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Lambing and kidding have ended.  Thirty-nine babies have been delivered and what a crew.  When we open the barn doors, there is a zoom of little ones running and chasing in all directions.  Mothers just nod and exhaustingly walk to the pastures to eat.  They are covered with poop tracks all over their backs.  As some lambs run endlessly, others will lie down and observe the day.  Nothing to do but absorb the day.

Of the thirty-nine babies, eight are goats.  There are five black, one red, and three white.  They are the most curious creatures in the barnyard.  Everything is inspected, licked, or  jumped on.  They too run in a gang and run everywhere.  Life is a gas for them.

On June first, the barn is closed for the season.  I cannot wait.  No more poop picking up and spreading hay on the floor.  They will spend the rest of late spring and the summer in the pastures.  If we have one of those strong rainstorms, I will open the barn and let them take shelter.  But as I sit and exhale in relief, I will then need to go on parasite patrol.  Never a break!

© William Churchill 2014