A Forever Home For Fergus

On Saturday afternoon, we received a heartbreaking message from our neighbor, M. M., informing us that Big Boy, who was born here on the farm during our first baby season eight years ago and the son of my beloved Red, had to be peacefully laid to rest because he had developed spine cancer. M. is quite possibly the best goat mama I have ever met. When Rudy and Big Boy went to live with M. as weanlings, she slept with them in their little barn until they felt comfortable. Although M. does not have a huge pasture for the boys, she walks several miles daily with them, allowing them to exercise, forage, and bond with her. M. has a horse, but the goats refuse to stay in the pasture with the horse and instead prefer to hang out on M.'s porch, waiting for her to come out and spend time with them. M. implements the best feed, minerals, vet care, and natural care for the best health of all her animals.

Not only was M. sharing the loss of Big Boy, but she was also looking for a new companion for Rudy. When M. told me how lost and sad Rudy is without his lifelong friend, how she likes to walk with the boys off lead, and knowing what great care her pets receive, I automatically thought of my sweet little bottle baby, Fergus. Fergus loves attention, loves to be cuddled, and is friendly, sweet, and very calm. I thought he would make an excellent companion for poor, grieving Rudy and give M. a pleasant companion who would thrive under her fantastic care.

You may remember that Fergus McFlash was born to our Boer doe, Waddles. Waddles rejected poor Fergie, and I raised him partly in the house, and once he was big and strong enough, he returned to his herd. It seems that a bottle baby never really fits into the herd. They are always on the outskirts, the bottom of the hierarchy, and may have a friend or two, but they remain widely unaccepted. Ferg would run to me when he saw me, sit on my lap, walk underfoot, and nip at me for milk or treats. I watched as he was always the last one to eat, headbutted out of the way by the adults, and spent most of his time alone, aside from one little friend.

Although I adore Fergie, I knew that he would have the perfect home with M. and have a friend in poor, grieving Rudy. I intended to write a second story based on Fergus to rationalize keeping him to one bib overall wearing nay-sayer. However, when M. messaged, without a doubt, I knew this was the best option for little Fergie. I told M. I had the perfect goat for her. Without seeing him, she asked if I could deliver him less than a mile from our home. Of course, I agreed. Fergie is still small enough to sit on my lap, so The Bibbed Wonder and I got in the truck and took Fergie to his new forever home.

When we arrived, M. came out to greet us. I could see the sadness in her eyes. Losing Big Boy was genuinely heartbreaking for this amazing goat mama. After seeing Rudy, I knew I had made the right choice for Fergie—Rudy, who was also a runt and the son of Fushia, aka. Lil' Black is quite possibly the biggest goat I have ever seen. Rudy is HUGE! M. informed me that Big Boy was 4-5 inches taller than Rudy and more muscular. Rudy is the size of a small pony. I knew Big Boy was big, but I didn't realize how big he was until I saw them up close.

M. informed me that the backhoe operator they hired to bury Big Boy had just left. Eric carried Fergus down to M.'s goat barn, and we were in disbelief when we saw how big Rudy had grown. Poor little Fergie looked like a miniature goat compared to the humungous Rudy. Rather than welcome Fergus, Rudy acted like he feared my little peanut. Everyone, including and probably more so Rudy, is reeling from the unexpected loss of Big Boy. It will take time for Rudy and Fergus to become friends. However, with just two of them, they will soon bond and form a friendship.

I checked on M. yesterday to see how she and Fergie are doing. She told me that Rudy was being a bit pushy. He is trying to establish himself as the dominant one in the relationship. M. said Big Boy was the dominant one with Rudy, which would change the herd mentality and take some getting used to. Fergie is used to being the complacent one; I don't think he will mind having a big brother to look up to (literally) as long as he is not too rough and pushy. M. is giving the boys time together under close supervision. Until Rudy settles down, she has Fergus sleep in the barn with her horse.

The Universe has a way of working things out. I believe this situation is perfect for my little Fergilicious. I know he will receive the best care; he has the best goat mama, and he and sweet Rudy will be incredible friends. I went to sleep at peace over the situation. Over the next few weeks, I will continue to message M. about how Fergie is settling in with Rudy. I will probably even stop by to say hello. He truly is the sweetest little fellow. I love it when things work out for the best, and everyone is happy. It is a very happy ending or, even better, beginning for my sweet Fergus.

On this overcast November Monday, stay safe, be smart, embrace new beginnings and happy endings, and keep washing your hands.

Foodie Friday: Gingerbread Muffins

It appears that November weather has finally settled into Southwestern Pennsylvania. As I look out over the farm, the fields are covered in mist, there is a nip to the air, and the grey clouds overhead create a dreary gloom. Today is one of those days that I would like to curl up with my favorite quilt, a good book, a nice cup of tea, and a spiced sweet treat. However, duty calls, and once I finish writing to you, dear reader, I am off to the studio to make three batches of soap. If we complete our to-do list in a timely manner, I will bake a small batch of spicy, seasonal gingerbread muffins.

I don't often make sweet treats, especially of the spiced variety, because I will be the one to eat them. To be honest, I don't need the temptation or the calories. However, I have been craving fresh, warm gingerbread for almost a month. My daughter doesn't like anything sweet other than gob cake or Little Debbie Swiss Rolls. The Bibbed Wonder prefers no-bake cookies and has no palate for applesauce cookies, pumpkin anything, or gingerbread. They are a sad, boring lot with limited tastebuds. Sigh.

I found a recipe for delicious bakery-style gingerbread muffins years ago. The recipe is delightful, but I have only made it half a dozen times. Unless I am expecting company or we are attending a brunch, I can't justify making something only I enjoy. Today, if time permits, will be the exception. I look forward to the kitchen smelling like warm, spicy, sweet gingerbread. I also look forward to settling in with a nice cup of Almost Home tea from Broken Locust and reading a book. If not today, then tomorrow. Unless my bib-overall-wearing husband decides we must make soap on a Saturday. He gets twitchy this time of year and tends to go wild making soap to keep the shelves filled. This is not bad unless one craves a delightful treat that takes time to make.

Today, I will share my recipe for gingerbread muffins. If I can't make a batch for myself, I will live vicariously through you and hope you enjoy them as much as I do. Trust me, your kitchen will smell seasonal and festive. It's the perfect time of year to enjoy a special treat. I found this recipe on Jessie Bakes Treats during the height of the pandemic.

Gingerbread Muffins

Ingredients:

2 1/4 C all-purpose flour spooned and leveled

2 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp baking soda

1/4 tsp salt

1 & 1/2 tsp ground ginger

2 tsp ground cinnamon

1/2 tsp ground cloves

1/2 C salted butter melted and cooled to room temperature

3/4 C brown sugar

1/2 C sweetened molasses

1/2 C milk at room temperature

2 large eggs at room temperature

1 tsp vanilla extract

coarse sugar for sprinkling on top

Directions:

Preheat oven to 425 F and line a muffin pan with liners.

Whisk flour, baking soda, baking powder, cinnamon, ginger, cloves, and salt in a large bowl.

2 & 1/4 C all purpose flour,2 tsp baking powder,1/2 tsp baking soda,1/4 tsp salt,1 & 1/2 tsp ground ginger,2 tsp ground cinnamon,1/2 tsp ground cloves

Whisk together molasses, milk, eggs, butter, brown sugar, and vanilla extract in a medium bowl.

1/2 C salted butter, 3/4 C brown sugar, 1/2 C sweetened molasses, 1/2 C milk, 2 large eggs, 1 tsp vanilla extract

Add the wet ingredients to the dry. Mix just until combined using a rubber spatula.

Do not over-mix the batter, or the muffins will become dense.

Add the batter to the muffin pan, filling each muffin liner just over 3/4 full.

Sprinkle the coarse sugar on top of each muffin. This step is optional, but it adds a fantastic crunch to the muffins.

Bake for 5 minutes at 425 F, then lower the oven temperature to 350 F. Cook for an additional 15 minutes at 350 F or until a toothpick inserted into the middle of the muffin comes out clean.

Let muffins cool in the pan for 5 minutes before moving to a wire rack to cool completely.

On this seasonal November day, stay safe, be smart, eat delicious food that makes you happy, even if you are the only one who it makes happy, and keep washing your hands.

The Dark Side Of Goat Farming

Well, dear reader, it is officially breeding season on the farm. To date, two girls have had their conjugal visit with our stud muffin billy goat, Ace. Ace is now the only buck on the farm, thank goodness. Oliver, our Boer buck, went to live with our friends Pat and Sherry. Ollie has the job of producing beautiful babies with Pat and Sherry's small herd of Boer goats. He will do a fine job. Like his father, Abu, Ollie is very handsome and produces beautiful spotted kids. That makes Ace king of the mountain on our farm, and he relishes his position.

My bib overall-wearing buddy is in charge of the breeding schedule. My organized, anal-retentive, numbers-loving husband has created a spreadsheet to track who was bred and when. If everything goes as planned, we should have baby goats in late April. The Bibbed Wonder is trying to schedule a delivery every two weeks to spread out the busyness of the baby season and prohibit a free-for-all during delivery. There was a year when four girls were in labor at once. It was insanity, and there were babies everywhere!

Breeding season is a compilation of stench, never-ending funny noises, and a lot of moodiness and drama. Eric jokes that it is how he imagined our nearly two years of infertility treatments going, but the only accurate thing was the moodiness and drama. Sigh. He's a lot. Usually, the billy goat paces the fence line non-stop when the girls are ready for lovin'. This year, it is the opposite. My girls are the aggressors, and little Ace, who isn't so little, hangs out across the driveway with his friend Lestor, eating grass and playfully knocking heads. Ace only shows genuine interest in the ladies when he sees Eric coming with his collar and lead rope. Those two objects symbolize happiness for Ace. He stands quivering with anticipation while Eric fastens his collar.

He then struts, prances, and makes the funniest noises while he crosses the driveway to the barn. Eric tries to keep Ace away from him as he leads him, but Ace is a master at rubbing up against you, making you stink and smell like a billy. It's gross. The Bibbed Wonder has to strip on the porch because I don't want my house to smell like a billy goat. The Bibbed Wonder is indignant, but he complies.

Last night, Eric asked if I could help him with Jessica, aka Horns. Fly season is over, and we have decided to band her horns and remove them. The procedure is similar to banding a young billy. The vet assures us it is an adult goat's safest and best option. Horns is delightful with us but an absolute tyrant with the rest of the herd. We hope the horn removal goes smoothly and levels the playing field for the rest of the herd. After Horn's horns were banded, which was an easy process, it was time to bring Ace over to meet with our girl, Dot.

Dot spent the day pacing the fence line, calling to Ace, and trying to get his attention. She stood on her hind legs at the gate and bellered her desires across the driveway. Ace acknowledged her occasionally, but mostly, he ignored her. As he made his way across the driveway to the barn, Dot turned on the charm and stood on her hind legs, baaing loudly at the gate. When he disappeared inside the barn, Dot looked confused and disheartened. It is good that Dot is pretty because she is not leading the rest of the herd with her intelligence. It appeared as though a lightbulb went on over Dot's head, and she realized the focus of her desires was inside the barn. She took off running like a goat on fire.

What happened next is far too obscene to put into words—witnessing how babies are made taints my perception of my darling herd of gentle ladies. It's all tongue, weiner, sniffing, peeing, and the funniest noises I have ever heard. It's also aggressive and foul. My bib overall-wearing comedian husband stands and adds inappropriate commentary, much like I imagine a bad porn director would do. When Eric does this, I can't help but imagine him in a loud Hawaiian shirt with greasy hair and a mustache. Incidentally, this is how I imagine a porn director to look. A bib overall wearing Larry Flynt, if you will. Gross.

It doesn't take long for the deed to be over, but I always feel traumatized and like I need a shower when it's over. Dot seemed very interested in continuing the romance, so Eric had me lead Dot across the driveway to the boy's pasture. I didn't have to lead her; she more accurately dragged me along while following Ace. When it was all said and done, I smelled like a billy goat. Consider yourself lucky if you have never smelled a billy goat in rut. It is a scent that sticks in your nostrils for eternity.

When Eric fed and milked the goats this morning, Dot waited impatiently at the gate, ready to return to her barn, girlfriends, and feed trough. Eric has the unpleasant job of milking her after a night of romance with Ace. Insert a gagging noise. He claims she did the walk of shame and sheepishly faced her judgmental friends. Her stank made it evident to all what had occurred across the driveway. This made her popular with girls of low moral character. She wore her shame like a badge of honor. My girls are not always sweet.

On this chilly November day, stay safe, be smart, and be glad you are not a goat farmer during the breeding season; it is indeed dark and dirty around here. For the love of all that's holy, wash your hands. Billy goat musk is a scent you can't wash off.