Jessica Lynne Joins the Herd

Thumbelina’s long wait finally ended on Friday morning, March 27, 2009 when she bore an adorable, cream-colored three-pound doeling. In the darkened stall, the kid appears to be white like her mother, but in the light her creamy coloring and dorsal stripe markings become visible. With markings similar to Jennifer and Leo, this kid may mature into a buckskin or chamois colored adult. Looking at this delicate little goat and considering her personable mother, I found the name Jessica Lynne to be fitting and Thumbelina agreed.

Thumbelina likes the new mom treatment. The warm oatmeal with fruit and honey, the extra meal every morning, and plenty of attention are agreeable to her. For the most part she lets me interact with her little one, although after traumatizing the then-as-yet-unnamed doeling by putting her into a tin bucket to weigh her (she weighed three pounds that first morning) both the kid and her mom were a tad wary of me.

The kid’s naming was a cinch. She’s named for a woman who is as delicate-yet-strong as the new kid and who also naturally gravitates to Thumbelina. Jessica Lynne, the person, is intelligent and accomplished, multi-talented and articulate, and both carefully gentle and amazingly strong. Simply her presence can brighten a room. Unlike me, she considers her words before opening her mouth and is well-spoken in even the most stressful of circumstances. I wish that Thumbelina’s little Jessica Lynne may grow up to have even a fraction of the fortitude of her namesake.

Today Jessica Lynne is four days old. She has spent half of her days frolicking outdoors. Now she wears the sweater initially designed for little Raymond but too tight for his stockier frame. With the temperature fluctuating from the 20’s and 30’s into the 60’s and 70’s, and back, the sweater may help protect her from catching a chill. At night she seems to enjoy lying under her heat lamp and her head droops quickly as she drops off to sleep after her busy days. Eager to learn and full of wonder, she has been exploring with such intensity that sound sleep is inevitable. She has befriended the other youngsters—Evelyn, Gretchen, and One, Two, Three and Four—and seeks out their company when she ventures away from her mother’s side.

Welcome little one.

One, Two, Three, and--I guess--Four

On Friday afternoon, after seeing Gretchen settled into a toddler pasture with Cocoa & Evelyn, Thumbelina, FiFi Mae and Joshua, I headed off to gather up a few more fainter doelings. For the first time, I didn't bother to Google directions; in addition to the directions I receive by phone, having the map laid out for me gives me a better idea of where I'll be going. And, since I routinely confuse Cookeville (which is west of Nashville) with Crossville (which is east of Nashville), I managed to add a good distance to my travels by picking up the first highway given in the directions at a wholly nonsensical spot. Sometimes I frustrate myself.

Once I arrived, I found a pretty farm run by an older couple. They've switched away from the bigger, more aggressive meat goats to the more docile fainters and seem pleased with the switch. The paddocks attached to the barn were easy to reach and the goats came readily once a handful of grain was spilled into their trough. When they showed me the set-up inside their barn, I liked how they had created several straight stalls divided by clean plastic panels, and had heat lamps at the back of the stalls with very young kids in residence. Beyond the heat lamps, the light source was a flashlight; I imagine the stalls are well protected from the elements in winter as I noted few chinks where wind might enter. They kept the animals bedded down directly on the dirt floors and the goats seemed quite content with their surroundings. (Sometimes I wonder about my own use of bedding--is it too much, too little, just right?--and am always learning with every farm visit.)

The three three-month old doelings I purchased are all black and white in color, and each wears a numbered eartag for identification. Thus, I call then by their tag numbers: One, Two, and Three. I also took a doeling who is eight months old. She looks small for her age and her coat is dull and stiff. The couple had accepted her and two older does from a young man they knew who, they said, might have lacked a bit in what he could do for his animals. Also black and white, but with a coat that appears almost coppery-brown (probably from a mineral deficiency), this little goat has no tag and no name. We've taken to calling her Four.

These little goats need names, or at least "Four" needs one. We are open to suggestions and actively seeking naming assistance. Feel free to pitch an idea or two our way.

(Note: Photo shows, left to right: Four, Three, Two, and One, with Joshua in the rear)

Gretchen Moves to P&CW Farm

Gretchen is a brown-eyed Nigerian Dwarf doe who, from certain angles, looks startlingly like Miss April. She moved here today from the Flynn Family Farm, a well-manicured fifty acres of gorgeous rolling fields and woods. Just over three months old, Miss Gretchen left both parents, oodles of playmates, and some delightful play structures behind to join our caprine crew. Like some of our original dwarf goats, she brings genetics from Moe Moe Acres—a goat farm whose name shows up frequently enough when I’m dwarf shopping that I’ll have to find it myself one of these days.


Sprightly and shy, Gretchen spent the afternoon in our home pasture with Cocoa and Thumbelina. She was ducking horns often enough that I gave her separate space for the night, and put FiFi Mae in with her for company. Gretchen makes a fine addition to our dwarf stock. We’re very happy that she has moved here.

Enter Evelyn!

After two days spent watching Thumbelina closely, I came out to the barn around noon today to find Cocoa hanging in the stall. The rest of the herd had wandered back into the woods foraging, but Cocoa called to me from the “little girls’s” stall. When I looked in on her, she was crouched in a corner, preparing to give birth—or so I thought. Upon my entering the stall, she changed her mind, exited, and trotted off. I gave it no more thought and went on with my work.

In the late afternoon when the herd wandered toward the barn in search of dinner and shelter for the night, Miss Cocoa was back in the stall … with a brand-new bonus baby! The black-and-white doeling (yea!) has her father’s coloring (Bully is black and white) but her mother’s beauty and spotted pattern. Dutifully I called our next-door neighbor who, despite suffering from a raging case of poison ivy caught during a weekend-day of open brush burning, donned apparel and hustled over to see the new arrival. (Our neighbors are such good sports!) The new addition, already mostly cleaned, stood to nurse for the first time and showed off her geographical skills by locating dinner in short order.

Unlike Raymond, with his wobbly and spindly legs, this newcomer wobbled less and managed to stand and move without her legs folding beneath her—easily. Blue-eyed like her parents and very dear, Cocoa’s progeny is indeed precious. Our first girl to survive, I named her Evelyn to honor my late mother who would have absolutely loved life on the farm. Evelyn went out into the sunshine soon after her birth, and is bedded down under two (count ’em, two!) heat lamps tonight. We left Thumbelina in the nursery stall with Cocoa and Little Evelyn for the night. Still moving slowly and ponderously, Miss Thumbelina will be relieved when she delivers.

Thumbelina's Patience

Early this morning I let the boys out to browse for a few hours, then returned in the late morning to mix it up. Joshua was hanging close to Bully when I returned, and Leo and Whiskey were grazing on the far side of the round pen by Heidi. I got FiFi Mae to come out and reunited her with Joshua in the cool of the barn, then left them to put the boys back in with the geese. Food’s a great motivator; they came a-running.

Joshua and FiFi Mae appeared to enjoy being together. Since they’re both still too young to breed, I decided to let Joshua stay with the does while they’re out today. He’ll have to go back in with the billys this evening. Put in with the does, Joshua was subjected to a bit of hazing, but since they were out and about they put little effort into driving him off. He’s nimble and prances out of the way quickly, then moves on with his day undeterred.

Today I am sure that Thumbelina will be giving birth. She was slow to get up and come out this morning, and then she never wandered more than a few yards away from the pasture entrance. I went down by the house and harvested enough new grass to fill the bottom third of a very large planter, but she had no interest whatsoever in fresh grass. After the herd trotted off to go foraging in the woods, Thumbelina and Raymond stayed back with me.

Raymond started off with the herd but got separated somewhere around the edge of Lucy’s fence, then made his way back to the barn area. Today is the first day he fought against my attentions—when I tried to hold him still long enough to locate and separate a tick from the soft hair on his neck. Ultimately I let him go with the tick still intact. I have to find the dust applicator I purchased with the fossil shell flour, then dust the animals. The ticks are out in force (I pulled them from three animals this morning) and only the first guinea hen has come out from the place where they’ll roost. One hen has no chance against all the bugs we have here; at least I know she’ll eat very well.

I spent some time grooming Lucy, and some time working on the round pen, all the while keeping tabs on Thumbelina. The poor girl: she lies down for a time with her head and neck erect and her belly spread out around her, then she stands in place. This started in the sun, but after an hour or two she moved into the shade of the Trail Wagon. She stands, leaning her flanks or tail against the UTV, and stares inward. It’s odd. I have seen goats stare off into space, but she really appears to be introspective.

After a couple of hours the herd came trotting back with Heidi on their heels. She’d brought them in for a cool drink and a chance to rest in the shade. Even the horned girls were breathing quickly. Recently I learned that the horns serve as temperature regulators and that horned goats have less trouble with extreme temperatures than do polled or disbudded goats. (I wonder where poor Bully falls on the continuum?) Anyway, when Thumbelina had her best buds, Cocoa and Jennifer, by her side for a few minutes I imagined that she was more present, more aware of the world beyond her huge little body. But the girls wandered off within a few minutes, leaving Thumbelina alone again with her changing body.

Stay tuned.

Welcome Joshua!

On Sunday afternoon, after feeding and bedding down the critters, I drove back to the pretty family farm in Mt. Juliet from which we bought FiFi Mae to pick up a little fainter buckling. Why another buck? Isn’t one BullyBob in rut enough for the farm? Yes, but the two fainter bucks we have—Whiskey and Raymond—are both Gwen’s offspring. To whom can we breed Gwen when the time comes? Sure, the little buckling I picked up won’t be ready to be a sire this fall, will he? Ah, according to The Goat Handbook , written by U. Jaudas and S. Mobini, DVM, and published by Barron’s, goats reach sexual maturity within about five months, so that a spring kid will be ready to breed in the fall. Hmm, that’s good news. But wait! This little guy appears to be polled, a.k.a., his head is as hard as a brick (figuratively speaking) but he has no horns. The book states that hornlessness is related to fertility, with hornless goats often having problems with infertility. Oops! Well, time will tell. Anyway, I cannot imagine that this little guy will be ready to breed a full grown doe like Gwen as early as this fall. In which case, we’re still without a fainter buck for Gwen.

Back to Sunday, I again enjoyed the gorgeous drive over to the farm in Mt. Juliet. The winding roadway and rolling landscape make keeping my eyes on the road a challenge. I saw FiFi Mae’s family, her mom and her older sister, and then our newest addition appeared. They called him Bull but I was told he didn’t know his name, unlike FiFi Mae, so it would be easy to change it. That’s good, I replied, for we already have a BullyBob in the buck pen. Bull was much quieter than FiFi Mae and hardly resisted at all when he was loaded into the box in the truck’s bed. His face is the same lovely dark chocolate brown that FiFi Mae has, but his body is a lighter brown with white splotches, rather like Cocoa. He’s quite the handsome little guy.

Driving home I considered names and came up with Joshua. The Joshua in my life is a handsome young man who is sociable and good with the ladies, just as we want this little buckling to be, plus the human Joshua is dear to our hearts. The other names I considered didn’t seem as suitable, so Joshua was named. And, the name fit!

At home I slid the truck through the mud until the tailgate was close to the pen entrance. (FiFi Mae had proved to be a handful when I unloaded her some yards distant and I wasn’t about to repeat that struggle.) Young Joshua, though, was calm and steady. He cautiously sniffed at the back of my hand then seemed to decide that I was trustworthy (very unlike the fractious FiFi Mae). He allowed me to lift him from the crate and place him in the truck bed, where he stood quietly while I climbed out then opened the tailgate. Once in the pen he immediately sought out the other males and made friends. Poor FiFi Mae had had to endure a couple of days of being hazed by the herd, but not this guy. He just sailed in and claimed his position in the herd.

Perhaps I’m projecting, but I do believe Joshua and Whiskey have a connection. After being at the bottom of the pecking order for so long, Whiskey finally has a subordinate, and he welcomed Joshua into the fold without a threat.

A bit later when the geese pushed out from their portion of the round pen and began some serious nipping of ears (that’s JoJo), the battery in my camera quit, so again it’s my word against JoJo’s, but I tell you he’s quite the bully

FiFi Mae, Trailer Queen

On Sunday the does and dogs again roamed the back acres—with the caprines browsing the new growth within earshot of the barn and the canines venturing far afield. When I motored the little UTV Trail Wagon into the woods, the does pressed forward in a wave to investigate as I began, and even followed me to my first excavation site—a well-rotted tree stump ready to work in the garden; however, they soon lost interest and returned to the more serious task of foraging. The dogs, on the other hand, romped gaily along—bouncing over fallen trees, chasing through the brush, prancing close for petting when I stopped to collect soil along the wetter lowlands. Molly even stood in the runoff feeding the seasonal West Fork of Spring Creek to supervise my adventures in mud. Heidi appeared frequently, never getting close enough to be touched, but coming closer than her norm.

Back at the barn, where I had spent a chunk of the morning cutting the woven wire affixed to the round pen to allow the pen to be broken apart in sections and moved, the boys munched hay and sniffed eagerly at any does that approached their enclosure. The storage trailer stood wide open, inviting goats to approach to reach the hay stored inside. The fainters could reach the hay by standing on the ramp or even reaching from the ground, but the dwarfs had to make do with hay brought down for them. Thumbelina, Cocoa, and Jennifer, who are somewhat hampered by the enormity of their pregnancies, had to watch from the ground as little FiFi Mae hopped nimbly into the trailer. There she ate happily and lorded it over all those below her perch.

At different times the fainters challenged her reign, but little FiFi Mae was undeterred. She even took on the imperious herd queen, Gwen, who tried to enter the trailer itself, only to be stopped cold by the little upstart who has been here barely a week. I’m pleased that FiFi Mae has acclimated so well. When she first arrived she allowed herself to be bullied and run off, but now she holds her own at the feed trough—and she became Trailer Queen in the blink of an eye, much to Gwen’s dismay!

In the late afternoon the girls were ready to go in for the night, and soon settled into their stalls with hay. Even Luther was hungry after all of his running, and he stayed close when the girls got fed. When he reached into the fainters’ hog pan / trough I understood, and let him into the alcove where the canines’ kibble is harbored safely out of reach of those greedy goats. Then Molly actually came when I called—I have yet to do any formal obedience training with the pups—galloping in from the depths of the woods, eager to please and quick to return to the pasture. With everyone but Heidi tucked in for the night, and Heidi on patrol outside the pups’ pasture that she enters and exits at will through the flimsy soft divider I erected to suggest a fence when I expanded the canine kingdom to include the overhang at the rear of the barn a few days back, I called Jody in Mt. Juliet and headed out to pick up the fainter buckling she had for sale.

Seeding in the Rain

Yesterday evening when coming inside I was struck by the sight of our orchard’s first blooms. The prettiest was on what I believe is a plum. (Not all the tags remained in place.) The peach blossoms were so frail, small florets with tiny leaves and a shower of spikes (stamens and pistils, if my recollection of plant parts is correct). The blossoms provided a rush of happiness in the face of spring, even when the forecast was for a return of winter temperatures.

This morning I had to bundle up before heading out. After a couple of days in the mid-70’s and low 80’s, I’ve become a wimp in the face of temperatures just at freezing. When I brought hay to the boys, JoJo took it upon himself to attack each goat in turn, chasing it away from breakfast. Now that the guinea hens are acclimating in the short dog pen underneath the storage trailer—where JoJo & LaLa had occasionally begun to spend nights at my request—the geese have moved into the round pen with the male goats. At first I had let the boys out to roam during the day, but I planned to broadcast grass seed that morning and didn’t want their help. Instead I pulled up fifty feet of green three-foot fencing and fenced the geese into one end of the round pen to give the goats peace. Then I fetched the goose egg LaLa had left in the short pen and placed it to one side of the goose enclosure and hoped the geese would make a go of it in this new space.

After everyone had been fed and the girls turned out, I placed the empty water buckets underneath a corner of the storage trailer to catch the run off from the rain/freezing rain/ sleet mixture. Then I opened one of the fifty-pound sacks of kobe lespedeza seed I’d stored inside the trailer, filled a dry bucket with the little brown flecks, made a cover for the bucket from part of an old dog food bag, and set out for Lucy’s domain.

The clover planted a few days ago has begun to sprout, showing little two-leaved plants in most places. While broadcasting the kobe lespedeza seed (again by hand) I noted how much easier it had been to keep track of my progress using the lavender-coated clover seed. The weather made the ground ready for planting. Here and there I dragged a muck boot through blanketed leaves to reveal a new patch of soil. The importance of seed to soil contact has been drilled into us, the students of the current Wilson County Master Gardener class. The couple of acres I seeded this morning were mostly torn up by the logging done earlier in the winter, leaving much soil exposed. Elsewhere I followed the paths Lucy has made and broadcast seed onto her trails.

When the sleet switched to hail that began to accumulate, I decided to call it lunchtime, then spent the afternoon on indoor pursuits. I’ll go spread another bucket load in a few minutes when I go out to feed for the evening.

The hanging planters into which I planted pansies and alyssum over the weekend are still on the ground. I want to see the plants established before handing the baskets. On my way in this morning I spread a bit of fiber mulch over the leaves, to give the plants a fighting chance amid the accumulating hail. (When I say accumulating, I simply mean that the icing was visible and a very few layers deep, not anything measurable.)

Hopefully the kobe lespedeza seeds will fare well and the plants will be able to compete with the existing growth and the clover. When I’d seeded the clover, it was with the notion that goats shouldn’t have forage with more than 40% clover. Come to find out that the niggling in the back of my brain about alpacas and clover was justified. Alpacas do best with less than 10% clover in their pastures. I’ve already begun to reconfigure their first fencing arrangement in my head.

We’ve determined that the camelids will arrive just shy of tax day, after they’ve been shorn in Virginia. That gives me ample time to configure running areas for them that won’t be too high in clover. Although when the Natural Resources Conservation Service specialist was here recently, I’d discussed gifting them a relatively smooth rolling portion of the lot to the female alpacas. But I was reminded that I might not want to keep them so far from the house. Wherever they land, they’ll have the LGD’s to watch over them.

I’m about ready to set the dogs loose in the fully-fenced back acres. Luther seems to have learned that fences may be hot (electrified) so he won’t be challenging any fences. Molly is meek and mild and stays where she believes she ought to stay. And Heidi is just sensible. She stays near the animals, wherever that may be, because she’s on the job as senior Guardian of Livestock.

That’s enough for now. I must be off to feed and bed down the critters.

Time to Break Out the Sunscreen

This afternoon I took a break from planting and sat on a rock with the latest issue of Farm Show magazine which had arrived in the day's mail. I may have sat in place for as long as twenty minutes, although it didn't feel that long. When I gathered myself up again I realized I'd managed to get a light sunburn on my upper arm. (Yes, it's tank-top weather. Yippee!) Between the humidity leaving my skin coated in a salty sheen and now a touch of sunburn, this feels like June in New England--without the months long wait. Did I mention I like it here?

Although the hens continued laying through the winter, they've begun to take an interest in sitting on the nest, brooding. Today saw two broody hens supervising the one next. I've left nearly a dozen eggs (ten, actually) for them to hatch and promised to have a chicken tractor built in time so that we won't have chicks running about underfoot. I would really like to build a little hen house on wheels, say in the bed of an old cart, and attach runs so that the chickens could be contained and their fertilizer deposited in prescribed locations; however, I am forever becoming distracted by one thing or another. If I just get a wire-covered frame together in time, that will suffice. At least the chickens aren't nasty about protecting their eggs like that gander.

For two nights now I've managed to corral JoJo and LaLa into a small pen at night. JoJo is easy to catch because he's forever heckling the goats, allowing me to swoop in and pick him up without a fuss. LaLa, though, puts effort into avoiding capture, so much so that I had to resort to using the poultry grabber long handled hook that's been lying around waiting to be needed. I envisioned hooking a leg and reeling her in, but what actually happened--under the almost full moon--was that LaLa's long neck became hooked instead. Poor girl. But the geese were happier once I'd reunited them in the short pen underneath the storage trailer. If I can just keep them contained throughout this season of protective parenting, perhaps visitors won't feel as threatened by our geese behaving badly.

Geese Behaving Badly

Lately JoJo has become an obnoxious goose, hissing at just about everyone except for me and biting at the goats whenever possible. Oddly enough BullyBob tolerates the nips and never steps back from the fence when JoJo reaches through to harry him. The does are less patient and step out of JoJo's reach if he reaches into their pasture.

With the perimeter fence complete, the geese have been limited to the upper acres. They've been reluctant to be herded into a cage for shelter at night, allowing me to do so only once every few nights. Since they've been so disagreeable I've figured they'll be okay fending for themselves, so most nights I don't even try to herd them to shelter. On Saturday morning I finally understood JoJo's behavior. I had blocked the front entrance to the barn at night to discourage the geese from settling in there. In the morning I noticed a distinct absence of geese until I stepped up to remove the welded metal barrier from the barn door. As soon as I got close to the barn, JoJo started hissing at me, at me!, in earnest. Undeterred by my hissing back, he was adamant that I stay out of his barn. Then I noticed LaLa lying peacefully underneath my dad's desk (the barn is still full of boxes and furniture from our move). She got up to reveal a nest of hay and two goose eggs--the first I've seen.

Once she left, I took the cool egg to the house, leaving the newly deposited egg there should she wish to settle upon it. The time had come to unpack the Hova-Bator incubator. With the help of Google, I found the instruction manual for assembly and operation, and set the incubator up in my office. Will the egg hatch? Time will tell. I've since been told that geese will lay eggs in several spots, so LaLa may well have more in reserve.

All told, I'm glad to understand JoJo's assertive behavior. I was glad to learn that such over-protectiveness is par for the course in spring and JoJo had not just turned into a sour goose out to intimidate people.

Expecting Nigerian Dwarfs

For the past two days I've been watching Thumbelina closely. She spends more time lying down, and sprawls her hind legs awkwardly to accommodate her expanding girth. Late in the week, when I had the dwarfs on the milking stand for hoof trimming, I felt her coming into milk. Although she's much smaller than the fainters, her udders are definitely filling with milk. For the past two nights I've gone out late to check on her and she's stayed lying down and let me massage her neck and shoulders. (She always accepts petting. This is the goat who taught me that goats need affection almost as much as dogs.)

This evening I cornered both Jennifer and Cocoa, the other Nigerian Dwarf does. While they are not as far along as Thumbelina, their udders are starting to swell. If they'll be delivering close together, I wonder if I'll need to separate each mom and her offspring. Cutting a stall into four sections will be more difficult, but these girls are small enough that it can be done. They've only just begun to enjoy a full stall space again, so I'd rather not limit their space too drastically. Then too, I hesitate to simply bisect both stalls, giving each dwarf mom a half and putting FiFi Mae back in with the fainters. I'll take another look at the setup tomorrow. Maybe I can trisect a stall for the expectant dwarfs (although with only two doors it'll take some doing) and bisect the other. I could put Feenster in with FiFi Mae on a trial basis; they're about the same size.

An additional concern is the multiple teats I've only just noticed on some of the gals. One of the dwarfs--either Thumbelina or Jennifer--has an extra teat on one side. It's smaller and likely to not be put into use, but its presence marks an undesirable trait that can be hereditary--making the does with the trait good candidates for culling. Feenster has four teats instead of the usual two. I'll have to find out how likely the trait is to be passed on; she's a fine fainter--known for impromptu somersaults every few days--and I'd hate to lose that asset.

I wonder how soon Thumbelina will deliver. Something tells me that she'll be a good, attentive mom.

FiFi Mae

FiFi Mae lived just off Central Pike in Mt. Juliet for the first three months of her life. Advertised on Craigslist as a Nigerian Dwarf/Fainter cross who stiffens but doesn't faint, she seemed like a good addition to our herd. When I met her she showed no signs of stiffening, and since she'd been here I've seen no such signs.

Adjusting to the herd wasn't easy. When she first came off the truck, she bleated plaintively and received answering calls from the established herd. After enduring a scrape of her horns to my face and suffering the impact of the wooden crate in which she was transported when it bounced onto my foot, I let her into the pasture through the closest gate--even though it's the trickiest to open.

The herd greeted her well, and I was pleased, but the puppies saw her as a fine new toy to chase. I kept them diverted while she settled in and dinner was served almost straightaway. Dinner posed problems because it meant being closed into a stall with one part of the herd or another. I had planned to place her in the nursery/infirmary portion of the Dwarfs' stall, but wasn't eager to carry her struggling mass that soon. However, the fainters, or my "big girls" as I call them, chased her mercilessly around their stall--tag-teaming her so that the little brown goat had almost no respite. So I caught her, but the logistics of opening doors with hungry goats underfoot and a wriggling armload of FiFi Mae had me setting her down in with the Dwarfs--who proved to be only a hair more hospitable than the fainters had been.

With the little goat panting every chance she had to rest, I determined she had to spend the night apart, and moved her into the other portion of the "little girls'" stall. Then I removed the insulation barrier thad had kept the infirmary and nursery separate, and piled hay up against the wire panel divider. This encouraged the little girls to stay near FiFi Mae without badgering her. After supervising for some minutes I left the herd for the night.

In the morning FiFi Mae was reunited with the herd. Little Raymond was glad to have a playmate closer to his size. The puppies were too excited to be sensible, so I gave them a time out in the very stall where she'd spent the night. Barred from the pasture by the wire grate, they were able to watch the pasture without entering. Throughout the day I saw her existing placidly among the herd much of the time, while still suffering hazing at the whims of any of the others.

Now, just two days later, she seems to be holding her own. As I look out from my study window, I often find her close to Raymond and usually appearing calm. Her newness has worn off for the puppies, thank goodness, and she's free to exist with little harrassment from the herd.

Spring is Here

Yippee! Spring has arrived in Middle Tennessee! Sure, the risk of frost continues but a couple of days warm enough for sunscreen have convinced me that I really do like living here. Earlier in the week I hand-seeded white clover into the home pasture and the area of Lucy's pasture slated for alpacas. I had to stop to pull out the cell phone to take pictures (to be posted soon) of the emerging greenery, of honeybees sipping sap on a tree trunk, and of the denuded hillside from which much lumber was harvested this winter.

Then, when driving a town over to pick up Miss FiFi Mae, I encountered waves of bright yellow narcissi blooming along Central Pike. Such sights lift winter-weary spirits (not that mine ever suffered this year) and make me eager to plant. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll sow seeds for the garden and pick up the 100 pounds of Kobe Lespedeza grass seed to seed over the clover and beyond.

One wouldn't imagine that buying grass seed would be a difficult task. Well, I didn't put much thought into it before having to plan greens for feeding livestock. The "Forage Production 101" class I took with the Rutherford County Extension Service helped considerably, but even then my note-taking skills sought to undermine the process. When I showed up at Edward's Mill looking for white clover (they had it), Red River Crabgrass (it's too early in the season), and Kentucky Bluegrass (not appropriate for our climate), I walked out with clover seed and an order for serecia lespedeza seed. Like the Kentucky Bluegrass, the serecia lespedeza spreads by rhizomes and tolerates close grasing, so it has a better chance for survival with goats on it. When I was ready to plant, I checked my class notes for seeding rates only to discover that the serecia lespedeza is a warm season grass, just like the Red River Crabgrass. Oops. A call to an Extension Agent had me calling back the mill for the kobe lespedeza which I'll need to pick up shortly.

Oh goody! Spring is here and the landscape is turning green!