Goats with pink horns, duck whispering, and moles

1) Pinkerton, the stray goat with pink horns: here he is, as promised. The animal shelter reports that he will move to New Moon Farm (a goat sanctuary) on Saturday.

2) Quacktacular success: Dylann, my middle human filly, has trained her duck Pickle to heel. Pickle adores Dylann, who spends time with him in the barnyard each day. Pickle runs to her feet and gently pecks them for attention whenever she emerges from the house. Pickle prefers Dylann to his ducky wives.

Meanwhile, Pickle's ducky wives (Princess Dewdrop and Junebug, respectively) don't care a bit for their human mistresses. The only difference? Time. Dylann has put in a lot of it, and it shows! We are all terribly proud of Dylann for being such a good duck whisperer.

3) Goats, secret agents, and villany: one day, FarmWife came home to a terrible scene of devastation and disorder. The goats, by some trickery, had gained access to the garbage and pulled it into their stall! This was inconceivable!

A little investigation revealed that the garbage had been tipped by a mole! The goats must somehow have conspired with this garden-variety spy to emerge at precisely the right location, at precisely the right time, to send the rubbish cascading in the direction of the goat pen. A little reaching with their go-go-gadget necks, and voila! The trash was theirs.

Goat, garbage, spilled can. "Who, me?" (Feigns innocence.)

Fresh mole hole

That's all the news that's fit to print!

Ears,

FenBar

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Here are the Cloud Dog's X-Rays

Here, for your edification, are the X-rays of dear Paisley's leg. There is, apparently, no new break (since his Monday siezure) but there is, of course, a great deal of abnormality caused by years of living with a shortened ulna. His pronounced lameness, the vet says, may temporarily improve. Unlike me, Fenway Bartholomule, poor cloud dog can't expect much in the way of a full recovery. Not having the $$$$ for surgery to fuse the joint, we are working on making some sort of rigid splint to support the limb and prevent further degeneration. That is, the humans (with their space-age material inventions and their opposable thumbs) are working on making a splint; I am working on giving cloud dog brayful looks of support and encouragement every time he totters into the yard to relieve himself. As always, he fears me (me?!) and keeps his distance. Ears to you, Fenway

Continued . . .

Vegan Spring Rolls

I, Fenway Bartholomule, am a vegan: of course I only eat plants, not people! My human is too, so I'm sharing my blog with her today so that she can participate in the 2014 Virtual Vegan Potluck ! When you're done perusing the recipe for these delicious spring rolls, click "back" or "forward" for the entire potluck experience! Virtual Vegan Potluck: Spring Roll Appetizers Beautiful? Check. Healthy? Check. Delicious? Check. Easy? Check. Fancy? Check. Quick to clean up after? Check. Vegan? OF COURSE! If you're looking for something portable, colorful, and crowd-pleasing for your next potluck, look no further than these simple vegan spring rolls! The best part? You can substitute ANYTHING. I never make these the same way twice, so play around with cilantro, kale, cabbage, scallions, or whatever you think sounds good! Ingredients Veggie mix: 2 carrots (grated) 4 oz mung bean sprouts 1/3 cup chopped peanuts (raw, or roasted and salted) or ...

Continued . . .

A List

FarmWife has a to-do list, and "Ride the Mule" is sadly absent. The best thing on the list is "Muck out the Paddock," during which time I can enjoy the pleasure of her delightful company. The worst thing on the list is "clean the house," which is sure to take hours and hours which would be better spent rubbing my splendiferous ears. There's hardly even time for blogging on my transcriptionist's agenda, so I'll keep this short. Here, before I go, is the view from FarmWife's bedroom window at various levels of zoom: Your friend, Fenway

Continued . . .

Stripey schemes and meadow dreams

As you may recall, I am the proud resident of a very charming little barn—some might call it a shed—which shelters me in the winter from rain, and in the summer from sun. This spring Farmwife and Farmhusband decided it should be painted. Green, suggested Farmwife. Red, suggested Farmhusband. Teal, suggested Farmwife. Yellow, suggested Farmhusband. Stripey, suggested Farmwife? She was thinking of a retro Chevy squarebody (a quick Google search will show you what I mean), but didn't quite know how to make that practical on boards and battons. Farmhusband, who is a wizard, not only figured how how the stripes ought to go, but also arranged for the painting to be done. What I ended up with, almost in the blink of an eye, is the brightest, most cheerful, stripeavaganza of a barn. Even the neighbors are fond of it! In front of the barn is a vast expanse of grass which I am not allowed to sample on account of my laminitis. Not only is Farmwife opposed to letting me eat...

Continued . . .

BRAYS OF OUR LIVES

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