Now that we've had a few warm days, mud season is here. The almost two feet of snow is nearly gone, but has left lots and lots of mud behind. Our younger corgi is reveling in the squishy squashy feeling between his toes, while the other one minces around like a girl trying not to get his pretty little paws dirty. Very entertaining to watch the two of them out together.
Since the weather is no longer in the negative digits, we've started to let the goats out of the barn. One day last week after I returned home from work, when I did my usual check on the goats I noticed that it was very quiet. Too quiet. No goats in the pasture. No goats in the pen.
The dogs and I wandered around the side of the barn. Still no goats. We looked in the woods. No goats. Usually, if they get out they do not go too far. Being the stomachs-on-legs that they are, as soon as they find a good meal, that's usually where they stop.
Feeling rather concerned, I finally went into the barn to check on the other herd, just to make sure nothing had happened to them. And that's when I found the missing goats. Apparently, they had gone out of their pen, into their pasture, through their gate into the other pasture (of course they found a hole in the fence the first day they were out), and then back into the barn on the other side. Why they chose to go back inside on such a nice day is beyond me. I am also not sure how they managed to open the barn doors (but I suspect that a certain husband did not lock the doors properly the night before).
Happily all goats are fine, although confined to quarters until we get the fence mended.
