Goat handling and fast cows

We went to Hamilton Show last weekend.  An agricultural show.  A real one.  Not the one that says it's an agricultural show and has to ship in livestock from over 300 kms away in order to charge you $37 for an adult and $22 for a child just to walk through the gate.  This show is about the local community and local animals i.e., from nearby.  Whether they be for grazing, eating, jumping or rounding up, Hamilton Show did a fantastic job representing them all.  Me, having come from an upbringing in the suburbs, the thought of growing up in a community that supported young women in sheep shearing championships and mustering on horseback is as far removed from this goat in the photo to a Kardashian.  This goat, whom I suspect deserves his ribbon better than anybody with a Kardashian surname for that matter was grumpy and not keen to be in the spot light.  The girl was commended for her handling and will no doubt be grateful for those skills in later life.  The women on horseback that could chase down a young cow (see I don't even know the correct term for young cow...) and young fast cow too, was simply amazing to watch.  Such control of the horse, these women were truly inspiring.  The food was either the standard orange variety i.e., some unrecognizable object dipped in batter and deep fried until orange, or you could queue up for the local guys BBQ with steak sandwiches, lamb in pitta bread for the vegetarians and a tasting platter with a few bits and pieces.  Included in the bits were some slices of a smoked lamb that was so tender you barely had to chew it, some cold smoked salmon and someone had done some pickled cucumber that had long forsaken its title of gherkin.  All good stuff.  So if you get the chance to support your local agricultural shows, go along.  We enjoyed our day and even managed to get home without purchasing a goat.  Came close though.  Phew.  Our trees are only just recovering from the last two, who would never win best in class. Unless there was a category for escape strategies.  Prize winners.

'A' Reserve Ticket Holders Only

We've run out of perches.  It's a bit like running out of seats at a football stadium.  The ones we have are all prime seating with a good view of the paddock and they're even tiered so nobody misses out on the action.  The perches start to fill on dusk every night by the same crew, our first batch of chickens.  The older chooks tuck themselves in first and Cyril usually gets seated last, being head rooster.  The newer and younger generations of chickens are later to bed.  They have no reserved seating and are forced into the general admissions area which is just a flimsy bamboo stick poking through the corners of the wire cage.  It was a bit of a quick fix on my part but seems to hold at least two or three.  I know it's going to split at some point, I just hope they get some warning.  Unfortunately we've had to put some goats in the same paddock as the chook pen recently due to their ability to levitate over fences.  And the goats like to snuggle up at night so the chook pen seems to them like a good alternative.  So the poor hens have had their house invaded by two goats that chew up all the straw and stomp around all night keeping everyone awake.  No wonder I haven't had any early morning crowing these last couple of days.  Nobody has had any sleep.

The Goat Houdini

Some say it takes a village to raise a child.  Some might say that it takes a hardware store to keep goats.  This box of tools is only some of what's needed to keep Houdini and his brother tethered and inside their fences. On Saturday I looked out the window to see a curious sight of a goat in the driveway.  Billy (the younger of the two) had gotten off his lead and gone over the fence.  His brother Harry was screaming blue murder.  Usually you can tell when one has escaped as the cries from the other will be a dead give away.  I run outside and Billy stands there with a big grin on his face and a mouth full of apple tree.  As I walk up to him he leaps into the air and jumps back into the paddock where he's supposed to be. Not possessing any resemblance of this kind of agility I walk around to the gate and into the paddock.  By the time I've got there he's out again.  I walk up to the fence line and he jumps in again.  It's like 'I'm in..I'm out.  I'm in....and now out'.  Such fun.  I look around for a branch to bribe him with and struggle to break one off the almond tree.  They both give me a bit of a pathetic look.  Eventually curiosity gets the better of Billy and he comes over to assist with the tree pruning.  I grab him by the collar.  Back on the tether you go.  Not even slightly bothered he puts his head down and continues eating next to his brother.  It was only a temporary fix as the tether broke and the hardware store was visited, yet again.  They must make a fortune out of goat owners like us thinking just one more trip to the store will fix it.  They probably know that the only real fix are leg irons and electronic ankle bracelets.