Kids in the Trunk

In my last update I mentioned how loud the baby goaties were after separating them from their mommies.  Loud doesn’t begin to cover it.  Consider that their cries sound like distressed children, and you can guess the toll it takes on your nerves. “Maaaaaaaaaam!!”  The poor things cried until they lost their voices.  I began to question the whole “dominion over the earth” man was given and thought instead I should tuck them back in with their moms and apologize profusely.  I can picture it now, “Shea we can’t milk them anymore, and oh, the goats have requested that we chill their water buckets and arrange a pedicure.”

Shea’s approach was more practical. Find them a home ASAP.  Turns out, we have some family with 2 acres in Payson who were excited to welcome the little weed-eaters.  The long-term plan (remember, there is always a plan with us!) is to pasture Buddy and Coraline all summer and then pick them up in the fall, all fat and happy.   From there details blur.

That brings us to the short-term plan. Considering we had two goats, a 75 minute drive, and no trailer or truck, the plan looked something like this:

That’s right, that is the back of my van, a tarp, and some Pampers.  Are the diapers overkill? Remember, I’ve cleaned “chee chee shee” off the DVD player in my van; I wasn’t about to trust a goat. They can whiz like a…you know, maybe I won’t finish that simile.

We let the kids out of their makeshift pen and they immediately bolted to their mamas.  I tried not to anthropomorphicize (it’s a word now!) the moment, but in my head I heard violin music.

I wish so much I had a better picture of the following scene: Shea slapping some plushy size 5’s on a couple of “teenage” goats in the back of a van.  I tried, really. But after an intense moment of struggling, he said something sweet like “Stop taking pictures for your dumb blog and help me!”  Hey, you can’t judge until you’ve tried diapering a goat.

With the kids bum-tucked and secured, we piled our other children in the van and hit the road. I had imagined a long drive of wailing kids and frantic attempts to jump over the backseat or, worse, to eat it. But as soon as we began moving, they settled right in and we didn’t hear a peep from them the whole time. Relief. It made for a surprisingly uneventful drive.  Sad, as I had also imagined getting pulled over and explaining why there were kids in my trunk.  That would have made a great blog post.

We arrived in Payson and let the babies out to pasture.  They had pulled their diapers off, but the evidence remained to show that they had indeed served their purpose.  Remind me to call Pampers and tell them I have an idea for a commercial.  Buddy and Coraline immediately loved their new home.  What looked like a huge patch of weeds and brush to me must have had all the allure of an all you can eat buffet….or an unguarded Costco sample stand. They instantly took to their surroundings. They pranced, they danced, they nibbled on everything.  I think they forgave me for the separation anxiety we had all suffered. In fact, I think as soon as they hit the green they forgot they had moms at all….like the first weekend at a college dorm!  (love you, mom!)

Buddy and Coraline about to go unleashed.

Things have settled down delightfully since we took the kids for a ride.  I even gave the mama goats, Punky and Dora, a well deserved pedicure. We mucked out the barn and spruced things up a bit.  You may remember last time we did that.…this round I was prepared.

Oh we are way beyond bandanas now. Funny though, you could still taste the smell. Gross.

We love our goats and we love our goat milk.  I am really obnoxious, making everyone who visits try it and then hovering over them awaiting the raves, like I had something to do with the recipe. Seriously good stuff. Swing by the purple barn, I will buy you a drink!

One comment on “Kids in the Trunk

  1. Tricia on said:

    Oh I’m so happy you survived (oh the goats) your trip! I tasted goat milk when I was a teen and loved it but I forgot what it tasted like! To me anything like that is like gold, like my chicken eggs or anything from my garden. I don’t want any little bit to go to waste.

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