Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘humour’

Hubby was checking out the not-quite-fenced-yet buck yard this afternoon, and found a hole.  Apparently quite a large hole, running straight down alongside one of the fenceposts we recently installed.  He beat a quick retreat, and came into the house to ask me what I thought might have dug such a hole.

 

“A badger, probably” I replied.

 

“So, what am I supposed to do about that?” Hubby asked.

 

“I don’t know.  Try filling the hole in.  If whatever’s in there digs it out again overnight, we’ll figure out some more drastic measures.”

 

“But what if it really IS a badger?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“I mean, it might leap out of the hole and savage my leg…”

 

“Then hit it with the shovel,” I replied.

 

Hubby does not seem to understand that badgers are not much bigger than a large cat, or maybe a Jack Russel Terrier.  He seems to think that they are carnivorous creatures that are large enough to tear your leg off.  Hubby is currently reading me internet an internet article about how to get rid of badgers, and apparently placing lion dung around the mouth of their burrow will chase them off.

 

“See,” Hubby says, “They ARE dangerous.  That’s what they’re scared of…lions.  Lions!

 

He just doesn’t want to admit that he’s afraid.  Perhaps I will have to shame him by going out and filling in the hole myself…

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

Randy Goats

Blood seems to happen a lot here on the Acreage.

 

Hubby has been working like mad to finish the buck yard before the does go into heat, so that we can control the birthdays of the kids – with a five-month gestation, breeding now will mean February kids, and I would rather shoot for May – February is usually still awfully cold, up here.  However, there has been one hitch after another, including a truck purchase that fell through, and the desperate need for more fencing materials.  We’re almost there…but not quite done yet.

 

I have been moving the milking times closer and closer together, with the intent of milking only once a day, in the evening when I get home from work.  Today was the first day of only milking once.  I came home from work, changed, and wandered out to the barn.  Saffron, my milker, was pretty happy to see me, and gave me a “where have you been?” bleat.   Saf had a bit of blood on her, on her tail and back leg.  ‘Oh, darn,’ I thought, ‘the buck’s torn a horn scur off again’.  The buck’s de-horning procedure was not entirely successful, and he has these little hornlets that are growing, but they are fragile, and he often catches or bumps them, with much blood resulting.  It does not seem to bother him in the slightest, though, so all we do is monitor them for infection.  After milking, I went to put Saffron back in the yard, but the buck was hovering around the gate, being a nuisance.  However, there was no sign of blood, and his little horn scurs were about the same length as I remembered.  I was a little mystified.   Then I noticed that Missy’s back end was covered in blood.

 

Uh-oh.

 

I went to go collect Missy, but she was being particularly skittish, and did not want to be caught.  Saffron and the baby girls were also trying to help, or at least trying to get in on the game.  Apparently somebody is in heat, as the buck spent the whole time chasing all of us girls around, hanging out a great big erection the whole time.   Yup, it’s a regular three-ring circus around my place, let me tell you…

 

Eventually, I caught Missy, and managed to fend the buck off long enough to see that there are no major gashes or wounds.  I did not quite get my leg humped, but it was a close thing.

 

Satisfied that nobody was going to die in the next ten minutes, I went inside to cozy up with my buddy google, and wouldn’t you know it, but some goat does bleed when they come into heat.

 

I guess we’re looking at February babies, after all…

 

Read Full Post »

Our Big Dog, Cherry, will eat almost anything.  That includes normal stuff like meat, eggs, carrots, and the like, but she does not hesitate at oranges, mints, lemons, and other things that dogs are not supposed to like at all.   This also includes all sorts of things not normally classed as food, such as tin can lids, plastic cucumber wrappers, used kitty litter, and, most recently, half a box of tampons.

 

When we came home, discovered the remains, and finally figured out what all she had eaten, we briefly considered taking Cherry to the vet.  However, from a colleague’s recent experience, we know that abdominal surgery on a large dog costs more than our car did, so we discarded that idea pretty quickly, deciding instead to monitor her condition and see what passed (or, put bluntly, got crapped out) in the next day or two.   Based on all the other stuff she has eaten that has passed with shockingly little fuss, we felt that it was a reasonable decision.

 

By day three, she had only passed one tampon…we think.  It is difficult to tell, and, given what everything was embedded in, we weren’t really keen to do a whole lot of poking around.  She was throwing up almost every day, and seemed a little droopy overall, but did not seem to be in any pain, and was still perky enough to bugger off chasing squirrels in the bush, so we held our ground and did not take her to the vet.

 

By day five, she had passed a couple more, but nowhere near as many as we figured she’d eaten.  Still droopy, and still puking a lot, but still not in pain, and not so miserable that she quit being an annoyance in the kitchen when I was trying to get some canning done.  We continued to wait.

 

On day seven, we were again out of the house…this time, having carefully blocked off the garbage cans, kitty litter, and the like with baby gates.  We normally do this, as if it’s not one dog, it’s the other, but last week we just plain forgot.

 

When we got home, we discovered that Cherry had finally found a way to get all of the remaining tampons out.  They must have been sitting in her stomach, too expanded and tangled together to pass through the rest of her system.  There was puke from one end of the livingroom to the other, little piles of tampon all over the place.  It was disgusting.  We need to clean our carpets.

 

On the bright side, our Big Dog is back to being a Big Nuisance, and I have to admit, we were more worried than we were admitting, so both Hubby and I are feeling quite relieved.

 

You know, though, any life event that includes a dog eating tampons should be funnier than that in the end…

Read Full Post »

Welcome, Skye!

Well, Monday was an interesting day.  Our doeling, Silly, as you may remember, has a deformity called spur teat, which makes her impossible to milk, and might make it impossible for her to raise young.  The breeder has been fantastic about the whole situation, and immediately offered to replace her, though he indicated he did not want her back.  Well, Monday, the replacement came.

 

I got an e-mail late on Saturday night, informing me that the breeder was sending the new doeling back from Alberta with a fellow breeder who lives about an hour from our house.  He asked if we had big plans for Monday.  We said ‘no’.  The breeder sent a phone number for us to make pick-up arrangements.  Sunday, we called the number, and got the lady’s husband, who was completely unaware of the whole situation, though he did resignedly comment that, well, this happens a lot in his family.  However, he and his wife both worked Monday, so could we please come before 8 am?

 

Monday morning found us on the road a little later than we would have liked, though we still made it in plenty of time.  We were a little nervous about the whole deal, as we do not have any appropriate way to transport goats, whatsoever.  Not even a big dog crate, which is what the doeling came to Saskatchewan in.  We improvised, putting an extra-large rubbermaid container (open, no lid) in the back seat with a bit of hay in the bottom, and bringing along a leash and a small collar.  We braced ourselves for it to be quite the ride back home.

 

Actually, though, the new doeling, named Skye, was pretty calm about the whole thing.  Hubby sat in the back seat with her, holding the leash, while I drove, and he made sure she stayed in the container.  She hardly struggled or made any noise at all. In fact, she rode better in the car than Foxy the Dog does.

 

I expected a lot of funny looks, boogying down the highway in a Saturn sportscar with a goat in the back seat, but apparently the local commuters are not that aware first thing in the morning.  The only double-take came from the cashier at the drive-through when we stopped in town to get coffee on the last leg home.  Even she did not notice until we were pulling away, but then she stuck her head out the drive-through window to see if she had seen right.  I got the giggles right about then.  I think most people thought we had a dog in the back.

 

Skye was introduced to the rest of the barnyard with minimal fuss, though she is still pretty wary of the alpacas.   Silly seems to know that Skye was sent to take her place, though, and has been pretty mean when she thinks the Humans are not watching.

 

But of course, all you want is the cute goat picture…

 

Welcome, Skye!

Read Full Post »