This little sweetheart has wormed her way into my affections in ways I never thought a goat could do. While she’ll probably never win any awards for impressive size or conformation, if she were human she would be the envy of every woman in America. This would be the girl we’d all hate because she could down three cheeseburgers and half a pizza every day and still fit in size 2 jeans.
Even though Lilly gets three all-you-can eat meals of grain a day and 24-hour access to hay, she stays thin as a rail. Yet I’m convinced she’s not unhealthy because she’s been thoroughly wormed and I’ve never seen a brighter eye or a springier step. She doesn’t walk anywhere–she runs. No, more correctly, she streaks. She’s our “Flash Gordon” goat who is here one second and 100 yards away the next. Be it the house or the truck, no door is safe. Any time one opens even a crack, Lilly is already jumping on it, even if she was on the other side of the yard before you blinked. If I were in the racing goat business, Lilly would be my prize filly. Lilly has also been honing her Ninja skills. She has a habit of running up the wall of the house and doing backflips off it. I wonder if Phil has been letting her watch Kung Fu movies?
But while she is a little ball of energy most of the time, Lilly also loves the quiet moments. If I’m chopping firewood and I sit down on a stump for a few minutes’ break, Lilly is in my lap with her head on my chest before I’m even settled. And she would likely stay there for hours if I let her. She’s a pure sweetheart, no two ways about it.
We had pumpkin pancakes at Thanksgiving, and they were very yummy. But I forgot to use up the left-over pumpkin and didn’t find it till sometime after Christmas (eeeewwww!). Nibbles thought the fuzzy green stuff on top looked festive.
But it wasn’t as festive as the end of her greedy little nose.
Lilly wanted some moldy pumpkin for her nose too, but this is where it ended up instead, thanks to Nibbles’ habit of biting Lilly’s ears whenever there is a confrontation over food.
I made this in 2009 when my colt, Skokie, was about 2 months old.
I had some heart-to-heart talks with Cuzco a couple of years later when he would come in from the pasture on three legs and with chunks torn out of his hide: “You know, Cuzco, the problem with making enemies of a baby horse is that one day he will bigger. MUCH bigger. And you’ll wish you’d made friends when you had the opportunity.”
I was really afraid Cuzco might not survive Skokie’s 2-year-old phase, but I can’t say he didn’t ask for it. Skokie tried really hard to befriend Cuzco during that first year, but he was soundly rebuffed at every turn.
I haven’t posted any photos in quite some time, but I took a ton of them today so now I don’t quite know where to start. Maybe it’s time to get back to the basics. After all, whose blog is this anyway? I took a bunch of shots of Cuzco as he was lounging in one of his favorite spots. He always looks like such a monarch, sitting up there on his hilltop, surveying his domain with a critical eye. I tried several times to get him to look at me, but I was clearly not important enough to deserve so much as a cursory glance. I call this collection “Portrait of an Old Goat”.