Goats!

I solemnly swear that I am not going to come home with a baby goat anytime soon.  Really.  Seriously.  Instead, I’m living that side of the fibery life through someone with their very own fiber farm.  I arrive, I help, I come back home and pass out from exhaustion.

It seems we were so helpful at the last goat shearing event, that the owners of the fiber farm invited us back to help out with shearing the last of the goats in residence.  Yay!  So we bundled up in layers – it was threatening rain, of course – packed our hot caffeinated beverages, and headed over to the farm.

Cathy got some good photos of me in action.  Getting dirty is a gorgeous job.  (Not so much.)

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We were having a heart to heart (nose to nose) talk about the importance of keeping one’s ears and eyes out of the way of the scissors while I was trimming his face.  Look at those beautiful ringlets!  This one grew a nice spinning fleece.  For the goat labeled “doesn’t like people,” he was amazingly friendly during most of his health and beauty time.  Really, he just didn’t like being caught, hauled up onto a table, and subjected to the electric shears.  The whole thing is very undignified!

Meanwhile…

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Curious fuzzy nose meets exposed sensitive skin of the back.  Hey, that tickles!

My new trick to learn this outing was to try holding one of the girls upside down while the shearers trimmed up the legs and sensitive areas.  This lady was the best for this training session, since she immediately settled down when we flipped her.  She was so relaxed at one point that she almost fell asleep!

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Not everyone got this relaxed while on the table.  I got really good at dodging those back hooves while wielding the scissors in the ticklish inner thighs and lower belly.  Yes, even goats have tickle spots.

You know we’re coming back to help out at the spring shearing, right?

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Hopefully then we’ll get to cuddle some baby goats!  Most of the ladies we handled were getting ready for their date with the guys.  The owners are hoping for several births next spring.

(I will not adopt a baby goat.  I will not adopt a baby goat…)

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