The Glamorous Life of a Goat Girl

Here in southern Italy, our summers are long, hot, and very dry. So when we got a hay delivery back in June, we were able to leave part of it (which didn’t fit in our storage area) just outside our own fencing, uncovered, no worries of it getting wet.

But now that September has rolled in, the weather forecasters tells us some drops are on the way, so we had to get moving and get those twelve bales covered. And so, yesterday morning, in the stinking heat and humidity that often precedes rainy weather, my husband and I moved those bales one by one, and man were some of them heavy. My sore arms this morning prove it.

The heavier bales were the best quality of hay, of course, chock-full of goodies for the girls, but because it was so hot, I couldn’t even consider wearing long sleeves. So I ended up with this.

Lovely forearms post-hay transport

Lovely forearms post-hay transport

Yay.

When you have any kind of farm animals, you tend to get scratches, scrapes, bruises, insect and spider bites, and other skin lesions that burn, itch, or hurt like heck with some frequency.

You just about always have a piece of hay somewhere on you or in your hair.

You have two sets of shoes (one for goat duties; the other for everything else), and never the twain shall meet.

You wash your hands three hundred and fifty-seven times a day and still have trouble keeping your fingernails clean. On the bright side, you save a lot of money on manicures. What would be the point?

These are just some of the many aspects of the glamorous life of a goat girl (similar to how you know you’re a goat ma).

Just ask Teresa at Eden Hills about her Eau de Buck in Rut for another.

But it’s all worth it for goatie kisses, right?

Who wants a goat kiss?

Who wants a goat kiss?

Pretty much, yes.

But now it’s your turn!

What are your most/least favorite aspects of life as a goat girl (or boy)?

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6 Responses to “The Glamorous Life of a Goat Girl”
  1. 09.03.2012

    They don’t let me get close enough to take exception to anything. That’s my goat problem.

    [Reply]

  2. Deb South
    09.03.2012

    A melting moment is when I’m chastising my one year old wether for jumping the fence yet again and roaming outside the confines and he lays his head back and looks me right in the face with a “you know I love you momma” look .

    [Reply]

  3. Ahna
    09.03.2012

    Getting sprayed by amorous bucks! But wait… it’s the slow recognition that the warm, wet sensation on your leg is none other than buck piss!!

    [Reply]

  4. 09.03.2012

    Ha! Yes, you did! (mention Teresa!)

    Quite the smell, eau de Buck…….yes, indeed!

    But it IS all worth those goatie kisses!
    xxxxx

    [Reply]

  5. 09.04.2012

    I was just thinking about that this week as I eyed my own scratched and bleeding, and scraped poop off my shoes for the umpteenth time. ๐Ÿ™‚ I love the sight of the baby goats leaping and cavorting and falling over – love it. ๐Ÿ™‚ I do not enjoy the incessant, whiny bleating of our latest addition. I don’t care for my weird farmer’s tan stripes on my legs that alternate based on what boots I’m wearing. I love the feel of the sun and wind as I’m out building fences. ๐Ÿ™‚ It’s not an easy life, but I love it more than I can say. ๐Ÿ™‚

    [Reply]

  6. 09.13.2012

    I love it when I get a chance to sit in the goat pen and brush my goats with a stiff plastic curry comb and they fight over who gets to be closest. Inevitably, one of them crawls into my lap to lie down like she did when she was a baby. They are totally awesome. I do get tired of picking up all the stuff they knock off the shelves in the barn. One of them can jump up on the hay loft when we don’t have it full. When she gets there she has full access to all the shelves and everything on them. In 2.3 seconds pretty much everything is on the floor. Except for the pencils. She tries to eat those…

    [Reply]


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