You'd think the farmer would know better by now. She's only been raising goats for 10 years and yet she continues to act all surprised when we don't follow her carefully laid plans. I think someone needs to mention to her that our number one rule as goats is that every time you post something online about what your plans are for us, we will read it and do the opposite. You would think someone would have clued her in on that by now. She may not have internet access at the house and has to do all her online stuff in town and she may wonder how we always know what she has posted. Goats don't need iPads or smartphones to keep updated on the farmer's public blog and profiles. The farmer is quite good and muttering her plans to us as she does chores and we are quite good at interpreting the sparkle in her eyes as she gives one of us extra attention as a plan in the making.
Her latest failed attempt at
planning came when she put me in with the buck for a few days a while
back. The farmer didn't see me get bred but I knew something was up when
she started examining my backside very carefully and taking pictures of
my whoo-ha. I would have been okay with the visual exams but once she
pulled the camera out I knew I had to do something. I knew the farmer
was thinking that I was pregnant and that she was going to be posting my
goaty-bits on Goatbook for all the world to see. I decided that it was
time for a little shake up in the farmer's world. For maximum impact I
waited until the farmer was muttering out loud about how I was pregnant
and she could get rid of the buck because his job was done and blah,
blah baby goats, blah. I came into a roaring heat the day the farmer
started talking about future baby goat names.
I stood at the
gate and carried on like a mad-goat. I ran to the buck pen and pawed at
the gate. The farmer stood dumbly in the farmyard scratching her head
and wondering why I was acting so funny. She checked me for a fever and
examined my eyelids for anemia. She felt me up for tumors and looked for
"Lucy, there must be a reason you're acting so strange this early in your pregnancy" she said.
"BAAAAAAAA!!" I wailed as I ran out of the barn and to the buck pen.
"I hope you don't have the start of bloat" the farmer wondered.
"BAAAA! BAAA! BAAAAAAA!!" I cried as I stood nose to nose with the buck.
if you want to be in the buck pen, I will put you in there. I don't
think it will hurt for you to be in there since you are already
pregnant" the farmer mused as she let me in with the buck.
"BAAAA!!!" I agreed as the buck bred me repeatedly.
this time it must have dawned on the farmer that I was not pregnant
because she just stood speechless watching me and the buck have a good
time. "Speechless" is not a description often used in regards to the
farmer which is why I think the message I was sending had hit loud and
clear. She was also speechless because I think she had just realize that
we had pulled the mohair over her eyes yet again and ruined another
perfectly planned plan.
So next time you see the farmer please
remind her that us goats don't appreciate planning and plans. And we
really don't appreciate our whoo-has being posted on the interwebs!