Sunshine!

It's pretty nice out today, so I moved the kids out to the barn once I got home from Jim's. They've been living in the area around the woodstove, though, and as they've gotten around to sleeping behind it I had to wait 'till they came out for food before I could snag the little beggars. Heh. Actually, I fed them first. Then I captured them. Anyway.

I keep reading these protests to objections about Obamacare. These writers say, "Nobody objecting has actually read the laws! They don't know what they're talking about! It's not what they think!" This confused me, but I think I've developed my own objection. It doesn't matter what the bill actually says. The problem is not, specifically, that the State can order euthanasia, or refuse healthcare on the basis of how likely they think your death is, or finance a teenager's abortion with my tax money. The problem is that the government is interfering with our lives again. What business is it of theirs whether I go to the doctor or not? What business is it of theirs whether a stupid teenager messes up and wants to escape the consequences? It's not their problem, it's ours. If I'm sick or injured, that's the business of myself and my family. The Feds can keep their noses out of it.

The weather forecast for tonight is a temperature of seven below zero. For the past week I've been looking at that forecast and thinking, "I'll have to stay up late Wednesday--we'll probably get some babies then." I was thinking of stuff to do tonight to stay awake in case Dad took the Internet connection when he went to bed. Crack some corn for Corbie, crochet a liner for my hood and maybe some tube socks, maybe bake that leftover cookie dough from yesterday.

At nine o'clock I checked on the ladies for the first time. They were all pretty excited to see me, since the evening check is when they get their grain. The goats all rushed over, and Winter, being a greedy girl, ran out into the hall to try to get into the feed. I thought I heard a baby bleat, but, I thought, it was probably one of the lambs. I dismissed it, poured out the grain, and went to chase Winter back in. She's getting quite good at understanding, "I WILL BEAT YOUR FACE IN, YOU STUPID, GREEDY GOAT!!" bellowed by someone chasing her. Goats learn quickly, and we've been performing this routine for several days. Anyway, I got her back in, and then, because cold makes me paranoid and the lamp for that room is temporarily out of commission, I walked around the room, peering at white shapes in case one of the girls had already kidded. On the far side of the room, in the lee of the bale we'd brought in for bedding and a windbreak, there were two. One looked very much like a kid trying to stand, even in the dark and without my glasses (earlier removed because when it's this cold they tend to fog.) They were both kids: Snowflake had kidded, cleaned them, and even fed one before I distracted her with the promise of grain.

I promptly abducted them while her back was turned. Snowflake is a very good mother, and if we don't take her kids away immediately she will let them nurse until they are sold or dead. I am not kidding. She might not see them for a month, but having nursed them for a week after birth she will recognize them. If she were a sheep, I would cherish her as a pearl among ewes. Unfortunately, she is a dairy goat, and we want her milk. We do not want her to permit chance-met incorrigibles to drink her dry every time we let the whole herd out to graze. So we try to take her kids away immediately after birth. I took this pair inside, and we dried them in front of the wood stove, fed them, and tried to convince them to go to sleep. This last isn't working quite as well as we could wish: the buck keeps waking up and bleating. But so far, this night is a success. I'm still going to have to stay up late to check on everyone, though. Murphy's law suggests that Hina would jump at the opportunity to catch me off guard, and first-time mothers should not lamb alone when it's minus seven outside.

Snow day!

Today is my winter ideal: a blizzard outside, Mom and Doug home, the fire going. The lambs are both big enough to keep themselves warm and none of the pregnant ladies are quite ready to give birth yet. (I hope.) They are, of course, waiting for the night when the temperature gets down to negative eight Fahrenheit, but I'll cross that bridge (survive that night, rather) when I come to it.

And, in the way of news, I got an email last night from the Digital Manga Guild, to whom I submitted my application months ago, saying that I had passed the editor's skill test and was welcome to their team. Something like that. Anyway, now I have to go find myself a translator and a typesetter to form a group with. *grin*

see more dog and puppy pictures

Seems like there've been a lot of goat pics in the loldogs.....Suddenly I kinda miss goats. Well, maybe Winter'll kid when I'm home. *kinda reconciled to going home(for the present ten seconds)*

Well, Snowflake, after days of looking as though she was about to pop any moment, finally gave birth yesterday to two beautiful healthy kids. Male and female, they're both white all over, with ears that can't seem to decide which parent to follow. We've very nearly chosen the names: Hail for the doe and Typhoon for the buck, taking the theme from Snowflake's name as Weather. Owen suggested Tsunami for the doe, but Sue and Ty....I don't think so.

No pictures so far, but I'll try to get some taken and posted.

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.

We're working on finding sheep and goats again. No luck so far, but we've found some people to call, and we're running craigslist and Thrifty Nickel ads. This time we're trying to build a herd of purebred Saanens. The sheep'll probably be motley again. Yesterday I did some work on getting fences back up, so that when we do get stock again we'll have somewhere to put them. The basic setup will be the same as last time, but it'll be in somewhat better shape than last time since I'm using different fencing.

Owen's sitting here nagging me to get off. I'm not sure what he thinks he'll be doing, since I don't think he's done with school...

Robin has a new book coming out in September again! Yay! The title's Chalice, and so useful is the whole blog thing that she's already got us looking forward excitedly to September. And I'll actually have money! Mom and Dad are paying me back soon. I'll only get four hundred, since the other four hundred is going into silver ("For Anna's dowry," Dad says) without much choice on my part. I'm not going to argue, though, because for one thing silver's a safer investment than sheep. I mean, it won't up and die on me.

The best milker died tonight, of bloat. Kirsten was eight or nine years old, and once went two years after a kidding without drying up--and missed a pregnancy. Her only failing was a tendency to lose single kids. She was Doug's favorite, and very much his goat. She will be missed. We have only one of her kids, Susan, future breeding stock and a regular little hellion while she still can.

I'm kicked off the computer for an indeterminate period, since it was at least partly my fault and Dad is decidedly unhappy. I don't know whether I'll still be kicked off in the morning or not: we'll see. So I don't forget, I'm in the middle of episode 30.