This morning I continued to "strip" the barn as requested by the purchasers of my farm. By now I've hauled out about 20 cartloads of spent hay, and I couldn't help but mutter under my breath about how wasteful those spoiled little goats of mine are.What goes through their mind when they eat hay ... "oh, this isn't a good piece, I'll just let that fall out of my mouth." Their wasted hay always makes the greatest garden mulch for me, peppered with little pellets of nitrogen, but since I'm moving, it just needs to be hauled on out.
Where the goats are going in Kansas, they will not be living in the manner to which they've grown accustomed. In Kentucky, they have a four-stall horse barn, individual doghouses, Cool-A-Roo beds in the breezeway and a lovely, enclosed barnyard with logs to climb. They are simply pets, and they're spoiled. Rotten. My sweetie is "Mr. Range Animal" and thinks they are absurd. I've always known this to be true about my goats, but it is what it is. So, when we arrive in Kansas soon, the three Pygmy goats will be sharing space with a flock of chickens and their housing will consist of a converted Butler building to which we've cut windows and installed screening. The goat ghetto?
I actually think it will be a lot of fun to see them in their new surroundings, reacting to chickens and nibbling on all the new plants. I still need to figure out logistical points like getting them warm water in the winter, but I know it will all work out. Adventures in livestock ... sign me up!