Doggone It

I noticed when I walked down to the goat barn that Ginger wasn't pacing in front of the chicken pen as she usually does, waiting for me to open the gate, but once in awhile she'd be on the trail of a juicy bug and I'd have to wait for her.  I was uneasy, but not too concerned.  The last remnants of rain clouds made for a beautiful sunset and took my attention.

Since Bessie's hearing has gone wonky, she misses when a truck comes up the drive or someone is knocking.  I can't tell how many times she'd hear things that wouldn't be there, but I'd always go to the door to show her that all was okay.  Yesterday I was on a telephone call when Bess started barking and I ignored her.  This time it was not a false alarm.  After the goats, I went on giving nighttime treats and putting the little kids to bed, still looking for Ginger, when I saw Bess nosing on the slope behind the pen.  I can assume it was a coyote that took my littlest girl.  The trail of feathers led down to the woods.  It is the time of year for the pups to be born and a mom was probably looking for food.  Ginger was easy pickings.  I had explained the dangers to her and she chose not to listen.  I thought I'd helped protect her by having Helper Dude cut back the tall weeds that would hide a hunter.  I knew she could fly and there were plenty of hidey holes for her to escape.  I am really going to miss the patter of little feet behind me and hearing her tell tales of her daily doings.  She had a short life, but a happy one.