Farm Fresh Blog

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned . . .

                            I caused Other Half to tell falsehoods on my behalf . . .

(And it all comes down to goats . . . again.)

It's time to wean some goats. 

It's time to sell some goats.

After they completely stripped the bark off a lemon tree, Other Half persuaded me to sell ALL the goats and concentrate on the sheep. After all, pound for pound, the goats are more trouble and the sheep put on weight faster.  

This hulking creature was born on January 1.

  It's hard to beat the growth rate of these Dorpers.

Thus far, the Dorper sheep have outperformed the Boer goats.  They are easier on the fences and not nearly as clever. But I've had a hard time biting the bullet and getting rid of ALL my goats.  Despite their nature, I rather like the little beasts - they keep me humble and teach me new cuss words.

But nevertheless, I placed an ad for all the goats - as individuals or a package deal.  There was an immediate response for the Package Deal.  I made Other Half talk to him.  He argued that they were MY goats, thus "I" should talk to the man. I've always done this in the past and I hate it.  So I informed him that men deal better with men and HE should make the arrangements.  (while I armchair quarterbacked . . .) 

From my end of the room, it soon became clear that this was another "mini-van deal."  (been there, done that, hated every minute of it) The man planned to pack all the goats in a vehicle together and drive them back to the city where I'm sure he would slit their throats that afternoon.  SCREECH!!!!

I had no problem with the boys being eaten.  They are males, that's what they're raised for.  But the does are former show goats and proven producers.  I didn't want them slaughtered and on a barbecue pit if I could avoid it. Thus . . . I nixed the whole deal . . . leaving poor Other Half to explain to the man that HE himself had made a mistake and since these were show goats his wife was now tripping out and refused to sell them. Sorry for the error.  (He was not happy with me.)

Eegaads . . .  I felt bad. But not bad enough to allow my girls to have their throats cut.

Soooo . . .  I'm still weaning goats this afternoon anyway, but I've decided to keep the does and take the boys to the sale barn next week.  Unless of course, the girls piss me off sometime between now and then.  (If I'm not careful, Other Half may sell ME at the sale barn next week!)

"I wouldn't let that happen, Mom."