Man Blog of May: I Call It Mind Blown May

It is time again for the man blog. This month, I realized that somewhere along the line, I turned into the librarian in The Twilight Zone and have become… obsolete. We have always said that we struggle with social media and don’t understand what is happening. Jordan informed me that I was not using YouTube correctly. It seems easy enough to me. I set up a camera with our herd doing something they do, record and put it online. Apparently, there has to be editing, subtitles, some sound effects, and even music. It can't be just music; it has to be trending music. The Bean informed me that we should have sponsors by now. As a matter of fact, “we should be sponsored to have our goat feed.” I said, “So, we would get free goat feed?” She replied, "Yep!" Apparently, that isn’t where it stops. She assured me if it was done right, we would also get paid to have free feed and to mention that we use it.

I felt like I was talking to someone in a different language. I said, “Let me get this straight: companies would send us feed.” Jordan, “Well, we need more followers, and then, yes. A company would sponsor us to use their products on our goats.” After a solid ten minutes of being unable to grasp the concept of exactly why in the world all of this happens she finally dumbed it down enough for me to understand, somewhat. “Dad, this is an actual job for people.” Again, I needed clarification: “You mean they just get things and post them online?” Giving me another look like I cannot simplify this enough because you are an analog clock in a digital world, she said, “Exactly!” We watched a few minutes of people opening products and discussing them. I can honestly say I don’t understand it. I somewhat understand companies endorsing athletes, but regular folks I don’t get. I had to suffer through multiple videos of a woman whose lips looked like they were attacked by an entire swarm of bees, opening up products and rambling on and on about them. “You do understand that all of the stuff in the background is there because they paid her to put it there?” Jordan asked me. I felt like I was a horsewhip maker at a horseless carriage shop. “Does everyone know this?” Apparently, everyone in the entire world knew this but me.

We watched a “Famous YouTuber” chat and rambled about nothing. How did they get famous? "For being on YouTube." What are they famous for? "They're famous for being famous on YouTube." It was like trying to debate which was first, the chicken or the egg. It turned into something I knew I couldn’t wrap my head around or comprehend, and I had to move on. It occurred to me that I had hit another milestone. I have become dated and cannot comprehend what makes most of the world tick.

Milestones when you are young are always memorable and pleasant, something to look forward to. Jordan is less than a year away from starting to drive. There is much planning and saving and car looking building up to this. Adult milestones are not fun. They sneak up on you out of the blue and remind us that we are turning into people who lament about today's youth, how the world has changed for the worse, and how the new generation will be society's downfall. The first ear hair that poked out of my head was another moment where I knew old age wasn’t far away. But like every significant event, the first one is the most memorable. It was a moment when I could not find tweezers fast enough. Several years after the fact, I feel that I don’t care about my ear hole forest unless they make it hard to hear.

Speaking of forests, we had to clean up some downed trees this month, and I managed to get into some poison ivy. Luckily, I didn’t have to get any medical attention over it this time. However, I did notice when I was rubbing Calamine lotion on my arms that they had turned into flabby old man arms. When I mentioned it to Tina, she asked if I would be looking for a weight bench on Facebook Market Place. That had never occurred to me. “Nope, I was just letting you know and getting ahead of this one so you weren’t surprised later.” Yet another mid-age milestone has been met.

The good thing about the month of cleaning up some downed trees and making mountain pies is that I have discovered that chicken salad and cheese mountain pies make a mighty fine meal when you are out of pizza ingredients and don’t feel like running to the store. I was also informed that we should have a small event where people buy tickets to cook and eat mountain pies in a goat pasture. Obviously, we would need influencers to influence everyone on how great it is. More than likely, we need to connect with Oscar Meyer to see if they want to supply hotdogs. If the wiener mobile is available, it could be worked in. We should also contact Cabellas to see if they would give us their camp chairs, hotdog sticks, and mountain pie makers so we can tell people how wonderful they are and how much they need them to have a successful camping experience. Perhaps an equipment brand will supply what is required to mow and gather the brush. Why stop there? Perhaps some company will donate a log splitter and a chainsaw so we can build a campfire. Don't forget the company that makes matches or lighters. We need matches and lighters for a campfire. If we are really going for broke, maybe Jet Puff will donate marshmallows, Hershey's will donate chocolate bars, and Nabisco will provide the graham crackers for us to make s'mores. Of course, we would have it all in the background of the official Mountain Pie Cooking Festival video. It all baffles me.

I have reached the point where I don’t understand any of this. I do know this Saturday is our little Springtime At The Farm event here at the farm from 9-1. It is apparently old school. There will be no Farris wheels, no famous for being famous people (None that I know of. I don’t get out enough to know the difference between an influencer and an average Joe), no bells, no whistles. We and our small group of vendor friends will be set up in our field. There will be goats, great food, amazing small businesses, and some excellent goat's milk soap. It's not fancy or famous, but it's us, the people we love, in our favorite place in the world.

Until next month, if we don’t see you on Saturday, I guess it is your mistake to make. After all, you won't find better company. Stay safe, and wash on.

Tuesday Spotlight: Sweet Anjou Pear

Today, the spotlight is on our fruity, fresh creation, Sweet Anjou Pear soap and moisturizer. Sweet Anjou Pear smells delicious and is simple, clean, and fresh. We begin with our classic soap recipe, which is based on fresh, raw goat's milk. We then add skin-loving oils such as olive, coconut, and castor. We finish with our clean, plant-based fragrance oil and natural mica powders for colorants. Not only is the soap beautiful, but it smells divine.

This week, save 25% on bars and jars of Sweet Anjou Pear exclusively on the website. No promo code is needed to take advantage of our weekly special, which will be applied at checkout. It is a great time to try something new, send an affordable, thoughtful gift, or stock up on a favorite. On this lovely, summer-like day, stay safe, be smart, enjoy the savings, and keep washing your hands.

Weaponized Warfare

Jessica, aka Lil Mouse or Horns, and soon-to-be Maleficent getting first dibs on the prime brush

There has been a power shift in the barn—a coup d'etat, if you will. For years, my first five girls held the power in the herd. They were intelligent, gentle, patient ladies who ruled with finesse and fairness. Red was the herd matriarch; Boo was second in command. When these girls ruled, there was peace in the herd. Red is an ear-biter. Misbehaving youngsters who forgot their place in the hierarchy and incurred squabbles were handled with some pushing, a little headbutting, an ear bite, and a guttural warning bawl. No one was ever seriously injured or hit with real aggression. Yes, Red could lose her temper; one could tell when she was out of patience, but she did not reign with an iron hoof by any means.

We have watched the barn's power change over the last several months. Red and Lily did not participate in breeding season this year. My girl, Red, is too old, and her oldest daughter, Lily, has some mild neurological issues. My girls have earned a gentle retirement. However, with their gentle retirement, their status in the herd has fallen. We have watched as our only goat with horns, Jessica, aka Lil' Mouse or Horns, has literally beaten and battled her way to the head of the herd.

Jessica, whom I call Lil Mouse because of her mousey brown/grey color, is the only goat from the year we did not disbud our kids. Everyone here hates disbudding day. My bib, overall-wearing wonder buns, is the guy upon whom the disbudding responsibilities fall. It is a highly unpleasant activity, and it is at the top of days we hate. The Bibbed Wonder used to ask me to help him with the process, but after a few years, he just gave up. I am not good at doing things that inflict pain upon any creature. Eric decided we were not removing horns three years ago and left everyone with horns intact. This is definitely up there with some of our worst ideas. Sigh.

Lil Mouse was held, cuddled, and played with just like every one of our babies. Her babyhood was filled with cuddles and kisses. At around three months of age, the kids go through a rebellious stage. They begin to detach from their mamas and no longer want to be held and cuddled by their stewards. Lil Mouse embraced her independence with a ferocity rarely seen. She was crazy. We could not get within five feet of her unless we had food. She was always the last to be caught when we were moving the herd from one pasture to the other, and catching her was like trying to outwit an escape artist. There was always a lot of colorful language when dealing with her. The term "bat shit crazy" was epitomized by Lil Mouse. Simply stated, this goat was an asshole.

As with most does, they settle down and grow up once they have had little ones. Lil Mouse became one of the friendliest goats in the herd once she became a mom. However, as she matures, so does her desire to climb in status. Once she realized she had something nobody else had, she became unstoppable and greedy with power. We first noticed her pushing around Lil' Black. Lil' Black is the least competitive goat of the five original girls. Then she worked her way through the ranks focusing her energy and horns on Mama Boo and then Lily. Lily put up the most fight. These girls would go at it with a fierceness I was not used to seeing in my herd. Lily has a deep guttural belly bawl that sounds like pure anger. Whenever we heard this cry, we knew Lily was on the warpath.

Lil Mouse became more and more aggressive toward Lily. I witnessed her knocking my Lily goat to the ground when she was having a neurological episode. The Bibbed Wonder and I declared Lil Mouse is indeed an asshole. She then focused on Boo and, finally, Big Red. Eric was certain I would declare Lil Mouse had to go when she knocked about my arthritic girl, Red. Red is not weak, but she is intelligent. She knew the wisest thing to do would be to concede to the horned tyrant. And with that, we went to the barn one day to find Horn's first in line for food and her turn on the milk stand. Horns now leads the herd to the field, and at feeding time, nobody eats until Horns is finished and has been removed from the feeding section of the barn.

My older girls fear her and give her a very wide berth. I am in a conundrum. Part of me wants to see her go because she is such a jerk to the goats. However, she is also very sweet to us, easy to milk, a good mom, and intelligent. I like her except for her horns and her attitude. The other day, I was helping Eric with the feeding. The girls make a mad rush for the gate, with Horns in the lead, of course. As I stood trying to hold back the caprine hoard with my whole body, Horns lowered her head, pressed her horns into me, and caught me right in the groin with her left horn. I yelped in surprise and pain. The Bibbed Wonder yelled, "Let them in, let them in!" I moved back, holding my "area" and yowling in pain and outrage. One has not experienced pain until one has taken a goat horn to the crotch. I was aghast that she used her horns against me. She did not hit me but definitely used those weapons to her advantage.

Last week, The Bibbed Wonder had to disbud little Iris, aka Baby Boo. I kissed her on her gentle little head and said woefully, "Oh, I hate today!" The Bibbed Wonder replied, "It is better it happen now so that when she is older, she doesn't get her head stuck or act like an asshole." He's right. However, disbudding day will remain our least favorite day. I took my Heavy-B for a walk before the process started. When I returned from my walk, Iris was curled up in the sunshine, seemingly no worse for the wear. (On a side note, Iris was our baby with Ricketts. Her little legs are almost perfect after a dose of selenium and vitamin E and three days of cod liver oil twice a day. We are thrilled.) No matter that we hate disbudding our babies, it is best for everyone in the long run. Not disbudding them is a mistake we will not make again.

For now, Jessica, who may have her name changed to Maleficent, is the herd leader. We have separated our geriatric girls, Eric calls them "The Grannies" and our very small girls from the bucks. Red and Lily are safely away from Horns and her tyrannical reign. We have a decision to make about whether Horns will keep her happy home. Aside from her weapons of mass destruction, she is a delightful little goat. Since she is on top, I have not seen as much hitting. However, we are well aware she could wield her weapons at any given time, and she could do serious damage. It is a problem, indeed.

On this beautiful summer-like day, stay safe, be smart, do what is hard for the good of the group, don't get hit in the crotch with a goat's horn, understand that being a jerk is not the best way to take power, and keep washing your hands.