Unlike most who send their girls off to camp, I hope mine comes back pregnant. Wearing a brand-new, bright red collar, Tessie loaded up into the back of Guy's truck next to their girl, Lottie, last evening. Instead of a sack lunch, I sent along a bale of alfalfa. Nineteen ran the fence line as his stall mate rode off, and I had to explain that she would be back, but that we probably wouldn't get postcards. Optimally, I will find a buyer for Nineteen while Tessie is away, and that will open up a stall for mama and baby(ies). His world has already been shaken by her leaving, and the transition to a new home would hopefully be easier for him now. He is a sweet boy. I wish I had space and finances to keep him. Of course, I've felt that way about all of the nearly fifty goats born here. In the meantime, we waved goodbye to Tessie, and we hope she'll have a really good time.
It was the strangest thing. When Craig and Deb brought Musashi to Farview, Craig took the time to fill in all the escape hatches that the free-range hens were using to get out of their pen. I know that those escapees were also flying over the fence to freedom. For whatever reason, when the holes they'd dug underneath weren't available, they seemed to forget they could fly and they've been contained ever since...until last night. At bedtime, there were all but one or two outside the pen. At least they remembered the drill and came pattering after me to the hen house. One doesn't think of chickens as tunnelers, but they had burrowed under the fence again. I love to see the hens on the loose, but common sense tells me they are much safer in their own yard, so I found the latest hole and blocked it. When I was a kid, I was told that if you could dig straight through the earth, you'd end up in China. The hens have dug so many pits in their yard, it looks like downtown Beirut, and I often think the girls must be going out for Chinese food. Between the goats and the chickens, the critters get out more than I do!