Friday, June 14, 2013

A Bear on the Road?

It was dark as we drove home last night.  Winding down the country road to our home, classic 70's music on the radio, Bex suddenly exclaimed, "What was THAT!?"


Deadly serious:  "I think I saw a bear by the side of the road."


I asked questions about what she'd seen and where as I looked for a safe place to turn around.  We *had* to check this out.  As we drove, I told her about the two bear sightings in Sonoma County that I knew of - both at places we'd been to recently:  Occidental Art and Ecology Center, and St. Dorothy's Rest and Retreat.

As we approached the area she'd seen the animal, we saw a dark shadow on the side of the road.  It was big.  It was bigger than a coyote, black as night, barely visible in the gloom, and I was beginning to think that she was right!

She cautioned me not to get too close as I slowed the car, making sure that no one was coming (absolutely NO ONE was on the road at that hour).  I turned the headlights toward the creature, and it squarely faced the car.

I said, "What?  It's a pig!"

We have wild pigs in the area, so not too shocking, but this was BIG.  Uncertain, I continued to slowly inch the car closer, as Bex urgently told me not to.  "It will ram the car, Mom!"

"It's a boar!  Wow - that's the biggest boar ..."


The animal turned slightly and I could see that it was neither a bear, nor a wild pig, nor even a wild boar pig, but a dog.

I turned the car back onto the road, as we began to laugh hysterically, both from the relief that this wasn't a dangerous wild animal, but also at how silly we both felt!  As the adrenaline subsided and we turned the car back around to head home, we discussed how absolutely massive that dog was.  I wish it'd been lighter outside so we could have seen it more closely to figure out the breed.

So - that was our "bear" adventure.  Maybe we'll see one, but hopefully not too close to home.  Whether we ever do or not, we have a funny story to relive and retell for many years to come!

Saturday, May 11, 2013

Pushing Past Fear of Failure

I've had a bit of a struggle this morning.

I'm making goat milk glycerine soap.  I've been doing this off and on as a hobby for quite some time and recently started listing it seriously on Etsy

Then an order came in that changed my life and my view of this whole thing - a significant order for a vacation rental.  The possibilities expanded.  The abyss of the unknown opened.

I started off this morning exploring options and looking at places other than Etsy and word of mouth to sell my goat milk soap.  As I did that, I started doubting myself.  Then I ran across another local soap maker and started doubting myself more.  The questions start running through my head about the viability of this venture, and then the accusatory and mean voice in my head starts up.  The one-way conversation is telling me that people are being nice, that some like the soap but that it's no better than others.  The voice tells me that what I'm doing isn't creative or "real" craftsmanship, that I am taking the easy way out.  That if I were a "real" artisan, I'd put on the gloves and goggles and learn how to make soap from way-basic-scratch.  I am a fraud.  My soap is too fragile to put in a market.  Even though I love my packaging and see the benefits and value, the voice tells me that it's lame and cheap.  It tells me that I don't have the capital to invest into this and that starting slow and building up is stupid, that I am wasting my time.

How the heck do I get past this?  What keeps me moving forward instead of digging in my heels to a stop, putting away my dreams and goals, and settle miserably back onto the treadmill that I want to escape, that is stifling me, that doesn't allow me to live the life I want to and to be the authentic me that I want to be every minute of every day?

I've done this before.  I've stopped, using excuses.  This time feels different, and so there's a push-back today to the negativity.  I know I like this.  I know I use it every day.  I know others like it.  It may appear "easy," but there are components (goat milk) that are unique (raw, homemade, not store-bought) that make it special and more beneficial than what is currently available.  I know people find it helpful, enjoyable.  I am gathering feedback from family and friends and making adjustments.  I am brainstorming.  I am learning.  I am making preparations to take the leap.  I will.

I Am. Going. To. Do. This.

I Am.

Sunday, March 3, 2013

Stray Goat Shuffle

Saturday morning, the first thing I did was check to see if the stray goats were still in the pen.  They were, and they actually appeared quite content!

I went about getting them some food, and then set up the "kid pen" for my own goats, rather than try to move these goats again.  They are still quite timid, and though they'll come close, they will not allow me to touch them.  With their horns, I also felt they were safer in soft fencing rather than wire fencing, where they could get caught and injure themselves more seriously.

My goats were not happy at all about bypassing the new goats in the place they were accustomed to going, and crowded the gate every time I came by, wanting to get back out of the kid pen.  Eventually, everyone was settled in and I went about my morning business until leaving to pick Bex up from her sleepover.  Before we went home, we stopped by the Healdsburg Animal Shelter to report the found animals, and I was told we were in County jurisdiction.  She gave me their phone number and collected information on the goats we had found in case someone called.  I planned to call the County when I got home.

We talked about the goats on our way home, and when we got there she went in to see them.  She was able to touch one three times, but then they got playful.  We're used to playing with our goats in this pen.  They run and bounce around, playing tag and head butting each other.  What I did not recognize was that these goats are much leaner and more agile than my dairy goats.  Suddenly, the oldest one, who I think is the mom of the others, leaped over the four-foot fence, clearing it easily.  This sent the others into a panic.  The escapee came back immediately, and started circling the enclosure to find a way back in with her herd mates.  She simultaneously and vigorously avoided coming near me and Bex, who were actually trying to help her get back in!  Things went downhill from there.  One of the other goats leaped over the fence.  Then one of the smallest amazed us by running straight toward a large oak tree located on the other side of the fence, leaping up, landing five feet off the ground with all four feet planted on the side of the tree trunk, and then catapulting off the tree to the side, over the fence, and to freedom.  Acrobats!  The last remaining goat panicked and tried to push its way through the fencing, getting caught up, but then getting free with a little help from me, but moving too quickly for me to catch it.  It soon found the section of fence that had been pushed over a bit in the pandemonium and got loose, as well.

We looked at the goats back out on the driveway, stunned.  They were headed back toward the road, so I asked Bex to hurry down and close the gate while I grabbed leashes to see if we could either catch them again or drive them back into the pen.

I walked down the driveway, and my phone rang.  It was the Healdsburg shelter, asking if these goats were pygmies.  I told her no, that I thought they were a Boer/LaMancha cross, and she asked if I had called the County yet.  I explained that I hadn't because shortly after we got home, the goats had escaped and we were trying to catch them again.  She took my address and offered to call the County for me, which offer I gladly accepted, though I didn't think there'd be any goats to catch when they arrived.

As I walked down the  driveway, I was surprised to see that there was no one in sight.  No goats, no Bex.  I called her name, but heard no reply as I went down to the still open gate.  I hoped that she hadn't thought I meant the main gate, which is 1/2 mile down the drive.  She, of course, had left her cell phone at home.  I hurried back to the car and started driving down to find them.  She rounded the bend and climbed into the car, having followed them about 1/4 mile down the driveway before they took off onto a hill.  We tried to herd them back toward the house, but they slipped easily through barbed wire fencing and onto the retreat center property.  We figured they were long gone.

When we got back to the house, I contacted the folks at the retreat center to let them know they had goats. Then Bette stopped by and we talked about the escape and her efforts to find out who they belong to.  While we were talking, I received a phone call from Justin at Animal Control, who was at the main gate.  I told him how he could get in and that we didn't have the goats any longer.  I walked to the main driveway to meet him.  I stood on the driveway and looked down the hill.  Much to my surprise, in the exact same location they'd been discovered the night before, there were ... four stray goats in the pasture!

I called Bette, and we reviewed the situation with Justin, moving vehicles and cutting a small section of fencing to be able to herd them into a smaller secure area so Justin could catch them.  Nancy wasn't home, but her dog, Tim, was.  Though we didn't know all of his commands, Bette knew she could tell him to lie down and that he would do most of the work on his own.  Bette, Tim and I walked into the lower section of the field, and slowly started pressing the goats toward the opening in the fence.  Justin was off to the side, to make sure that they didn't bolt for the hill.  As we got closer to the goats and they began to look a little anxious, Tim kept looking at Bette, as if to say, "Hey, what do you want me to do?"  As the goats filed in through the gate opening, I wanted to shout and dance for joy, but contained myself so as not to amp up the level of their anxiety.  We all went through the opening and secured the gate, getting prepared to catch and put the goats into Justin's truck.

We learned that they tended to go toward the place they'd come into the enclosure, which put them into a nice, tight corner, making it easier to catch them.  The horns were a big problem, though, so after we got them to a place they could be caught, Justin ended up holding onto the horns while Bette got the lead around its neck.  Then, it was a matter of bringing the fighting goat out of the enclosure to the truck, up the ramp, into the truck, then removing the lead and starting over again.  Justin used the horns a lot to move them around, and while Becca and I had a hard time with this (Becca even more so), I knew that it was probably necessary and wasn't going to hurt them badly.  It was an extremely strenuous venture, and we'd take a break between each goat to catch breath a little bit.  Justin commented at one point, "I'm not doing enough cardio," and we laughed.  This was a real workout!

It took about an hour for all of the goats to be safely tucked away in to the truck so they could be transported to the farm section of the shelter.  They'll be cared for there and hopefully their owner will be able to find them.  Even though they were here for just a short time, I miss them already.  They are sweet little things that need a little taming.  It's probably a good thing they had horns, or I would have been seriously tempted to hold onto them if we couldn't find their owner! 

Friday, March 1, 2013

Three Grandmas, Four Stray Goats, and a Sheep Dog

My darling daughter has found a church-based youth group through a couple of her friends at school.  She's been going once a week after school for a couple months now.  They are going to start a band, this small group of 14.  So they are having a sleepover at the church tonight to learn some songs.  They'll cook dinner together, play music and video games, try to get some sleep, eat a good breakfast in the morning, and then I'll pick Bex up.  The three adult coordinators who will be present for the night are kind-hearted, firm, hip enough for the kids, and make it fun.  It will be interesting to see where this goes.  Sometimes there are way too many flashbacks to about 30 years ago.  It is fun tho'.

So ...  I get off work at 5pm, exhausted, my wrists and hands aching from an overly stressful and busy day.  I pick up the kid and we head to the grocery store to grab some ice cream for the overnighter.  I've already stashed cajeta (caramel sauce) in the car as a special treat for the kids.  We are headed down the freeway toward the church when I get a call from the "next door" neighbor at the retreat center.  (We are city blocks apart from most of our neighbors.)  Now, Carolyn doesn't usually call.  We aren't sharing care for a baby goat and exchanging milk for empty bottles.  So ... I'm worried something is wrong at the ranch, so Bex answers the phone for me and holds it to my ear while I drive (gotta be hands free!).

She tells me that her son went for a walk and reported that he saw four black and white goats near the road on our driveway.  She wondered if they were mine.  Well, that's a fine thing to wonder as I'm trucking down the freeway about a half hour away from home, headed in the opposite direction!  I don't know if they are mine or Bette's.  We agree I'll call her when I get home and let her know if anyone's missing or if we need help goat wrangling.

I decide to call Bette to see if she can check and count goat heads.  She's in Santa Rosa, too, she tells me, as Becca holds the phone to my ear still.  She'll call Nancy, who's at her house, and ask her to check.  I get the call after I drop Bex off that all our goats are accounted for.  So who are the mystery goats?

I call Carolyn to let her know they're not ours and to ask more questions.  Does "black and white" mean black goats and white goats or multicolor?  That would narrow down potential escapees.  They were multicolored.  Big or small?  Big.  That rules out ALL of our goats.

I get home about 6:45 pm.  There are no goats or any animals in sight as I drive up the road to the house.  I get the milking equipment out, turn the burners on low to start heating dinner, preheat the oven, and head out to take care of the chickens.  I figure whoever lost their goats has found them.  It's getting dark when I head over to my goats to get them out and to the milk stand and barn.  Bette drives up about then and stops her car on the drive directly opposite of me.  I don't understand why ...  If she wanted to chat, she usually drives to the house.  Then she backs her car up slightly and her headlights shine directly on ... four goats in the pasture across the drive.  I'm shocked.

I walk around and down gravel and dirt in the dark to take a look, seeing four mostly white critters with brown (black?) necks and heads (Boer), but small elf ears (possibly a LaMancha cross) and long horns.  They are slender, some young looking, but not kids.  They shy away, but don't run.  They come closer to the fence when I squat down and put my hand through.  They won't come too close, they won't let me touch them.  Bette and I discuss options, and then decide she will go get Nancy, I will get grain and leashes, and we'll see if we can get them into the pen I use for goats who are about to deliver their kids, the "kid pen."

She leaves, and I trudge in the dark to grab two large scoops of grain and sling four leashes around my neck.  I go back to the fence and call to the goats, rattling the grain around to draw their attention.  When I hold a small container out through the fencing, they sniff the container.  Not the grain.  I put some in my hand and stick it through the fence, so they sniff my hand.  Not the grain.  It's pretty clear they have no idea what the stuff is, so seeing them munching on grass, I go back to the house and grab a flake of alfalfa.

That works.  They eat a little bit from my hand, and then slowly follow me down the fence line.  We are inching our way toward the gate when Bette's car arrives, drives past me, and goes to the gate.  I hear the gate open, but am focused on moving the goats that direction.  Then I hear a voice gently calling and see a flashlight in the pasture.  It's Nancy, and she is speaking softly and gently, but I can't understand what she's saying at first.  Then, in the light of my headlamp I see a dog approach the goats.  They see him, too.  I understand then that my alfalfa trick will not work nearly as quickly as a seasoned, well trained, sheep dog.  I step back softly and slowly to observe.

I've seen dogs work sheep before, but only in an arena or a large field on a bright afternoon with a man's big voice.  It's pitch dark now except for the light of the waning full moon, flashlights and car headlights down the driveway.  The white coats of the goats gleam as they bunch together, horns occasionally throwing a dull spark of light.  Nancy's soothing voice quietly directs her dog as the dance begins.  He moves swiftly, then slows or drops to the ground.  The goats watch him.  They move toward the gate.  It's amazing to see the movement in the direction we want them to go.  They are not panicked or frightened, simply very aware.  I have the alfalfa in hand, and think they may follow me while moving away from the pressure of the dog behind them, so start slowly walking toward the gate.  Nancy calls out to see if someone is there, and I tell her.  She asks me to walk behind the animals, which makes sense - to keep the gentle pressure up, rather than stop their flow with my presence in front of them.  When they get near the gate, I quickly move past it to guide them back up the driveway when they come out.  They begin to walk up the drive and then get distracted by my goats, which are still out in their pen.  They leap across the ditch and get to know each other, walking around the fence line as Nancy and her dog follow.  I hurry to the "kid pen," where I want them to go, and put the alfalfa in the bin and open the gate.

The goats move up onto my driveway, but won't budge toward the shed and the kid pen.  They keep dodging through the trees back to my goats.  The three of us are grandmothers.  Bette's children are grown and a little older than my oldest children; Nancy's grandson is my Becca's age, and I'll be an official grandma in six months.  The three of us are trudging through leaves and trees and rough terrain in the dark, trying to get these critters to obey and get into the kid pen for safe keeping.

After quite a while of this, getting them closer, only to have them take off back another 10-15 feet to meet up with my yelling and running goats, we decide that I'll bring one of mine out to see if they'll follow her to the kid pen.  I get inside the fence and clip a leash onto the first one I see, who is making the most noise, which happens to be Salsa.  She's also white and the herd queen, aka boss.  I walk her out and toward the kid pen after securing the gate and putting the board back up to keep the other goats in.

Then, the three smallest of my goats escape.  Running pell mell, they head toward the milk stand and - I think - the barn.  That would be good.  Lily is still inside the pen, but she can stay for now.  I can't turn Salsa over to Bette, because she is much smaller than I am, and Salsa has hauled me onto my keister before.  With Salsa in hand, I get the goats to run to the barn, but then mom Imbri turns around and runs back toward the strays.  Her kids follow.  I get Salsa onto the milk stand to free my hands, and grab the collar of Moonshine, the wether.  Usually they'll follow each other, and the other two start to come to me, but Imbri, his mom, is being difficult.  I'm able to grab her collar and head to the barn with my hands full, calling Luna to follow, which she does.  She won't go into the barn until the other two are closed in, tho', so I have to herd her to the barn and skootch her inside.

As I'm walking back to the front of the house, I smell my dinner.  Uh-oh.

By the time I get to the milk stand, Salsa is yelling because she's run out of grain already, and I hear from Bette and Nancy that the stray goats are getting INSIDE the pen that my goats just vacated.  I see one of them push down the soft wire fencing and step through and over it.  Lily is still in there, and starts to challenge one of the strays, but it has horns and she isn't quite sure what to do.  I get inside and grab her.  Bette and Nancy secure the gate while I put Lily into the barn and get Salsa more grain.

We decide to let the strays stay in the pen overnight. 

They're close enough to the house that they'll be safer from coyotes than where they were (the reason we decided to catch them). I throw them some alfalfa and fill the water bucket, thanking Nancy and Bette profusely.  Bette will call the owner of the dairy next door to see if he knows who the goats might belong to.  We wonder if they might have been "dumped" at the end of the driveway since the gate was open.  I still need to finish feeding the chickens and milk Salsa.  The chores are done as if through water - I'm out of breath and tired.  It only takes 10 minutes to finish milking, and then I sit down and look at the time and just breathe.  It's been about an hour and a half since we started all of this.  I'm beat.

With all the goats running around, plus the dog doing his job, and the three grannies trying to herd goats, it was another night that needed a web cam.  It's a night I'll always remember, and laugh.  A funny, if exhausting, adventure, and we did it. 

Now to get some rest and figure out how in the world I'm going to move them across the driveway to the kid pen, where I really do want them to be.  I have to get my goats out of the barn tomorrow, and these guys are kinda in the way of that.

But I'll figure that all out in the morning.