They're Here!

As of Saturday, just after noon, we are goat owners. One of our cousins, who keeps a couple dozen goats himself, brought us a male and two females.

They are spending their time checking out their new surroundings, which include an open pasture as well as a wooded area.

The billy is the one with a brown and black head. The other two are girls and are creamy white.

I'm not sure the boy is happy with the new situation yet, based on his expression. What do you think?

When Worlds Collide

Yesterday, the phones and computer were down for a while at my husband's office for a scheduled upgrade, so he helped out with chores at home for a while. Here he is, in his chicken-tending suit:

It was nice to have some company for morning chores and to have someone to lift the filled waterer. He's back at work today, and the children and I are at home, so things are closer to their usual routine. Now, if I can just find someone to lift the water bath canner...

Things Can Get a Bit Scary Around Here

Yesterday was one of those days when I remember that I don't live in a Disney movie, where all the critters are cute and friendly. I had been outside with the children, watering plants, when my five-year-old daughter started swinging on the playset. She said, "Mom! There's a spider!"

To be clear, that's not unusual. We have lots of spiders around the house, most of them are no trouble and they help keep the fly population down. This time, however, when I went to see the spider, my daughter said, "I think it's a black widow." Uh-oh.

First, let me say, I'm proud of my little girl's ability to identify dangerous spiders. Second, let me say, "EEEEEWWWWW!!!" I attempted to smash the spider between my flip-flops. Unfortunately, it then disappeared. Hopefully, it fell on the ground and died. Hopefully.

Later, the drama continued. My older daughter went to the chicken coop to check on the girls. It's been pretty hot lately, and chickens don't do well in excessive heat, so she wanted to be sure everyone was okay. She came back a few minutes later and said, "There's a snake in the chicken coop. It's just a black snake, but it's pretty big."

First let me say, I'm proud of my daughter's ability to identify a non-venomous snake (and not scream when she saw it). Second, let me say, "EEEEEEWWWWW!!!" As luck would have it, Superhero Dad had already left his office and was on the way home. He went out to the coop, searched the area thoroughly and...the snake was gone.

So, that's life in the country. How are things at your place?

Country Mouse

One of the things that happens when you live in the country is that mice sometimes come in for a visit. I'm not sure what they think they are going to find. I clean up most of the crumbs, I really do. But, field mice just want to visit once in a while. And Thursday morning was one of those times.

I was dozing nicely about 6:45 am, when I heard a commotion in the bathroom. The sound of the trash can being tossed around, followed immediately by my husband's voice calling me. I thought he might be sick, but noooooo...he was trying to catch a mouse. I opened the bathroom door to see my husband, in what I now refer to as his official "mouse catching suit", a business suit he happened to be wearing at the time. He was bent over with the trash can in one hand and something else, not sure what (a toilet plunger?), in the other hand.

Just as I opened the door, he then said, "Close the door! Close the door!" Turns out, he HAD the mouse in the trash can, but had failed to account for the amazing acrobatics of a frightened rodent. It had jumped OUT of the trash can and was headed for ME.

It managed to escape, and was later spotted by our daughter in the kitchen. The cat, obviously too well fed, wasn't interested in giving chase. Frodo the Wonder Yorkie, however, has kept a pretty steady vigil at the base of the stove.

I'm counting on you, Frodo. Show that mouse who's boss.

Stop Theif!

It was 2:30 am the other night. I heard a noise on the front porch, like metal banging around. Assuming the chickens were still in their coop, the dog was in the carrier and the indoor cat was still indoors, I thought maybe the outside cat was chasing a mouse. But really, she's usually a much more stealthy hunter than that. So, I did what any self-respecting country woman does. I woke my husband.

He grunted once or twice, grabbed a t-shirt and moccasins and stumbled to the window. He looked out, then turned on the light. And grunted again. Deciding that most burglars, even the dumb ones, don't make that much noise, he opened the door and went onto the porch. He saw movement and looked into the yard.

Him: "It's a raccoon. It's got the cat's food bowl."

Me: "What?!"

Him: "Jinx's bowl. He's trying to steal it."

Me: "Hey! Bring that back, ya' stupid raccoon!"

By this time, hubby was out in the yard, with a flashlight, chasing the raccoon. It dropped the bowl and disappeared into the woods. Hubby retrieved the bowl and brought it back up, laughing. Mostly at me, I think.

"Great," I was thinking, "something else I have to remember to do every night, bring in the bowl from the porch." Then, another thought hit me. "Um, where's the water bowl?"

We looked around for a few minutes. It was nowhere to be seen. So now, I'm thinking, "Our son would love to have a coon-skin cap."

Stupid raccoon.

We've slipped through a wormhole in time

It's about 1865 around our place this weekend. A Civil War reenactment group is here this weekend. They've set up camp on the property and we woke up to gun shots this morning (although not really louder than the first Saturday of deer season).

The men involved have come from North and South Carolina, Georgia, Virginia and I heard rumors of someone from Kentucky. They spent months preparing for the weekend, including building a bridge across a stream on the property.

Shhhh...we snuck over to the Confederate camp with fresh eggs from our chickens. We put the eggs in a muslin bag because a styrofoam carton just didn't fit with the spirit of the day.

Steve, one of the guys, took lots of time with my children answering their questions, showing them his gear and letting them taste rations. My 9-year-old son loved it! I think we can call this a school day at our homeschool.

Um, ignore the anachronistic car in the background.

And Frodo the Wonder Yorkie has been captured by The Cousin Who Shall Not Be Named.

Going for a Walk

I love to walk to the mailbox with my children. When we lived in the suburbs, that wasn't so exciting--you know, down to the end of the paved driveway and back. But now that we're in the country, it's a grand adventure.

Especially when there are puddles begging to be stomped in.