And then there were two...

Boerning's Fiore left yesterday.  He's such a beautiful boy.  I found myself looking at photos from when I first got him a year ago to now, and all the changes in between.  And how he has changed!

October 2015, a mere youngster

February 2016--winter fuzzies. Still looking like a very young buck.

November 2016.  He has really filled out and is showing the promise to come.

Last adventure before leaving.  Fiore really did not like staying in the pasture when there were places to be explored.

As I look at his development, I am sure that when he matures, he'll be a truly spectacular buck.  His first daughter will freshen in the spring, and then we'll see if he brings his dam's superb production capacity to his daughter, Hermione.  Of course, her dam, Crooked Shade Dandelion, is not shabby in the production line either, but what Fiore gave his daughter so far is the width to make that capacity more comfortable for the doe.  Hopefully, Hermione will be far more comfortable walking with a full udder.

Technically, Fiore is still mine.  I have leased him to Noelle Lueck of Recurado Farm.  Noelle is delighted to have him, and I am thrilled that he'll have such a good home, where he will be much appreciated.

It was relatively uneventful, really.  My friend Charlie came with his buckmobile and after only a moment's hesitation, Fiore jumped in.  A handful of grain didn't hurt as a persuader, either.

Once the car started moving, Fiore lay down and relaxed for the hour-long ride.  When we got to the meeting place, Hussey's General Store in Windsor, he continued lying down chewing cud while we all exchanged pleasantries and talked goats and politics.  When the time came to make the switch, he jumped out of the car, to the delight of some of the patrons of Hussey's, and walked calmly to Keith's van, where he took a quick look and hopped right in. 

Is there something back there?

 Hay, yum!  Those Luecks really know how to set a goat table!

Tying him in.

A last goodbye.

Keith and Noelle, ready to roll.

And then he was gone.

When I got home, I took Leah and Hal for a walk up to the acorns, and they came, but hesitantly at first.  It was Fiore that always led the way.  Today, they wouldn't venture from the pasture gate, not even to gather acorns.  They're not comfortable being just two.  Soon Leah will go to Charlie's and Hal will join Leo as his companion.  Perhaps being in larger herds will bring back their sense of security. Goats need lots of companions.

Harvesting acorns

As my time with my goats is winding down, I've been making time to take walks with them.  This time, I headed up the lane to a spot that I knew was loaded with acorns.  I love my goats, the way they come when I call, and their willingness to trust and follow me everywhere. 

They were already out (of course), so when I started out it took no time at all for them to catch up.

Even though the leaves have turned, there's still plenty for them to browse, and they do love nibbling along the way. 

But oh, how they did love finding the acorns.  In fact, they discovered them before I could point them out. 

And what noises!  Snuffling, and searching, pushing aside leaves!  A treasure trove!

While they were scarfing them down, I collected a bag of acorns to feed later.  They were very appreciative.

Escape

It is a fact that goats are hard to keep in.  I've often thought it would be far easier to fence them out of the yard and garden than to fence them into the pasture and paddock, but I suspect they'd decide that the other side of the fence was still worth investigating.

The usual suspects

Back to the barn to confer

This time of year, after all growing things have either been eaten by one of the goats' forays or simply harvested in the normal rhythm of farm life, I don't get too upset when they escape from the pasture.  In fact, I expect it, because I stop trimming the fence line and the temporary electric fence gets put away, and the goats wander over to the brush and forage and then around to the road and finally into the yard.

The grass really is greener just outside the house

A quick look in the dog yard.  Zoë was looking back at him.

but Fiore is watching me in the doorway and is heading up the stairs to check out the camera.

What I don't understand, and will probably never understand, is why, since they know exactly how to get out, they can't figure out how to get back in.  Or is it just that they consider me their goat slave?

I think I'm being paged.

I've opened the gate...

...and in they all go

After a few minutes, it's time to do it all over again.

Taking a walk

Now that I'm down to three goats, I have a lot of extra time.  I've never just taken my goats for a walk, though I know people who do it all the time. 

Friday was a perfect autumn day in Maine, warm, mild, with a light breeze and no insects.  True Indian Summer.  I watched the goats hanging around the barn and thought, "I need to get them out of there, but they don't have the safety in numbers they used to have."  I put Zoë on the retractable leash and set out across the field.  Not surprisingly, the goats quickly followed.

Through the orchard we went, passed through the open gate to the far field, and into the meadow;

Fiore

Leah

Hal

 

then across to the alders that grow thickly, threatening to take over if we don't keep them back.  A goat paradise. 

I've often thought I should bring in a hundred goats and just turn them loose.  In a short time they'd tame the brush and eat it all back.  Now I have only the three, but they delighted in the edges and copses.

Zoë was intrigued by some of the deer paths wending through the brush,

but kept a careful eye out for goat danger.  She was a bit leery at first.  She was, after all, on a lead, and not at all sure that she wasn't going to be goat fodder.

I sat on the ground, watching Zoë, watching Leah, watching Hal, watching Fiore, soaking up the sun and abandoning myself to the moment.

It was lovely, but after a while I headed back to the barn.  By now the goats had disappeared and gave me a start, as I couldn't find them.  What would happen if I left without them and coyotes showed up?  Back I came, and carefully listened.  A rustle here, a snap of twigs there.  More rustling.  Calling evenually brought them out and we all headed back.

I'm going to do this again before they go to their new homes.  This kind of pleasure should be indulged.

It's getting real

          The end of an era.  I milked Dandelion and D’Arcy for the last time last night, and for the last time used the milking machine.  I have such sorrow about letting them go, but there’s a part of me that, regardless of sorrow, knows it must be done in order to move on.  I’m going to miss them, D’Arcy especially. I love them both, but D’Arcy’s always been my pocket goat.

 

Last time milking

          I've been dispersing my herd for a few months now, but today was different. D'Arcy, Dandy, and Leo went to their new home, and Fedra  will be joining them on Monday. When I walked out into the barn tonight to feed the remaining animals, it felt empty. No D'Arcy, no Dandy, no real milking, only Leah, who is almost dry. 

I feel like crying. I teeter between numbness and overwhelming sorrow. Goats have been so much a part of my life for the last 9 or 10 years that it's hard to imagine life without them. When Leah leaves...well, I'm not going to think about that until it happens.

          When I left the two does at Stephen Lee’s, Dandy was bleating loudly.  Yes, it was probably because the other goats had gone out to the pasture, but she and D’Arcy were turned toward me, watching me.  I felt like I had betrayed them.

          I know the cure for this.  Let myself feel the grief, then help someone else.  Get out of myself completely.  In the meantime, I'll go hug a goat.

Dandy settling in.  Her doeling, Hermione, is on the other side of the fence.  Instant recognition, and "Mama, can I nurse from you?"  "No!"

Dandy--with her daughter in the background, and her granddaughter next to her. 

Are you really leaving us here?

Hey!  Where are you going?

Leo doesn't have any qualms. He has a new buddy, and in a few days, a new purpose.

Apron off. Time to get down to some serious eating.

Not for the faint of heart, or, gardening woes

It hasn't been a good gardening year, but I did have a few tomato plants that were struggling along, and even bearing some fruit. Did have. Until this week. 

I had seen a little damage on one plant but thought it was slug related. Two days later, all my tomato plants had been stripped of folage and most of the fruit. On one plant, I plucked off 7--SEVEN--tomato hornworms yesterday. There is not a fruit or a leaf left on the plant, and all that within two days. Even on a denuded plant, I had to look hard to find them, and they were a good 2-3 inches long. They blend in wonderfully.  

 

Today I took a couple of pictures to add to my blog, and when I looked at the first at 100% magnification, with an eye to showing a detail of the damage, lo and behold, I found yet another!

Disguised as a rolled up leaf

Out I trotted to the greenhouse, paper towel in hand, and plucked not one but two hornworms off the plant, making a total of NINE on one plant.  I'm surprised there was anything left to eat.  I then examined the other plant and found yet another on that one.  All were quickly dispatched, and I hope a bird comes along and has a wonderful meal..  I left the plants hornworm free, cautiously hopeful that the plants would put out new leaves and maybe even more fruit.  Within the greenhouse, there's still a bit of a growing season.

 

Nibbling on a fruit

 Now, normally I love sphinx moths, aka hummingbird moths. They're beautiful. Alas for them, their offspring are not. If only they'd kept to the wild Solanaceae,  like bittersweet nightshade, they'd still be alive today to tell the tale.  Next year I may plant a couple just for the hornworms and keep a good eye out on the others.