly. Usually we have red velvet also, but those are sold out today."

(Pause) "You sell red velvet duck eggs?" (I am beginning to suspect that I have entered some alternate universe...)

"Duck eggs? (laughter) Oh, no, ducks never lay eggs in the winter. I thought you asked for cupcakes!"

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We did finally track down the necessary eggs. I thought the cookies were all delicious. The student who won first place tested whether the mouth of a dog is actually cleaner than a human's mouth, as is often theorized, and she had to swab the throats of ten different dogs to obtain her specimens. I truly don't recall the result, just the bite marks on her hands.

By far the most memorable project for me was this: Do rabbits fed different brands of food produce different amounts of waste? This adventurous young girl borrowed five rabbits from a local breeder and kept them in her basement for two months, giving them selected diets and then collecting and weighing their waste products every day. Also, because the rabbits got lonely, (don't ask, I have no idea how you know this) she had to play music for them all day long. Her frazzled mother described this ordeal to me in great detail. Suddenly the duck egg hunt didn't seem so bad.

So here's my offer - if anyone would like to borrow my goats, control their diets and measure their droppings, I can almost guarantee an A+ on a Science Fair project. I'll even sweeten the deal with a dozen duck egg cookies (in the spring, of course!)