Love Letters From Ladybug Farm - Donna Ball [46]
Bridget cried again, “Rebel!”
The dog, as usual, ignored her. Herding the goat as he would a sheep, cutting and turning, lunging and crouching, he pushed the terrified creature in an erratic pattern across the yard, heading toward the edge of the woods. Bridget shouted and chased after him.
Lindsay looked at Cici, “What is she doing?”
“Gone plumb crazy is what,” Ida Mae replied. She raised her voice. “Let that critter go! Get it on out of here!”
Bridget cut to the east of Rebel, shouting and waving her arms at him. The goat swung suddenly toward her and she dodged out of the way just in time.
“She’s going to get trampled,” Cici worried, and ran after them.
Chickens squawked and feathers flew as Rebel chased the goat past the chicken yard, and Bridget, with big scooping motions of her arms, managed to turn it toward the barn. Cici raced ahead and swung open the barnyard gate. Rebel cut to the right, and then to the left, and the goat, bleating in agitation, trotted right through the gate. Cici slammed the gate shut and latched it, then leaned against it, breathing hard, as Bridget caught up to her.
“Thanks,” Bridget gasped. Then to Rebel, who was sniffing curiously through the wire fence, “Good work. Good dog.”
Cici stared at her. “Good dog? Are you kidding me?”
Bridget bent over with her hands on her knees, catching her breath.
Lindsay trotted up. “Did you catch him? Where is he?”
Bridget managed, “Her.” She gestured to the barnyard.
Lindsay’s gaze followed her hand. “What are you going to do with it?” she asked, ever practical.
Cici said, “Good question.”
The three of them turned to watch the goat, which, having apparently forgotten the recent trauma, explored its new surroundings at a leisurely pace, occasionally plucking up a mouthful of scrubby grass. Rebel, bored with prey he could not reach and always quick to show his disdain for humans, streaked off in search of other adventures.
Bridget said, “It’s kind of cute, isn’t it?”
Lindsay said firmly, “Someone is missing a goat. I’ll call the radio station.”
“And the newspaper,” Cici added.
Bridget said, “I’ll get her some hay.”
“What if no one claims it?” Lindsay worried, and Cici gave her a sharp warning look.
Bridget’s expression glowed with delight. “Then we have a goat,” she exclaimed, beaming. “A beautiful nanny goat!”
“You got yourselves a peck of trouble, that’s what you got,” Ida Mae declared, coming up behind them. “And you’re gonna have some sour milk tonight, too, with all that running and jumping around. You better hope somebody claims it before milking time.”
The three women stared at her. “Milk?” Cici said. “We have to milk it?”
Lindsay put both her hands in the air firmly. “Don’t look at me.”
“I am not milking a goat,” Cici declared unequivocally. “I don’t even like goats. Why are we talking about this? We’re not keeping this goat!”
Bridget chewed her bottom lip. “Well, I suppose I could learn.” She turned hopefully to Ida Mae. “Is it hard to milk a goat?”
Ida Mae threw up her hands and stalked away, muttering, “Worthless damn women...”
Bridget smiled and leaned on the fence, surveying the new resident. “A goat,” she said. “Imagine that.”
8
Rising to the Occasion
From “Ladybug Farm Charms,” a blog by Bridget Tyndale
According to the American Dairy Goat Association, a dairy goat averages 3-4 quarts of milk per day during its ten months of lactation. More people drink goat’s milk throughout the world than cow’s milk and those who do should be much healthier. Goat’s milk averages only 3.5% butterfat, and is much more easily digestible than cow’s milk. Additionally, the natural homogenization process of goat’s milk is much less likely to cause certain undesirable side effects, such as high cholesterol, that artificially processed cow’s milk does in humans.
Goats thrive best when allowed to graze a half acre or more of pasture grasses and weeds. They are curious and naturally agile, and do not like to be confined. Strongfences are