No, this is not a Siamese goat as the latest edition to MisFit Farm.
These two cute little fellows, and as shown here: 
there are two of them, were brought to the Farm this very morning as a surprise birthday gift for K. Thanks to laws against driving while logging on to the Internet, K. hopefully will not see this dispatch from MisFit Farm before tomorrow.
I always thought I was good at keeping a secret. This has been absolutely the hardest thing to do. Logistically, it was a snap. With K out of town and a very, very thin story about running to look at the pens at an exotic poultry farm with our neighbors, Steve and Carolyn, the aspiring exotic bird breeders, to get an idea of what the proper pens should be built like, grabbing a few hours of un-accounted-for time was easy.
This ruse would place me out of pocket long enough to drive to Florence, KS and back, and was boring enough to not elicit too many follow-up questions from K that will require heaping tall tales on top of tall tales. It has been the almost-slips in casual conversation that have nearly busted me. An offhand comment about the ridiculous price of gas at a Lawrence gas station nearly prompted a comparison to the price of gas on the turnpike. Which, I should not know because I would not theoretically have taken the turnpike for any reason today, and which, for those interested, is $.20 more expensive in Lawrence.
These guys came from the same place where we have obtained the rest of our herd. They are full-bred fainters, born March 2nd. They are not brothers, but they were born within minutes of each other and have been fast friends since then. When I pulled up at the Janzen’s farm, they were both out loose just following Phoebe around in the yard. Phoebe was absolutely correct, these guys are amazingly docile.
So here’s the ideal plan for the surprise: K should get home very late tonight. With any luck, it will be late enough that it will be too dark to see into the pen we have set up where they are staying. The boys should be asleep for the night, so they won’t make any noise, and we will just mosey on into the house and into bed for the night. Tomorrow morning, as the sun is coming up, the boys will begin to cry. So just outside the bedroom window, there they will be. As our friend, Ev, pictured K’s home-coming like a Christmas morning, this is how I envision the ideal surprise goat discovery. I have this picture of K rushing outside in her bathrobe, grinning ear-to-ear, baby goats scrambling all over her lap.
Just in case this scenario plays itself out, I have cut back all the cockleburs. This is the voice of experience speaking: there is nothing worse than cockleburs in terrycloth.
The other potential scenario is that K gets home tonight and is unusually alert and observant. She notices something in the kennel, goes over to check it out, and finds her birthday surprises. Then she rushes into the kennel, grinning ear-to-ear, baby goats scrambling all over her lap.
Either way, I win. K is homecoming, ear-to-ear grinning, baby goats scrambling, dogs dancing, life is good.
I always thought I was good at keeping a secret. This has been absolutely the hardest thing to do. Logistically, it was a snap. With K out of town and a very, very thin story about running to look at the pens at an exotic poultry farm with our neighbors, Steve and Carolyn, the aspiring exotic bird breeders, to get an idea of what the proper pens should be built like, grabbing a few hours of un-accounted-for time was easy.
This ruse would place me out of pocket long enough to drive to Florence, KS and back, and was boring enough to not elicit too many follow-up questions from K that will require heaping tall tales on top of tall tales. It has been the almost-slips in casual conversation that have nearly busted me. An offhand comment about the ridiculous price of gas at a Lawrence gas station nearly prompted a comparison to the price of gas on the turnpike. Which, I should not know because I would not theoretically have taken the turnpike for any reason today, and which, for those interested, is $.20 more expensive in Lawrence.
These guys came from the same place where we have obtained the rest of our herd. They are full-bred fainters, born March 2nd. They are not brothers, but they were born within minutes of each other and have been fast friends since then. When I pulled up at the Janzen’s farm, they were both out loose just following Phoebe around in the yard. Phoebe was absolutely correct, these guys are amazingly docile.
So here’s the ideal plan for the surprise: K should get home very late tonight. With any luck, it will be late enough that it will be too dark to see into the pen we have set up where they are staying. The boys should be asleep for the night, so they won’t make any noise, and we will just mosey on into the house and into bed for the night. Tomorrow morning, as the sun is coming up, the boys will begin to cry. So just outside the bedroom window, there they will be. As our friend, Ev, pictured K’s home-coming like a Christmas morning, this is how I envision the ideal surprise goat discovery. I have this picture of K rushing outside in her bathrobe, grinning ear-to-ear, baby goats scrambling all over her lap.
Just in case this scenario plays itself out, I have cut back all the cockleburs. This is the voice of experience speaking: there is nothing worse than cockleburs in terrycloth.
The other potential scenario is that K gets home tonight and is unusually alert and observant. She notices something in the kennel, goes over to check it out, and finds her birthday surprises. Then she rushes into the kennel, grinning ear-to-ear, baby goats scrambling all over her lap.
Either way, I win. K is homecoming, ear-to-ear grinning, baby goats scrambling, dogs dancing, life is good.
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