I got goats.
Seriously. Two dainty doelings—
a Nigerian dwarf (Eugenia Beliza, Genie Belly for short), and a miniature Nubian (Cricket Cherie, after two dear friends).
There are reasons I suddenly wanted and just as suddenly acquired goats.
They are good reasons…and I don’t think I’ll go into all of them now. Maybe later. My dress making (for Chandler’s wedding) stalled while I researched dairy goat breeds and found local goat owners to buy from (loved the experience of meeting and learning from goat breeders); meanwhile, the chicken coop/tool shed that Frank had begun building in the spring (see Swamp People) morphed under his hand (and Ezra’s, thank you buddy) into a chicken coop/goat stall/tool & feed shed. Those were glory days for Frank, building the little barn exactly as he thought it ought to be. Precisely, nicely (except for the missing half of the double door, and the siding…but that will come later). Our neighbor thinks Frank carries quality assurance a little too far. Thinks he’s a little OCD. I think he’s a hero.
For instance.
There was a moment that I nearly pressed the escape button. One Sunday morning (Sundays can be stressful) I jerked awake and in a panic sat up in bed and shook Frank’s shoulder. I told him I couldn’t do goats. I wouldn’t do goats. I’d be crazy to do goats; I wasn’t even doing life. My house was beyond neglected and I’d been stalling on the four dresses for Chandler’s wedding and there was a family reunion coming up and various visitors expected at various times…what was I thinking? I couldn’t do goats. Frank smiled at me and said “You’re doing goats.” Whether that was because he was nearly finished with the barn and couldn’t bear the thought of his goat inclusive efforts being for naught, or because he knew I’d reserved the first goat, or because he believed I wanted goats more than my fear of utter and absolute failure, I didn’t ask. And didn’t argue. His smile was entirely un-budge-able. And so this summer, along with the four dresses and the wedding, we got two goats. Bottle fed one for awhile, bonded with both (oh my goodness how I love my little goats)…and with each other. Frank loves the goats too, after all.
Some photos courtesy of Stephanie Akker, or Sebastien Guillot, or both. That would be the cute, sunlit pics of kids (and I) feeding goats.
