My lady built a goat hut

Hi!  Hi hi hi!  It's meeee!  Lucky Nickel!  Did you miss me?!  It has been a very long time since my lady paid any attention to the blog.  She has been so busy with a lot of things, and then her Maaa-aaa and her Paaa-aaa came to visit us.  It was so nice to have them visit, even if her Paaaa-aaa did call me a nuisance.  I swear I was only helping him with the gardening!!  He said I was "getting in the way" and kept saying "Shooo" and waving his arms around.  I thought he was a little bit grumpy with me but I think he hasn't had enough goat experience to notice how helpful I really am.

My lady is a little bit sad this afternoon because she took her Maaa-aaa and Paaa-aaa to the airpost so they could be put into a big box and wrapped up with some tape and sent back to their home.  I do not know why they want to travel by post.  I think that's kind of strange.  I see the postman come by all the time with envelopes and packages.  He seems nice enough, so maybe they like the postman.  Anyway, after she took them to the airpost, she came home and did something to busy herself so she would not be sad.  Look at what she did!

She built a hut.  For goats!  BUT NOT FOR ME!!!!  She built it for those OTHER goats that live here.  I am not impressed.  But then I realized, she is building them a hut.  She is going to build me a goatominium.  It's like a whole house but just for ME!  She was practicing with the hut.  I am sure my goatominium will be much more fancy.  She put the other goats up in the garden area to eat all the remaining weeds and other stuff that was all overgrown and jungle-like in the garden.  They don't usually live up there, but she said they would be there for a few weeks, and they needed a shelter in case it rained.

Anyway, she used a cattle panel (I guess it is really a goatle panel) and then she covered it with a tarpoline.  A tarpoline is like a big sheet of plastic and it keeps the rain out.  You can also bounce on it, but my lady didn't seem to know that.  She said I was confused.  She is so scatterbrained sometimes.  You can buy them in all different sizes, she said, but this one was 10 feet by 20 feet.  She could put it over in 2 layers for extra protection.  She used some tea-posts for holding the goatle panel.  They don't taste like tea, but she said that is what they are.  I had to stick around to supervise because of course she gets into trouble when she is building stuff sometimes.  See this bruise she is getting on her ankle - she did that yesterday.  She's such a klutz.

She said I was a mess.  Can you imagine?   I don't know what she means.  I did some decorating with some pretty plants I found in the woods the other day.  See my pretty fur?  My lady says they are burrs.  She says they are hard to get out.  Well that's the POINT!  They are decorative!

Anyway, I'm getting distracted from talking about the hut.  After she built the hut, the other goats came to check it out.  Here are Misky (left) and Opal (front) pretending to look elsewhere, but secretly checking out the hut.

Then Opal did neck rolls and looked at the sky a lot.  She's kind of odd like that.  She does it a lot when there is something new going on.  I think it's a nervous reaction.  Silly Opal.

Then, she got really brave, and decided to check it out.  Misky is still pretending not to notice it.

After Opal deemed it to be appropriate, Coffee came over to check it out with Larke and Misky together.  By then, Opal was right inside the hut.  My lady says Opal looks a bit rotund.  I am not sure what she means by that.  One day, Opal did a sneaky thing and got into the pen with the boy goats.  My lady didn't know how long she was in there, but she said it was probably "long enough."  I don't know long enough for what, but she has this worried look on her face when she looks at Opal.  She says if it was "long enough" then there could be new, unexpected and unintended goats here in December.  I don't  know where they would come from.  I think sometimes my lady has some serious hallucinations.

I was kind of bored by the behavior of the other goats because they are so timid and pathetic because they are afraid of a silly hut, so I was just standing around eating yummy things.  When I was building the hut with my lady, I was jumping in and out of it and trying to get on top of it and everything, so I don't know what those goats were so worried about.

So then ALL the other goats came over to see the hut.  Opal was inside, Horton and his mom, Lotus were outside, and then Coffee was there with her daughters, Misky and Larke.  

Larke gets bored easily, so then she went off and got into the garden bed.  She thinks she's pretty.

After that, Opal lay down in the hut and then everybody approved.

So my lady said she felt better about the goats being in the garden patch now that they had a good place to sleep and stay out of the rain, if it ever rains here again, which is doubtful at the moment.  We goats do dislike being wet, so it's good that they are protected.  Personally, I have the whole barn while I wait for my goatominium to be built.  Right now I'm busy choosing my wall colours and my tile patterns.  See you soon!

I was hacked....

A quick blog post to apologize profusely to anyone who received a fake email from me this morning claiming that I was in the UK and had been mugged and was looking for money.  This is a fairly common scam these days, but some may not have recognized it as such.  My gmail account was hacked and it took me about an hour to work through the details with Google and now it's back to rights, but my entire list of contacts got the scam email. 

The hacker had set up a forwarding address from within my gmail so any responses (like, "Claire, is that really you?") would have gone immediately to the hacker themselves, and they could have responded and told you where to send money.  I trust nobody sent money....please no....

Anyway, the hacker also deleted my entire contacts list from gmail, so I may be missing some email addresses and will have to rebuild it slowly.

One interesting thing I've learned in this mess is that hackers are now using the security questions that one sets for recovering access.  For example, if your security question is "What city were you born in?" and your answer is a known city name, you may be in trouble.  Hackers can run lists of cities through these things and just hit on people's accounts by accessing their security answers, rather than needing to figure out passwords (which are usually more complex than the security answers).  So, it's been recommended to me that security questions should either be the "make your own" type (which are not always offered) or, if you have a limited number of options, come up with a nonsensical answer.  So if the city question is the one you pick, answer it with something that wouldn't be on a list of cities.  Like....10sheep! or something similar.  You can use such an answer for any security question that you don't set yourself, and it's much harder to hack.

Anyway, again I apologize if you got an email from me, and I'm fine, and I haven't been mugged.

Just wait until I get my hands on those goats who hacked my computer!

Am I an "A" or a "B" or a "C" pygora?

Well naturally, I'm an "A" in most everything, because I am Lucky Nickel, goat extraordinaire!  To be honest, I'm pretty much an A+ in everything.  Or even multiple plus signs!  But my lady Claire said that today we are talking about my fibre.  She also said that some people spell it fiber, especially people where we live now, and other people spell it fibre, like in Canada where she used to live, and other countries.  So I am going to spell it fybur, because that is the goat spelling, and I thought you should know.

I am a special goat because I am a pygora.  I thought before that my lady was all confused with these really scary jungle snakes that can crush you, but they are pythagor....um...phyto...errrrr....pythagorums.  Yes, that is it, and they are entirely different.  This is a pythagorum picture that my lady found for me online and you can see the photo credit for it in the lower right corner.  She didn't take it herself.

Anyway, pygora goats have one parent who is an angora goat, and one parent who is a pygmy goat.  In my case, my Dad is the angora (his name is Valentino) and my mom, Puffin, was the pygmy, but she died when she had me and that's why Claire is sort of my mom.  See the resemblance?  I am giving her goat kisses.

Pygora goats can have one of three types of fybur - either type A, type B or type C.  Clearly a goat did not choose these designations because they are meaningless and silly.  Now I have to explain to you what each type is because they are nothing to do with letters.  You humans really are quite inefficient.  You are also not good at cleaning your ears, so I have to clean my lady's ear for her, like this.

Type A fybur is most like pure angora goat.  It is up to 6 inches long and it hangs in curly locks.  It is a fine mohair fybur.

Type B fybur is a blend of the pygmy undercoat and the angora mohair.  It is between 3 and 6 inches long and is also curly.  It can be shiny or matte finish and is the most common fleece type.

Type C fybur is a very fine fybur with no luster and 1 to 3 inches long.  It looks coarse in comparison to fybur that is type A or B.

The problem is, my lady isn't quite sure which one I am.  She looked at my fybur today and she says I am getting a LOT more than I had before.  She says I'm getting a thick undercoat.  Here are some pictures of my fybur.  I don't think I am a C.  I think I am a B.

I guess I am getting the undercoat because it's getting cooler outside.  We looked at Horton too.  He is my half brother.  He was born 2 weeks ahead of me and she says his fybur is getting a little bit of a curly look on the tips.  All summer he was smooth, just like me.  Now we are both getting fluffy.  Here is Horton:

...and here is me....

We both look fluffy but his tips are more curly, but like I said, he is 2 weeks older.

Misky and Larke are my half sisters and they come from my dad, but their mom is a mini Nubian.  They are not getting any fluffy bits.  You can see them in the background, with Lotus and her son Horton in the front.  That is their mom, Coffee, to the left - she is mostly black.  They are both white.  Opal is hiding behind Coffee.

So my lady said we would ask the "blogosphere" if they can help us decide what I am.  She says maybe we don't know yet because maybe my fleece will get curly as it gets longer.  I already know but I'm not telling her because it is more fun that way, don't you think?  I think she likes mysteries.  But she loves goat kisses...see?

Goatie kisses to everybody, and please tell my lady if I am A, B, or C.  Thank you!

My lady has been sick

Yes, it's true.  She has brontosaurus.  It's a thing that happens in your chest, so you cough all the time.  Maybe it's bronchosaurus.  Well anyway, she had it.  She still does.  It's dreadful.  She keeps having coughing fits, and she says it's hard to breathe.  Can you imagine?  I'm glad I'm a goat because I'm not susceptible to bronchosaurus, so she can't give it to me.  She still kisses me, even with this brontochestus thing going on.  I'm not sure if that's really very good, but she says I make her happy, so I guess I will let her kiss me anyway.  She's my mom, after all.  (Well, she's my adoptive mom, but she loves me like a real mom and that's all that matters).

Since she has been sick with the bronchiowhatsit all week, I have to do the blog again.  It's okay - I like doing the blog.  I know that all of you, my adoring fans, also like it when I do the blog.  Today, I am going to tell you about what I do in the barn.  I live in the barn, you know.  It's because the other goats don't like me.  Obviously it's because they know I'm clearly superior to them.  She has tried to put me in with them a whole bunch of times, but every time I either get out on my own, or she has to rescue me.  So, I live in the barn with the chickens.  It's more appropriate anyway, since I grew up in the proper house.  I still don't know why I can't just live in the proper house.  Sometimes my lady lets me in the house for treats.  I get special goat treats.  She says they are "dog treats" that are vegetarian ones with no meat - they are peanut butter and cinnamon flavour.  I like them very much, even though I am not a dog.

Anyway, here are some pictures of me demonstrating to you the good life that I have in the barn.  Here I am with one of my feathered friends.  We like to be in the hay mountain.

I know that you think I'm just standing on a hay bale, but really, I am waaaaay up high!

Did you think that I didn't go higher?  Well, you were wrong!!!

I am very good at climbing Hay Mountain.  When I get up there, I like to choose the best bits of hay.  It helps me grow my best coat.  My lady says that my pythona coat is coming in and it's really soft and silky.  Wait, is it pythona?  Maybe it's pythagorus?  Well it's because my Dad is an angora goat. Anyway, enough of that.

See, here I am about to take a leap to the next level of Hay Mountain.

Hey!  Don't look at my bum!  That's not at all polite!!  I am a very demure and dainty goat and nobody should look at my bum!  I can't believe my lady took a picture like this.

Here I'm showing you how to eat the tasty bits of hay from the best bale.

Sometimes you have to use your hoof to get out the best bits.  Like this....(don't mind the hens, they're just decorative).

Then you just eat the best bits once you have them fished out.

Any questions?  Let me know!  Otherwise, I'll just be eating hay and waiting for the brontosaurus to go away.    Send healthy vibes to my lady.  She sounds terrible.  Like her lungs might pop at any minute....

Let's talk about eggs

No doubt many of you have heard the news by now - at least if you live in this part of the world.  Iowa's egg industry has been responsible for some really nasty illnesses lately.  Mind you, this is not a problem with my eggs!  No way!  I have been eating eggs from my hens for over 2 years now, and have never had any sort of gastro-intestinal problem. In fact, you know what?!  I keep my eggs ON THE COUNTER!  That's right - not in the refrigerator!  Oh, the shock!  The travesty!  The shame!!!

Let's take a minute, shall we....to learn about the egg-straordinary egg.

When a hen lays an egg, she deposits a layer of "mucoprotein" on the eggshell.  Mucoprotein?  Ewwww... what's that?!  It's a thin layer of protein composed of mucopolysaccharides!  Muco-what?  Ok, simply put, it's a layer that the hen's body deposits on the outside of the eggshell.  This protein layer protects the egg by preventing bacteria from entering through the pores (tiny holes) in the eggshell.  Mucopolysaccharides also exist in the fluid that keep your knees working properly!  They are entirely safe and healthy!  Sometimes, this layer is referred to as the "bloom" on the egg.

Most of the time, the eggs you buy in the store have been washed, commercially, before you buy them.  Why?  Well, it would be dreadful to buy an egg with a little bit of hay on it, or, heaven forbid (!!) some chicken poop!  What happens when you wash the egg?  The protective layer of protein is washed away.  That means that bacteria are now free and clear to enter the eggshell pores.  Woohoo!  Bacteria party in egg number nine!

I don't wash my eggs.  I leave them alone, on the counter, with their bloom intact.  I gently brush off hay bits or feathers.  If an egg is really dirty, I gently wash it and put it in the fridge.  When I use an egg, from the counter, I wash it immediately before use.  This means that the egg is clean, and there is no way for surface contamination to affect the egg contents when I break it open.  It also means that bacteria have about a 30 second window, if that, to contaminate my egg.  Ha!  Fat chance!!  I have left eggs on the counter, at room temperature, for over a month.  No problems have occurred.

Did you know that in France, it is actually illegal to sell washed eggs?  That's because they know that washing the egg leads to a higher chance of contamination!  It's also a fact that in France, many people store their eggs on the counter-top, and not in the refrigerator.

So back to Iowa.  What's going on with those eggs anyway?  Well, I took a course in Animal Law earlier in the summer, so I can tell you exactly what's going on with those eggs.  First of all, the hens in the egg batteries in Iowa are kept in conditions that are apparently acceptable to the egg industry.  What sort of conditions are those, you might wonder?  Well, by law, they can be kept in cages that are stacked up to 4 levels in height.  That means that the hens on level 3 are pooped on by the hens on level 4.  It also means that the hens on level 2 are pooped on by the hens on levels 3 and 4.  Finally, the hens on the dreaded level 1, are pooped on by hens on levels 2, 3 and 4!  Those poor hens are often in cages that are so filthy and poop-filled that they get their legs stuck.  See the pale, floppy combs on these hens?  Not healthy.  Not at all normal.  They should be red and perky looking.  The bright red things you can see are plastic water drippers.

Furthermore, these hens are kept in cages that give them an "ample" amount of space, according to the poultry industry standard.  How much space is that, you might wonder?  Well, the amount of floor space per hen is less than a standard sheet of paper.  Seriously!  They have 67 square inches of floor space, for their entire lives, because apparently, that's all they "need."  Oh, and there are usually 6 of them per cage.  Slightly more than 8 by 8 inches.  Let me tell you, as someone who has kept chickens for a couple of years now, chickens need a lot more space than that.  They love to run, to flap their wings, to chase one another, to take dust baths (for parasite control), to fly onto low-hanging branches, to explore, and to have time to themselves.  Here are some dust bathers.  They are so funny to watch!

Can you imagine being stuck in a small apartment your whole life with 5 roommates, each of you with 2 square feet (or less!) of floor space, with 3 floors of apartments above you with wire mesh floors through which your neighbors dump their poop?  You'd lose your mind!!  And your health!  It's no wonder that these poor birds peck out each other's feathers out of sheer boredom and aggravation.  So let's add a little blood amidst all that poop, not to mention a wide variety of insects that like to inhabit such places.

So it's not entirely surprising that under such conditions, salmonella and other bacteria have a tendency to proliferate.  It's not a real stretch, to imagine, that birds who are stuck in such conditions might become unhealthy, and might develop illnesses themselves.

So next time you're in the grocery store, considering eggs, think about where they came from.  Think about the situation those hens are living in, and what those eggs are exposed to.  Make an informed choice.  Buy from a local farmer's market, or a local farm.  Get your own hens if you can.  The "big egg industry" can only be changed little by little, and it starts with consumer choices....with people like you.

In which I get an award! And for goats: Driving 101

The human says she is "losing the battle" this semester at school, and that she can not seem to catch up.  Again, she has put me in charge of the blog post today.  I know that really, she knows that I write better blog posts than she does, and that everybody would rather read stuff from me.  But, we won't tell her that.  It might upset her.

So guess what?!  I won an award!  Yes, I know, it's expected really, but I was particularly thrilled that this one came from Millie, over at Eden Hills.  Millie hasn't been feeling all that well lately you know.  She has said is actually a bit anemic.  The vet said so.  But she doesn't realize she spelled it wrong.  It's actually akneemic.  It's when you have a microphone implanted in your knee, usually by aliens.  Poor Millie was abducted by aliens one night, you see, and they put a microphone in her knee, and now they can hear everything she does.  And her knee hurts.  Anyway, I always avoid alien abductions and my knees are fine.  You should all go say Hi to Millie and wish her well.  They really should remove that microphone.

Anyway, Millie sent me the butterfly award!  Isn't that lovely?!

It's because I am dainty and beautiful, like a butterfly.  Thank you very much Millie!  I am honoured!  Claire said I have to choose who to send it to also, because her head is too full of too many other things to be able to make decisions.  I, of course, am a natural leader and decider of things.  Clearly, it should go to my dear friend Isobelle, because she is a very beautiful goat, like me, and sometimes her ears are sort of like butterflies.

I can't fly, personally, yet.  I am quite good at leaping and jumping though.  I think Isobelle is working on goat flight too.  But until we have that sorted out, I am learning to drive.  I thought I would give some tips to any other goats who wish to follow my lead.  Naturally, they will all want to follow my lead.

First, you must learn how to get into the vehicle in a dainty manner.  No leg flailing or anything else that would be unseemly for a beautiful goat.

Then, you have to survey your adoring fans from the seat of the vehicle, once you have entered it, because you know that they all want to see you.

That done, you should carefully inspect the surroundings in case there are leftover human foods to be had.  Unfortunately, there were none.  Oh, also get yourself into the driver's seat.

Driving requires three things - concentration, facing forward, and looking beautiful.  I'm still working on the concentration part.  The steering wheel is rather cumbersome for hoofed creatures.

You can always be a back seat passenger, if you prefer!  Except when the back seat is full of bags of fleece.

Also practice getting out of the car in a dainty manner.  And never, ever poop on the seats.

I suppose you want to know why there was all that fleece in the back seat.  Well, Claire went to a dye party with some of her friends who are all obsessed with sheep and goats and llamas and stuff.  She seemed very pleased with the results of her efforts.

I hope she doesn't decide to dye me anytime soon.

In particular, I do not want to be hung on a fence to dry.  Thank you all the same.

Wishing all you goats a lovely weekend from here in Iowa.  Goatie kisses from me.  

Unauthorized birth

This is Lucky Nickel, with an important announcement, I guess, if you listen to Claire that is, which I sort of do, when I have to...

Claire said I should do a blog about the new birth on the farm.  Did you hear that?  Yup...new birth.  And I know you're probably asking yourself right now...as I did....who authorized that?  Because let me tell you, I, Lucky Nickel, did NOT sign off on any paperwork on this.  I would definitely remember having done that, because it would have taken some deep goat thoughts on my part, to decide if I felt that was a good idea or not.  You remember the other llama baby we had back in January?  His name is Stormy.

Yeah, he's a lot bigger now, and I think he might have authorized it because they came from the same Dad.  You know, Kahlua, that big brown llama guy.  I think it was a conspiracy.

But, you know, Claire is the provider of the treats.  So I feel a little obligated about this "announcement" that she wants me to do.  I will try to be nice about it.

So, suddenly, before I even knew what was happening, there was a kerfuffle over towards the area of the llamas.  I could have told Claire what was going on, but ooooh no, she was in the house studying, and you know if you bother her while she is studying, she gets this mad face on and has a little fit and comes outside waving her arms around and complaining about too much bleating.  Well, I could have told her, but I thought better of it.

Later when she comes outside, she goes all ballistic about this thing in the llama pen.  I had to come over and pretend to be surprised.  "Oh gee, when did that get there?"

So Claire is just staring at it because she can't even believe it happened, and I'm waiting for her to get over her little moment of shock.  Humans can be so predictable.  She makes all kinds of squealing noises and rushes off to get the little black clicky box thing...she's obsessed with it.  Then she has to go pick up this wet, squirmy animal and announce to nobody in particular that it's a boy.  I mean, I already knew that, and the mother llama, Cabernet, already knew that too, so I don't know why Claire thought it was necessary, but anyway, she said it was a boy.

Seriously, look at this.  What is there to squeal about when this creature can't even stand properly on its own 4 feet?  How clumsy can an animal be?  I never did this...

Anyway, that first day was pretty boring, because Claire just kept coming down to look at it and squeal at it and I was totally being ignored.  Typical.  She gave it some milk too, out of MY BOTTLE!  I definitely never authorized that.  I would not want my bottle being contaminated by llama spit.  For some reason, I don't get my bottle any more.  I think Claire has forgotten.  I tried to get it when she was taking it to the llama and she told me to be good!  Can you imagine?!  I don't know what came over her.

So then today, it was a little better.  This morning, I went to check out the new arrival in more detail.  Did you know they call a baby llama a "cria?"  I mean, what kind of word is that?  Me, when I was a baby, I was a "kid."  Now that is a nice easy word.  Anyway, I was not at all sure about this cria thing.

He has kind of messy looking fur, and he isn't very graceful.  I am so attractive, it is hard for any creature to be measured against me, but really, this one is particularly awkward looking.  I think he needs to go to a groomer or something.

Claire was particularly excited this morning about the cria nursing by himself.  Big whoopie.  I prefer bottles.

After the cria nurses, he acts like it's some big accomplishment, because then he has to go have a little lie-down, as if it was an exhausting feat to do this simple task.  I know he's doing it for the attention.  He's just jealous of me.  But, his mom, Cabernet, she encourages it!  I mean, talk about LAZY!!!

The cria can't even do his own thing.  He has to look just like his mom.

The sheep were a little bit curious about it.  Really, you can't blame them.  Sheep are kind of dense that way.  They can never figure out what is going on and you can see here, they think that the cria is a lamb.  Even though none of them remember giving birth or anything, they figure it might be theirs.  I can't even imagine what goes on inside their heads...oh...well, nothing obviously.

Oh yeah.  Claire says the cria has "such beautiful eyes" and she looks all gooey when she says that, like she might melt or something.  Whatever.

Anyway, that's about all there is to say about it.  I don't see what the big deal is.  I mean, it's not like it's going to get to sleep in the house, like I did.  I was waaaay more special.  But I guess it's sort of cute.  Maybe.  If you like that sort of thing.