The time has come for the baby goats to go to their new homes.
It seems crazy that this short little phase of the farm is already over. Wasn’t it just yesterday I was neurotically checking out the living room window with binoculars to see if the Mamas were in labor? Bundling up in the middle of the night to check for signs of babies? Counting down the hours at work until I could be back home to snuggle with them? Then BAM! Just like that, they’re ready to leave and I’m covered in poison ivy from playing with them in the woods. The end of BGT (Baby Goat Time) leads to the hot, hazy days of summer with my main herd. Now consisting of 6 Mama’s and Future Mama’s, Rocco the Buck, and Fergus the Wether.
I stood outside for a bit last night in a cloud of gnats trying to come up with some sentimental parting words, but alas, they are goats, and they weren’t really listening anyway. And most of what I had to say was profanity at the Gnat Cloud.
I will probably stop now before I get too weird wondering if they would ever remember me if they saw me again or if they’ll ever think about me and wonder where I went.
As the farming years go by, however, I just realize more and more how there is a season for everything and each one comes and goes with it’s ebb and flows and sometimes I make rhymes explaining the times.