Category: Ranch Life

The Goats

Post author By Dre
Post date May 27, 2008
2 Comments on The Goats

We have two main categories of goats on our ranch: Small Goats and Big Goats. Or, Not Profitable and Profitable, if you will.

The Small Goats, which are actually Pygmy Goats, don’t make us any money. Well, there was that one time we made $70 off of a little 4-H girl, but if you take into account the amount of money spent on them, we’re pretty much in the red. So why would we keep a breed of animal around that costs us money, time, and resources and is pretty much good for absolutely nothing? Because they look like this:

And really, if you want to show up Paris Hilton or some other socialite carrying around a tiny teacup dog, put a baby pygmy goat in your purse. Better yet, go ahead and drop in two. Because the only thing in the wide, wide world cuter than a baby pygmy goat? Is two baby pygmy goats. Although you might not find them quite as cute when they poop in your lipstick.

The second category of goats around here, as I mentioned, is Big Goats. Are Big Goats? Whatever. We have two Big Goat breeds.

The Nubians (these are babies):

and the Boers (this one’s a buck, which means has balls)
(balls not pictured, sorry):

Nubians are known for being dairy goats, and Boers are known for being meat goats. We don’t drink or eat goat, we just breed them, and feed them, and pet them, and castrate them because if you don’t, they stink, and then we sell them. In case you were wondering, goat balls get banded which is a lot less messy than with immediate removal like the pigs. Those things just shrivel up and fall off, I’m not. even. kidding.

We like the Big Goats because they birth easily. We’ll just be wandering around and go, ‘Oh dang! We’ve got three new Big Goats!’. Whereas with the Little Goats, they tend to have more trouble and require some intervention. More than once we’ve been up in the middle of the night, birthin’ some pygmy goats. I’ve had my hand up a goat more times than I can count, and people? I don’t even get paid for this.

Ranch Life

The Pigs

Post author By Dre
Post date May 26, 2008
2 Comments on The Pigs

There are two resident pigs here on the ranch.

The one on the left is “Miss Piggy”, (quite an original name) and the one on the right is “Huey”.

Huey is quite the affectionate mate.

Look at him loving on Miss Piggy.

And still, loving on Miss Piggy. Get a room, you two.

The female pig is a Sow, and the male pig is a Boar. There are a few main differences between the Sow and the Boar. As you may have noticed, the Sow is often smaller in stature. Also, the Sow has 12 to 14 “teats” and can have just as many piglets, because she has two uteri. Each piglet claims its own teat which is why, if there are more piglets than teats, you will have a runt.

The gestational period for pigs is 3 months, 3 weeks and 3 days. How can we know just exactly when she conceived, anyway? Well, pigs make an awful racket when they, um, do it, so it’s pretty hard to miss. About a week or so before she’s due, we put the Sow into the farrowing crate, pictured here. The whole idea is to keep the Sow from rolling over on the piglets with her big ol’ behind, while affording the piglets ample room to nurse. The piglets stay in a smallish pen with their mama, until they are ready to be sold.

When they are a few weeks old, the males get castrated so you don’t have to look at this all the time:

Because, don’t you think one pair of those is enough? No wonder he’s so affectionate.

Ranch Life The Style Section

M’ Boots

Post author By Dre
Post date May 16, 2008
3 Comments on M’ Boots

I’m sorry, but y’all gotta read this post with a North Carolina accent. Jeremy’s Grandma Lois has been here a little over a week now, and I can’t he’p it, it’s catchin’. Don’t worry, she’ll be goin’ on back home next Tuesdy, and I’m sure I’ll be back to talkin’ like a yank in no time. Meanwhile, my grammar’s on the back burner.

So anyway, here’s m’ boots. Dontcha wish ya had a pair just like ’em?

I love m’ boots. I got ’em at Target (surprised?) a couple/few years back, and they find themselves upon m’ feet a few times a day. Now mind, I’m not so country back woods that they ever leave the Ranch. No, I only wear ’em ’round here, perty much whenever I go outside. See all them colors? Turns out they go with dern near everythin’. And it dudn’t matter if you’re wearin’ jeans or capris or a skirt, just slip them puppies on and they’ll keep the cow poo off’n your clothes. I learnt that one real quick, don’t be tryin’ to wear your good shoes in the pasture, ’cause yer just askin’ fer trouble. In fact, don’t be tryin’ to wear anythin’ but boots around here a’tall, ’cause some animals just don’t care where they poop, even if that means it’s on yer porch.

Just about everbody ’round here ~ well, everbody who walks, anyway ~ has ’em a pair.

‘Cause folks, I dare y’all to try and pick goat poop, peacock poop, cow poop, horse poop, chicken poop, or any combination a the above, out the cracks in the bottom of any ol’ pair a shoes. These here boots are pretty great, I reckon, ’cause y’all can just stand in a puddle a water and swish around a bit to get the poo off. Shoot, y’all could even go stand in the pond a spell or spray ’em off with a hose. And what do ya know, they’re good as new.

Allergies Ranch Life

A belly rub gone wrong

It’s another gorgeous day here in paradise so we spent Blythe’s nap time hangin’ out on the sidewalk this morning. In attendance: Alison (decked out in a lacy pink dress over the top of her pajamas – it’s Sunday, who am I to judge?), me, a bucket of sidewalk chalk, Cage (overweight dog), Simon (curmudgeonly old cat) and Tiger (Simon’s effeminate male offspring). Now that you’ve met the cast, picture each of the above (minus the chalk) fighting for a turn in my lap. The lap will never be large enough, people.

Cage spent his turn sprawled out, upside down, drooling on my pants and feet while I scratched and rubbed and petted him. I gave him a good long turn in the lap and then… the itching started. And then the sneezing. And the watery eyes followed by some hives and DANG, what on earth did he roll in that I am allergic to? Could he have rolled in a large pile of pepperoni? Unlikely, although that is probably the equivalent of a dog’s wet dream. Might he have coated his fur with the juice from a watermelon (not to be confused with watermelon juice) or pumpkin innards? Probably not.

Unfortunately, the list of odd things to which I am allergic seems to grow with each passing year. For example, did you know that one could be allergic to the urea that is so kindly called an “inactive ingredient” in most lotions that have SPF? That’s right, save your skin from the sun by coating it with urine. Someone else’s urine, at that. But don’t worry, it’s inactive. Wait just a minute here… urine. You know, Cage probably DID roll himself in some pee, and I just rubbed it all over my hands, arms, and lap. At least I didn’t give him any kisses today, ’cause that would just be disgusting.

I see a bath in his immediate future, do you?

Ranch Life

With a PEEP PEEP here,

and a *PEEP* *PEEP* there,

Here a *PEEP*

There a *PEEP*

Everywhere a *PEEP* *PEEP*