I’ve been trying to figure out what to breed which does to whatever buck.  I really don’t like kidding any in December, I refuse to kid in January and I guess that I will breed some to kid the first of February.  The rest–end of March to June.  Decisions. Decisions.

One can’t sit inside and think today.  No, the weather is great here in paradise.  But the roofers are here and it is a bit loud around the house.  Roofers, window replacers and hail dent repair specialists have been booked solid since the end of May when that hailstorm shredded Fargo.  During college, I worked a few jobs stripping roofs and nailing shingles.  I learned real quick that was not a career that I wanted to pursue.  There is money to be made in that line of work and I respect those that do it.  But it isn’t for me.

As the sun came up this morning, I sorted a few goats off that are going to get a free ride to the sale barn.  Namely, the dairy goats buck kids and a barren bitch that hasn’t bred in the past 3 years.  Time to punt.  Once, I had them sorted, a couple of does decided that they needed to pair off on opposite sides of a panel and just beat the living hell out of it.  For NO reason.  These does had literally just been together.

If you were to put me on the pitching mound in Fenway Park, hand me a baseball and ask me to throw a strike, it probably wouldn’t happen.  But, if you put me in a corral, hand me a rock and ask me to drill a an object 60 feet away that is destroying a panel for no apparent reason….well, I turn into a cross between Greg Maddux and Roger Clemens.  Precision with heat.  STRIKE!!!!!

I just got done soaking a wethers feet in buckets of epsom salt.  I don’t know if it will work, but it can’t hurt.  The stupid things that we do for a show animal.

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