Party Animals

Around 4:00, the goats start begging for grain. They act as though they haven’t eaten in weeks. I’m used to this, and I’m afraid the neighbors are, too. Wednesday afternoon, however, the wails were coming from the wrong direction. As I approached the barn, I saw four little heads stuck through the gate to the granary pen, on the opposite side of the barn from the goats’ pen. Instead of begging for food, they seemed to be crying, “Help, we’re lost, and we want to go home!”

I went to the back of the barn and found that the 40 MPH winds we’d been having had pulled up a metal panel on the lean-to. The opening was just big enough for the goats to climb through, with a little effort. They had come through but couldn’t figure out how to get back. Since Don was out of town, I propped the panel closed with a couple of rocks, opened the door to the lean-to, and led the wayward flock back to their pen. They seemed relieved.

Half an hour later, they were back in the granary pen. The rocks were no match for the wind, and the goats couldn’t resist stepping through the looking glass once again. Since they didn’t seem to be trying to get through the electric fence (they’re used to wire mesh), I decided there was no harm letting stay with the donkeys. I opened the lean-to door so that they could get back to their stall in the barn for the night and called it good. The donkeys were thrilled to have access to the lush grass in the goat pasture (the goats have a hard time keeping up in the spring).

Thursday morning, I kept checking to make sure the goats hadn’t escaped the electric fence to make a meal of the neighbors’ shrubs. All was fine. Everyone was behaving. When I returned from having lunch with some friends, I thought I’d better look one more time. As I walked to the barn, donkey Anna Belle was the only one in sight, munching contentedly on the goats’ grass.

I opened the barn door and found four donkeys and four goats partying hardy. They were running up and down the aisles and through the stanchions, knocking things off the shelves, and climbing on hay bales. This was an “E” ticket…the most fun they’d had in a long time! They were the houseguests from Hell.

The Dutch door that connects the lean-to with the back of the barn was wide open. The goats must have jumped against it until both latches flipped open. I’m sure the donkeys have new respect for their caprine cousins.

Kill-joy that I am, I coaxed the goats back into their stall (they’ll do anything for grain) and herded the donkeys out by banging the shovel on the concrete (they won’t do anything for anything, but loud noises get their attention).

Don got home Thursday afternoon and fixed the panel. Push-overs that we are, we decided to let the goats keep their freedom and hope for the best. There was always the possibility that I hadn’t latched the door tightly, and the goats are great weed-eaters. They’d clean up the donkey pasture.

Friday morning I hit the garage sale circuit and took Cadi to the vet. When we returned before lunch, I got the mail, put the eggs out for sale in the cooler, and then thought I’d better check on the hooligans. I opened the door, and, this time, all nine were ransacking the place. Someone had knocked the bag of treats off the shelf and chewed a hole through the bag. They were like kids in a candy store!

After shooing them all out once more, I closed the goats back in their pen. Enough fun. They had a good thing going, but they pushed too far. I think they were actually happy to be restricted again. Freedom brings too much temptation.

I Dig Dandelions...by the Bucketful

A strange topic for a first posting, but what the heck. It's spring on the farm, and that means our lawn is marked by bright yellow asterisks. As a proud tree-hugger, I hate to resort to chemical control. Luckily, my dear husband brought a dandelion digger to the marriage six years ago.

Now, understand that, growing up, our lawn was thick with dandelions, and we didn't care. It would have been deemed a waste of time to try to fight them. Besides, they "went away" by summer. Out of sight, out of mind. Our lawn was lucky if it got mowed once a week (and we cursed it then).

Don introduced me to a new philosophy of lawn care. The lawn is mowed multiple times a week, and dandelions aren't welcome. In fact, here in the Midwest, you can be fined for growing "noxious weeds" on your property. At least, that's what Don tells me. So I have a new appreciation for a dandelion-free landscape.

Don introduced me to the digger a few years ago, but I didn't get hooked until last year. This year, I'm downright compulsive about getting the little buggers. The digger is a two-pronged fork on a wooden handle that you use to pry the plants (tap root and all, if you're good) out of the ground. It's ultra-low-tech, environmentally responsible, and immensely satisfying.

There's nothing like spotting a lush, dinner-plate-sized dandelion and popping it out of the earth. Talk about instant gratification. The result is a clean slate for the grass to fill in, now that it's freed from the grip of the aggressive alien.

My mission is to clear the lawn all around the house of the unwelcome wildflowers (I'm not crazy enough to think I can make a dent by the barn). An overwhelming task, but I have a strategy. I go for the flowering ones every day. I figure that keeps them from multiplying, and eventually I'll get them all. So, I get a bucket or two daily, and the goats gladly destroy the evidence.

The only problem is, I've become obsessed by dandelions. I daydream about bagging the big ones. I'm tempted to bring the digger on my morning walk, to get those obnoxious ones on the side of the road. I'm constantly scanning for yellow dots on the landscape. I'm sure the neighbors are talking about me, as they twirl their index fingers beside their heads.

As obsessions go, I guess there are worse, and I don't have to worry about running out of targets soon. I just hope I'm not driven to fermenting the cursed intruders and losing myself in the dandelion wine. Admitting you have a problem is the first step toward recovery, right?