Martha and Mellie are officially holding their kids hostage. They are past their expected due dates, their milk bags have dropped, as far as I can tell their ligaments are gone, their vulvas are swollen and oozing (too much information for those of you who do not spend your days staring at goat butts), they are flagging their tails and their bellies are huge. But still no babies! I wonder if they will have them during the night. I might get up and check, just in case.
Although we checked on the goats about a dozen times today, in between we tried to keep our minds off of our impending arrivals.
We picked chokecherries and the last of the black currants.
We cut up and moved a wood pile that was in the way of the next stage in our fencing project.
We even wore our underwear on our heads. Well, Alistair did. The rest of us kept ours on our bums where it belongs.
Come to think of it, today
was a lot about bums. Ah well...I guess on a farm some days are just going to be like that.
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