Well, the goats have just come home. It's nearly eleven, and I foresee many spelling corrections, but I'm getting this in before bed.

We ended up getting three does and two bucklings, probably because of Leeza's lamentable but highly advantageous tendency to give kids away rather than suspect that they'll end up in the ring at Palmyra. I should look up what Paul says about Palmyra. Probably nothing useful. Oh well. Anyway, the does consist of Crazy Horns, with the one curled horn over her head from a botched disbudding; Winter Too, who having no mother around here with first rights to the name will be called simply Winter; and Snowflake, who will adore it here, having been waiting ever since she came of age for a chance to be a herd queen, and will assert herself promptly. The boys, as yet unnamed (we'll argue about this in the morning--we had to dissuade Owen from rechristening Winter Esme (I wouldn't object at all for an unnamed doeling, although I know it would be different if I were acquainted with the namesake here)) are about four weeks old and on two feedings a day. One will be meat.

Dad is telling me to go to bed.