"Here comes the sun..." (Beatles, Abbey Road, 1969). Bess and I spent most of yesterday sitting on the deck in the sunshine. Down in the front meadow, a doe and her fawns grazed in the warmth. Narcissus happily crooned to his reflection in the chrome. The chickens spent the day scratching in their yard and the goats went from pen to pen, filling up on green grass. It truly was a day to "enjoy it while it's here," because it is raining again this morning. Sigh.
Who would have thought that goats have such distinctive personalities? Tessie has developed a tendency to tarry. In the ordinary daily lineup, Inga comes in first, followed by Sheila. The other three are loose in the pen by that time, and Esther inevitably is waiting at the door for Sheila to come out. It's a toss-up whether Cindy or Tessie comes in next; usually it's Cindy. Tessie ambles down from the alfalfa in the corner, and then we play the waiting game. "Come on, Tessie. Come on in and get your breakfast." "Well, maybe I will and maybe I won't." She will come toward the door and then walk right past. She will come to the door and put her head inside and then back away. "Tessie! Get your fuzzy butt in here so we can finish the chores!" "What's your hurry?" In disgust, I shut the door and gather the rake and shovel to move on. "Fine. Just go without your cereal then. See if I care whether your bag overfills." As soon as I'm ready to start cleaning stalls, Tessie stands on her hind legs to look over the half-door. "Hey! What about me?" And, of course, I put down the tools and let her in. There was a movie called "Reindeer Games." Someone should make a film named "Goat Games," with Tessie in the starring role.