Names? Thought we needed the translator?

Troops out for a walk. Daisy in front, Coco, Little Whitey, Blackberry to the right, then Crispus, and Strawbaby in back. Poor Honey and Parsley missed getting in. Taken earlier this month.

Blackberry: oyqj, jdjkoen leojk nqplamznv dbcerhehr : : : oehk yrtdslma,oeikdc.

Crispus: Happy now?

Blackberry: Yes, static complete.
Strawbaby: Wonderful impersonation.

Parsley: Sounded a little too much like a drowning chicken.

Whitey: What does that sound like?

Honey: I liked it.

Whitey: Me too!

Blackberry: What about you, Daisy? Coco? I need your opinions.

Strawbaby: Maybe you shouldn’t.

Daisy: My opinion is important!

Strawbaby: Sorry—

Daisy: Very important!

Blackberry: Tell me, tell me.

Crispus: Be ready to run.

Whitey: Posed and –

Daisy: Quiet in the ranks!

Crispus: Yes, Commander Daisy.

Whitey: I thought Honey was Commander?

Daisy: No, he was Head Honey.

Whitey: Why?

Daisy: Sounds better.

Crispus: There are no heads in the military. Ask Parsley.

Parsley: Well, I think—

Daisy: If I say there are then there are. I’m special.

Honey: I’m special too.

Whitey: I’m cute.

Crispus: No, you are a soldier.

Parsley: Everyone is a soldier. I don’t really know why I’m bothering.

Blackberry: I’m a pigeon!

Strawbaby: Sorry my daughter, you are most defiantly not.

Crispus: Private not pigeon. Pigeon! Private! We have strayed—

Whitey: Nothing is private.

Daisy: My space is and my hay and my water and—

Crispus: We are off point!

Daisy: No interrupting your superior! 

Crispus: Ow! Run!

Whitey: It was commander.

Blackberry: Right, or Potent.

Strawbaby: There they go. I believe Parsley was Potent. Right?

Parsley: I believe it is Potentate and yes.

Blackberry: Potent sounds better.

Strawbaby: I believe—

Crispus: Help!

Strawbaby: Honey would fit that title better.

Daisy: Come back here!

Whitey: Can I be it?

Blackberry: No, you soldier.

Daisy: huff, huff, everyone is a soldier, huff. New name for Whitey. Think … now!

Blackberry: Private!

Strawbaby: You’re a private.

Parsley: Call him corporal.

Daisy: No, how about Major?

Crispus: Strawbaby is a Major.

Strawbaby: No, pretty sure I was a Sergeant.

Blackberry: What is Honey? Honey!  Honey!

Daisy: He doesn’t have a name. Neither does Coco and from the looks of her sleeping I doubt she wants one.

Parsley: Lieutenant?

Crispus: Colonel?

Strawbaby: You can’t name any one after a corn kernel.

Crispus: It isn’t—

Daisy: I agree. Brigadier? 

Whitey: I like that. I want to be a Brigadier.

Daisy: I haven’t said yet.

Blackberry: And what about Honey?

Daisy: I thought he was potent?

Blackberry: Parsley was potent.

Parsley: I don’t know why …

Daisy: You can’t leave unless your Superior Commander allows you!

Strawbaby: There they go.

Whitey: We lost our potent and superior commander.

Blackberry: Maybe they are practicing maneuvers.

Whitey: Sounds fun but the fence is in the way.

Crispus: I think Parsley is going inside to take a nap.

Blackberry: It is cud chewing time.

Whitey: Squeek. Yes, num, num.

Strawbaby: We will have to meet at a later date General.

Crispus: Good idea Major. We—

Whitey: Squeek, num.

Crispus: can meet after cud chewing.

Whitey: num, num, gulp.

Blackberry: No good. I have to practice my singing in sparrow.

Whitey: Squeek, num, num.

Strawbaby: That is very important for her education.

Crispus: Num, num, fine. Tomorrow because dinner comes shortly after and nap is before. Come my special strike team and chew the cud.

Whitey: Squeek, num, num.

Report from Headquarters

Crispus and Whitey tuning in.

Come in … sshh, zzz, sshzzz … anyone there? Shh, zzz, sshzz—

Blackberry: That doesn’t sound like static at all.

Whitey: Makes me tired.

Crispus: What do you think static should sound like?

Blackberry: I don’t know.

Whitey: Like, whaa, whaa, crzzzsh, maa-ah-ah—

Crispus: Horrible! Stop!

Blackberry: alkjfdoiafkhcnm, soeinzzzkljdfoaika dfi, akdjfoiek, ahog.

Crispus: That’s better. I like it.

Whitey: Completely none understandable.

Crispus: Fine, Blackberry can be the static maker.

Blackberry: Yippy! Maaaaaa!

Crispus: Wait! We might need you to make static.

Whitey: I can do it.

Crispus: Quiet. I am tuning in. Bbzzz, beep, beep … Anyone there? Yes, this is Crispus. General Crispus reporting. We have not been in touch recently due to a series of bombings.

Whitey: Bombings?

Crispus: We talked about this.

Whitey: I don’t think so.

Crispus: Well, listen while I fill in the unsuspecting public. The bombings have increased in frequency but not as bad as last year. Multiple goats have been hit—

Whitey: Terrible!

Crispus: but we have no casualties thanks to the cleanup duty.

Whitey: Cleanup duty, who, where?

Crispus: That would be Emm. She—

Whitey: Food. Mea-e-e.

Crispus: Where? I don’t … Stop, you distracted me.

Whitey: No, I did—

Crispus: But, public, the bombs have increased in frequency. Every day one goat is hit and their coat is dirtied with the horrible—

Blackberry: ahfodiajdla—

Crispus: droppings—

Blackberry: aldfhdoafd akdlfjdo fhdo—

Crispus: of the –

Blackberry: yybnwkihcjkowiuxc,sa—

Crispus: Pigeons!

Blackberry: duoyemc jcuew, oiejkch; aoejk: oeklcj! Ouelj! Woulcyklolehm! Aoelucl! Lkouweolul!!! Ouelc!!!! Oeulcyl!!! Poulknm mqyxjuykd lkweuocul !!!!!!!!!!! OW!!

Crispus: Well, that is what you get for not stopping when I ask.

Blackberry: I couldn’t hear you. The static was too loud.

Whitey: It was. I couldn’t hear you either.

Crispus: No more static.

Blackberry: But I told Ma that I was the professional static maker and she was listening in and, OW! Ma-a-a.

Crispus: Now—

Whitey: We lost the static maker.

Crispus: As I was saying misinformed public. We have been in radio silence because of the pigeon bombings. Our plan of attack? We have a residential translator that has learned multiple languages: mouse, cow, some sparrow, chicken (which was a very easy language to learn), and a few smidgens of others including … drum roll Whitey.

Whitey: Daa, Maa, Me-e-e.

Crispus: Pigeon! This translator can speak to the pigeons and get them to cease and deists their droppings of bombs.

Whitey: We are trying for the non-violent way before we head-butt them.

Crispus: Right but we will inform the public about that later.

…

…

…

Whitey: Now what?

Crispus: I am waiting for the translator to come back.

Whitey: Oh.

…

Whitey: There she is. She is eating.

Crispus: Translator! We need you!

Blackberry: Num, num, I’m, yumm.

Whitey: Foooood!

Crispus: Soldier come back! Actually … public, tune in later for an update on the bombings and our translator’s success. If she has success. I have an engagement, very important, with the hay, bzz, beep, shszzz …

The Goat General's First Campaign

Queen Daisy saw it first but I knew I, the Goat General, should have it.

I tried to take it.

The Queen butted me off!

I called in my troops!

We surrounded her and we tried again.

"This is my log," said Queen Daisy.

We made a plan.  Potent Parsley, you distract her.

It worked!

The log is ours!  We are so happy!

Our happiness was short-lived.

Queen Daisy came back and butted us off.

No!  My troops!  They have abandoned me!  

I hold no grudges.  We live to fight another day.  Victory shall be ours.  Troops!  We will retreat but only for the moment.  We leave you log with this promise:  We shall return and claim you.  Some day log you shall be mine.  Just not now!

What?  We don't want the log now?

Protecting your Head around Goats.

Here is a little Saturday snippet for you.  A lesson I was taught by the goats. 

I have two nice large heavy doors in my goat pen.  These doors could withstand assaults by bears they are that solid.  Two of my goats don’t agree with doors closing on them if they want to be on the other side.  

Here I am.  I swing the door close and start to latch it.  Before the latch closes Coco comes and rears up, striking the door with both of her front feet.  Wham!  Door right to the head!  Thank you for wincing.  It does hurt especially if I am slightly bending over to get the bottom latch first.  Thankfully no visible bruises yet.  Can you imagine the explanation, “Oh that bump?  My goat hit me in the head with a door.”  Daisy is the other culprit.  Her execution differs in that Daisy uses her horns and rams the door.  The result is the same unless ….

I put my foot in front of the door.  Such a simple maneuver but it protects my head from extreme pain.  Yes, I do forget.  Thankfully under Coco and Daisy’s tutelage, I forget a lot less then I used to, almost never.  They are good teachers, very consistent in execution and punishment.

All you goat lovers out there protect your head!  Use your foot. 

Goat General starts his Campaign

Psst.  Pssssst.  Yes, you.  No, shh.  No noise.  Be very quiet and move very quiet.  This is Crispus, General Crispus of the Underground Goat Brigade.  I come to on the eve of a very important mission.  This is a grave undertaking and I fully and whole heartedly appreciate your full and undivided cooperation and attention.  I bow to your fighting spirit.  Your brave heart!  A heart that doesn’t falter in the face of adversity!  For it is a weighty task that I bring before you.  We shall have to dig in with all four hooves!  Push with all both horns!  We—

Blackberry:  I don’t have horns.

Crispus:  Don’t interrupt your superior private.  The details are irrelevant!  This mission calls for us –

Whitey:  What is private around here?  Everyone is always stealing my hay.  I would like my own room too and –

Crispus:  I said no interruptions.  I have every faith in your ability to fully understand my important speech on the eve of this important undertaking.  You can complete this mission!

Strawbaby:  We haven’t even decided on the mission.

Blackberry:  It must be one I can complete without horns.

Whitey:  Foooooood!

Strawbaby:  I like food.

Blackberry:  Me too!  Let’s eat –

Crispus:  Disorder in the ranks!  Disorder in the ranks! Silence you peasants!   

Whitey:  Pigeons.

Blackberry:  He is right.

Strawbaby:  Yep, no peasants.  Only pigeons around here.

Whitey:  Pigeons.

Blackberry:  Pigeons.

Crispus:  Fine my Pigeons.  Now listen carefully.  We have …. Private and soldier why are you whispering?   

Blackberry:  Just saying I wasn’t a pigeon.

Whitey:  I said maybe you needed food.

Crispus:  Thank you for your concern but you both are not pigeons.  You Blackberry are a private and Whitey you are a soldier. 

Strawbaby:  And me?

Crispus:  You can be a Major.

Strawbaby:  Major what?

Crispus:  It is just Major.  You are the Major.

Blackberry:  What is a private?

Whitey:  Nothing around here.

Crispus:  Same thing.  A soldier is the same thing too. 

Whitey:  I already have a shoulder.  Can’t I be something else?   

Crispus:  Because you have it then you can be it.

Strawbaby:  He should be a shoulders.  Not shoulder.

Blackberry:  That makes sense.

Crispus:  It is singular.

Whitey:  Fooooood!

Crispus:  Now on to the mission.  It will be big and dramatic!  Spectacular and heroic! 

Blackberry:  I don’t think there are enough of us.

Strawbaby:  We can figure that out after we figure out our mission.

Whitey:  Yum, yum.  That cud was good.

Crispus:  Help might be good.  I will have to consult …….. hum …….. oh …….. um ……. Ok, yes.  More goats would be better.

Whitey:  Who do we ask?

Crispus:  I will lay down our recruitment campaign.  Now—

Blackberry:  Daisy do you want to play?

Crispus:  NO!

Whitey:  NO!

Strawbaby:  NO!

Crispus:  She would never do as a pilot.

Blackberry:  You can be the pilot Daisy.

Daisy:  There shall be no plotting –

Crispus:  Ow!

Whitey:  What?

Strawbaby:  RUN!

Blackberry:  Play!

Daisy: -or recruitment of unwilling goats.

Whitey:  Ouch!  Foooood!  Help!

Strawbaby:  RUN!

Crispus:  Scatter my brave seal team!  We will continue negotiations at a safer date!  Farewell!  

Warm Days

Hello,  This is Crispus.  Finally my boredom was broken.  We previously had been stuck inside for multiple days on end.  Just stuck in there because of the cold weather.  

Finally!  The sun decided to work.  Snow melted and we went on a walk.  There wasn't much to eat but some pine needles.  I did get to meet a tiny cat called Tiger.  She was sunning on the porch.  I said 'Hi' and sniffed her nose.  She said "How do you do?" and sniffed back.  

We went around the house at least five times.  Also Coco lead multiple charges back to our pen.  Strawbaby also went against protocol and led one herself.  All in all it was a fun lazy day.
      

Left to Right by head positions: Crispus, Daisy,  Whitey, Coco, Blackberry, Strawbaby.

Contrary to this picture Coco did have fun.

One Question.  This is my post.  Why isn't there a good picture of me?

Are these two goats related?

Strawbaby

Blackberry

Really these two don't look anything alike!

"Really?" they both say, "We look like Mother and Daughter."

(And good try photobombing Crispus)

The Goat Got It Once, Can He Do It Again?

Goats are smart.  You knew that.  If you didn't I just made you smarter.  Yet sometimes they lack just a little bitty smidgen of smartness to truly make them succeed. Thus comes this quick story.

Where I milk .. Oh!  This is Emm.  I should probably tell you that before you think some goat is writing this and doing the milking for me.  .... Where I milk is enclosed by a large door that has a latch only on one side.  Not the side I milk on.  I open it up and slip in, keeping the goats at bay with my ninja moves.  I am lugging grain buckets after all.  Then I pull the door closed and it sits right in its frame.  I might wedge some hay in the crack so it really sticks.  Red neck I know.  But there the door sits as I milk on the inside and opened up the door to push out goats and let in the next happy goats.

Goats have learned to open this door.  Strawbaby does it by working her lips in the tiny crack and patiently working the door out.  Sometimes works ... Sometimes not ... depending on how wedged it is.  For the life of me, I can't remember who it was, probably Coco, who would bump the door and get momentum going to swing the door out.  Suffering from punishment on entering without invitation have kept them from these antics.  Today a new door opener was born ......  Crispus, yes the star, will ever so often rear up on his hind legs and paw at the door.  He did that today but with a added bonus.  He worked at the open door latch with his mouth.  He fiddled with it as I watched through the door crack still keeping up the steady stream of milking.  His hooves pawed the side and I realized his mistake.  He was pulling on the latch but his own hooves would hit the door pushing the door closed.  

Finally, he succeeded!  His weight was on the wall not the door and with a pull the door swung open.  He darted in.  I spilled no milk as in a fluent movement I removed the milking bucket placing it on the ground and collared him around the neck.  It actually didn't really happen that fast but it sounds nice.  He wasn't pleased to leave the happy grain munching room.Now did Crispus know what he did?  Can he repeat the procedure tomorrow?  Time will tell......      

Sun Bathing Goat

Life has been boring.  With the cold and all.  We get locked in and then there isn't anything to do except run from grumpy goats, chase grumpy goats, and listen to the singing of goats. 

Oh, this is Crispus by the way.

Then the sun came out.  It was hot.  I tried to bask in it but ... HOT!  I was like melting along with the snow.  It did worry me but Parsley said I couldn't melt even if I was the color of the snow.  Load of my mind. 

But I had to go inside.  I got comfy then looked back out.  Little Whitey was still laying out there.  He will come in soon I thought.  I relaxed and chewed my cud.  When I refocused on the outside world I was shocked to see Little Whitey still out there!

I had a inner discussion with myself.  Then deciding on the more benevolent I got up.  I squinted my eyes against the glare and walked over to Little Whitey.  I pawed him up.  He was reluctant but gave in.

"What did you do that for?" Emm accused me, "he was enjoying the sun."

"Well, he had been there a long time and I didn't want his legs to fall asleep and if he got to hot who knows what kind of medical problems that could induce.  He could fry his brain!"

"Oh?"

I started shuffling back inside, "There is a open, freshly cleaned bed for him right there."  Little Whitey had already deposited himself in one of the beds and I took the last remaining. 

"You are so cute," Emm said, "What a hard life you must have being a goaty."

"Very hard,  with this sun .... and .... this moon, I can't .... find ... hay .... "

Little Whitey in his bed, out of the hot sun.

Getting ready for nap, must chew the cud first

We are out.  Daisy left.  Crispus right.