There are times I find myself chanting, "Come on, menopause," to the goat goddess in charge of caprine hormones, even though I know that goats never get too old. The girls are cycling again and are more interested in sex than eating. All I want to do is finish feeding, milking, and cleaning stalls, but during these exercises in frustration (mine and theirs) I spend a lot of time trying to break one or the other's concentration to coax them into the milking room. Yesterday, it was Inga in the grip. Again. She never did come in for breakfast. The one good thing is that estrus lasts only a short while, maybe two days, in each goat. The unfortunate aspect is that the girls tend to come into heat at different times so this "looking for love in all the wrong places" gets stretched out over a couple of weeks. Aaargh.
Linda found her very own helper dude and they came in the morning to load up the dining room table that came with the chairs I wanted. I was down in the barn, so didn't see them leave with the table tied upside down to the top of her vehicle. Just as well. She told me later that it was a scary, scary drive home, but all's well that ends well, and we're both satisfied with our purchases.
A trip into town was on the agenda, and not even that could spoil the glorious, sunshiny day. Rain is predicted for the end of the week, and I've learned to appreciate the good days when they come. I know better than to cruise down certain aisles at Walmart, but.... Ended up splurging on a DVD, "The Martian," and Jonathan Kellerman's latest book, "Motive." I might have passed on the movie, but I have no self-control in the book aisle.
Back at home later, a car drove up and a very distraught woman got out. She was spreading the word in the neighborhood that two large dogs had just killed one of her alpacas and mauled another in front of her eyes and she was helpless to stop them, another case of dogs allowed to run free and pack up. I wish the animals' owners could have seen this poor lady's anguish and tears. Up here, those of us with livestock know the danger of coyotes and mountain lions, but the scariest times are when "pets" go rogue.
Milk Guy came and went. I've been unable to supply him with eggs the last two weeks, but could sell a dozen yesterday because the little girls finally settled down to business and I've been picking up three and four a day. Inga could take a lesson. That Inga.