Friday, November 21, 2014
Give Me A Sign
Cold and overcast all day, the rain didn't come until after 3:00, but then it poured. I hate to put the goats in the barn too early because they can't get to water so I hesitated to go out. Then I realized they wouldn't go in the rain even if they wanted a drink. Bess had enough sense to stay in the house when I geared up and trekked outside. The girls nearly ran me down in their rush to get inside. I don't need a sign to tell me that goats hate rain.
Ginger had taken refuge under the feed barn. She stayed there while I shut the door to the Taj for the Silkies, but got worried when I headed to the big hen house. Obviously wishing she had a newspaper to hold over her head, she made a dash across the way like a fussy lady crossing the road and went under the coop to get out of the rain. Afraid she would get left out in the dark, Ginger finally ran zig-zagging past me to get to the gate. "Let me in! Let me in-let me in-let me in!" Once inside, she shook like a dog and fluffed her feathers, joining the flock who'd stayed dry all day.
All those poor turkeys were huddled under the manzanita and whatever relief they could find under the nearly denuded oaks, shoulders hunched against the rain. They needed a sign pointing to the live oaks that said, "This way to dry shelter."
The wood stove had been cranked up all day and the warm house sure felt good when I came back, dripping wet and chilled. Bessie, Celeste, and Ralph took their assigned places on my lap and legs. It's nice to get a little help from my friends.