The Eagle Has Landed and Just Took Off Again

It was nine days ago that my parents arrived in Bend.  How is it that they have left already?  These days flew by.

Often I am told, "you're lucky" when I mention spending time with my parents.  Many people I know no longer have one or both of their parents.  I don't know if it's luck; maybe they really want to say "fortunate" or "blessed" or "charmed."  Or maybe lucky.

Whatever it is, I am grateful to have both of my parents alive and well enough to travel to the west coast and spend time at the ranch getting to know--and getting lots of love from-- my animals.  I so enjoyed sharing my ranch and dance life with them.

It is with all of my heart that I hope they can return for another visit.  Maybe I'll be lucky enough for them to stay even longer.

Safe travels my eagles.

Note to Embrace Your Path

When a customer tells the owner what she wants her friend's bachelorette party to look like, he has two options:  smile and say, "absolutely!" or not.

And the savvy business owner opts for the former knowing the evening will go more smoothly if everyone is happy and when customers are happy, they generally come back through your door.

The organizer for the bachelorette party was the customer: the paying customer.

And I find enormous relief in the fact that the organizer had her own ideas for her girl party.

Thank you universe!

Embrace Your Path

Something on Wednesday told me to confirm the 8pm Line Dance class I was hired to teach for a bachelorette party last night.  The first email from the owner said "Yes, see you then."  Then I received another email saying, "Let me call them to confirm."  Then the third email, "No."

It was a strange occurrence.  His "organizer" went "outside the box" and hired another gal to teach.  Apparently she didn't realize that the owner had already contracted me and that I, another instructor, even existed and was on his contact list.  He mentioned not wanting to "cause ripples."

It was strange indeed.  I thought about it throughout the day, because it was fewer than 24 hour notice and why wouldn't the owner's agreement supersede the organizer's?  Why, if he had contracted me almost two weeks ago, was that null and void?

It just bugged me.

So around 7:45pm last night when, had plans gone according to the schedule of the morning,  I would have been doing a final review of my dance choices and getting ready to start the lesson with the squealing, giggling, jumpy bachelorette and her gal pals, I said my prayer of thanks over the meal we were sitting down to eat instead.

I said to the universe, "Okay, so today's events were a little strange and I don't get it, it's not that obvious to me.  For some reason, I am meant to be here and not there.  I trust in my path lined with daisies, satin, soft rounded stones and filled with flowing water.  Thank you for looking out for me."

A few bites into our take and bake pizza and salad filled with gems from our garden and hard-boiled pearls from our hens, I heard the goats crying.  It was filled with panic, with urgency and it was so loud, it seemed to be right outside the window.  We jumped up from the table, jumped into the golf cart and raced over to the barn.

Shadow came out to the gate crying for help.  There was Pippin with his head stuck in the metal hay feeder, screaming for help.  And he was screaming.  It was the kind of scream that bypassed your ears and went straight to your gut.

Fortunately, he is just tall enough that he didn't strangle himself; however, he was on his tippy toes avoiding such an ill-fate.  I lifted him up and Larry maneuvered his head out from between the bars.

The bars on the feeder are wider on top and narrower to the bottom.  I am sure he was standing on his hind legs to get to the hay and slipped in and when he went down, he was then between the narrow bars.  When the feeder is full of hay, his feet rest against the pack of forage.  They had eaten almost all of the hay, so there was nothing to push him back.

We returned to the house and sat back down.  My appetite was interrupted.  I looked up at the clock and it was 8:12pm. 

I once again looked up, but toward the sky, closed my eyes, and once again thanked the universe for lighting my path.

It's Official...the Goodles are Weaned

For my dad on his birthday.

A very big day for the goodles--no bottle.

Wow, it's a little sad and also exciting as well as liberating.  Tonight I went to the barn armed only with a bag of prepared salad mix and a lot of momma love.  No bottle bucket.

Shadow and Pippin ran to the stool where I sit, used to sit, to feed them but quickly turned back when they realized I wasn't joining them.  Pippin immediately dove into the bowl with salad mix and Shadow to the feeder just stocked today with very lush and tasty Orchard Grass hay from last month's cutting at Jeff and Barb's.

They didn't seem to be affected too much by the change in routine.

My boys are getting big, growing up.  They still call out "ma'aaaa" when they scare or are unsure.  I think I still need that.

Peaceful at Times

I say "peaceful at times" because at a moment's notice, that peace can transition to chaos.

Just now, while quietly writing a new blog post, I had to jump up and run clear across the porch. Shadow was eating my lavender plant. In response to my reprimand, he comes running across the porch, up onto the chair, onto the table and then across my keyboard!

I thought for certain my laptop was doomed, yet here I sit.

Next, Pippin pulled a big branch off the plant. He runs away and when he comes back for let's kiss and make up lovin's, his breath is herb fresh. Petunias are next on the menu.

Just as I push one 50lb goat out of the front flower planter, the other 40lb one jumps in. It's a circus.

No sooner do they move on do Bodie and Pinkie come charging across the porch in their afternoon chase and scatter the hens that are sprawled out behind me, protected from the breeze.

Pippin is back, under the table, pushing it up with his budding horns. Next on to pushing the reclining lounger across the porch to getting up into it. And finally, to rest and chew cud.

Peaceful at times.

Sunday on the Ranch

It's a late Sunday afternoon with a very agreeable temperature and a mild breeze, scattered cloud cover to dull the intensity of the summer sun, clear air quality with a reported low pollen count. It's peaceful. At times.

I'm sitting on the porch, grateful for wireless internet, passively accompanying the goats, Shadow and Pippin, on their afternoon pasture browse. They are becoming quite independent, relatively speaking, but they do still keep their rectangular pupiled-eye on their momma as a reassurance that all is well.

Looking back to May 11 when I went to Jennifer and Ed's to pick up my new bottle baby goats, I knew very little about how to care for two caprine creatures let alone the energy it would take. Immediately recognizing my short-coming, I ordered three books about goats from amazon.com. Two books specific to Boer goats, the breed of the little half-brothers.

Momma goats, or dams, only have two teats. When she has three babies, which is not uncommon, it's typical that the smallest kid gets pushed off the milk by the other two and doesn't thrive. For the kid's sake, this triplet becomes a bottle baby. Goats are herd animals, so getting one bottle baby is unthinkable.

For the first four to five weeks, the little ones required feeding five times a day. This meant heating the milk to 103 - 105 degrees, preparing the Gerber baby bottles with larger rubber farm animal nipples and heading to the barn for the evolving lesson in feeding baby goats. This also meant feeding as early as 7am and as late as midnight with quality time spent just cuddling the vulnerable ones. Another meaning: limited sleep.

Shadow was born May 1 and he is named such because from the time he came home with me, he has not left my side. A constant under my feet, he is my shadow. I pondered Spirit for a while as he has the soul of many in his deeply connected eyes.

Pippin was born May 5. He was originally called Latte because of his espresso and foam coloring. We had a dickens of a time for the first few weeks; he was a little sick here and there. Diarrhea and many an anal temperature read later, I started calling him Poopy, Pip, as in pip-squeak, and later to Pippin.

As the past few months have gone by, their need for bottled milk has decreased. Going from five times a day to now which is just one at night. Even now, instead of a full 10oz bottle, they are down to just 5oz. By mid-week, they will no longer take a bottle.

It's a strange transition. I was buying six gallons of milk each week at Costco when they were at their peak consumption of about 28 - 30oz each a day. It was momentous when I got only two gallons. And just this week, I bought only a half gallon at Trader Joe's. A little sadness set in.

There came a moment when I said to myself, "Wow, these goats are really attached to me!" Then I thought about that and said, "Yes, they are." For I am their momma, their protector, their nurturer, their stall cleaner.

And they are my kids.

Photos

Top: Pippin stretched out as Cleopatra on the hay trailer as Shadow follows behind.

Middle: Learning to bottle feed. Pippin on the bottle and Shadow smiling.

Bottom: Coming out of the carrier on their first day home with me. Pippin in the forefront.

Are You Kidding?

Goodles are like poodles

But with peaberry doodles

The fun comes in oodles

GALORE!