The way to a goat's heart is through her stomach, that's for sure. The herd has evidently assigned Sheila the last place in line and she has accepted that, but it took just the one time thinking she wasn't going to get breakfast at all to bring her right to the door again yesterday. The "chase me" game is well and truly over, and I won!
Inga is playing a game of her own. Tessie has been able to spook Inga off the stand by giving a warning "danger" snort. (Inga spooks easily at just about everything.) Lately Inga has tired of waiting for her breakfast and tries a snort of her own to hurry the girl on the stand, but she doesn't speak with the same authority and it's not working for her. It's obvious from her expression that she doesn't understand why.
There are, of course, the constant residents year round: sparrows, wrens, red-tail hawks, and the maintenance crew of vultures. The ones that catch attention are the migrants, the here-today, gone-tomorrow birds. The bird of the moment is the Steller's Jay (I used think it was "stellar"). This raucous, flashy bird showed up in large numbers yesterday, loudly announcing its arrival and staking out its territory. Hopping along on the deck rail, peering in the windows with beady eyes, and showing off its black crest, it lords it over its lowlier cousins, the scrub jays. Even its blue is bluer, more iridescent in sunlight, than the scrubs. The ever-present barn sparrows are willing to wait until I'm through milking for their grain (not really put out for them; it's the goats' nighttime treat), but the Steller's come to the wire-covered window openings and screech at me to hurry up! Like Inga, it doesn't work for them, either.
She who controls the feed bucket wins!