I Might Be Short, But I'm Smart!

You know what they say: where there’s a will, there’s a goat. The bigger does are out there practically climbing trees to reach the best, juiciest branches,doing their best giraffe impressions. But the kids? They just can’t reach. So what’s a short goat to do? Improvise, of course. One particularly clever little kid figured out her own way to the gourmet section of the buffet. She might not have the height, but she’s definitely got the brains. Honestly, I think she deserves a tiny trophy… or at least the last of the juicy branches.

Lambing and kidding season is officially over for the year, and I’m happy to report that everyone made it through with flying colors. We’ve got strong, healthy moms and fast-growing little ones who seem to think they’re in training for some kind of barnyard Olympics. Spring is here—mostly. It did snow yesterday, but here in the north country, that’s not exactly breaking news.

Yes, spring has arrived… sort of. We had snow yesterday, because apparently Mother Nature has a twisted sense of humor. But if you're not from the North Country, let me explain how our seasons work:

1. Almost Winter

2. Winter

3. Still Winter

4. False Hope Followed Immediately by Winter Again

Summer, when it does show up, is kind of like a houseguest who brings wine, cleans up after themselves, and then leaves just when you're getting used to them. But maybe that's why we appreciate it so much—blink and it's over.

Meanwhile, my son down in southern Illinois has been mowing his lawn for two months already. I know this because he called me on Mother’s Day to casually drop that into conversation. I looked out the window at our proud, struggling two inches of grass and briefly considered moving south. But then I remembered: down there, it gets hot enough to cook breakfast on your car hood by June. So I’ll stay here and let the goats and sheep handle the lawn mowing duties. They work cheap and never ask for lemonade.

Summer plans? Oh, just the usual. More fencing (because apparently I enjoy punishment), clearing brush (hello, ticks), and finishing the never-ending barn project. We’re hoping to get hot and cold running water into the milk room (living the high life here, folks) and get the barn kitchen finished so I can finally get inspected to sell goat cheese. It’s a long process, but I’m nothing if not stubborn. Ask any of my animals, they’ll back me up.

Meanwhile, Talon (our bratty three-year-old Gypsy Cob) is heading to training camp for the summer to learn how to pull a cart and, fingers crossed, and accept brushing without acting like I'm committing war crimes. He currently lives with the buck, who regularly wears bits of Talon’s tail like some sort of rustic fashion statement. Don’t worry, the buck won’t be lonely for long. He and the ram will be bachelor buddies come June 1st, since I have no desire for lambs being born in a blizzard. Mid-winter lambing? Hard pass.

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