Then the bad news came, the orphan kid had already been adopted, I was too late. I will admit this was a major letdown to me. In the seven minutes I had been aware of the kid's existence and availability I had already been compiling a list of possible names in my head, was dreaming of dressing him in a little sweatshirt for the few colds nights we have coming, and cooing over him while feeding him. Alas it was not meant to be although I know we would have provided him with a home any goat would love. Right??
To ease my pain I sorted through some of my recent pictures of our current two goat residents taken in November, December and January. Sniffle.
Bubba in December during our 24 hours of snow; yet another terrible naming job that must be attributed to my Dad. I shudder every time I have to tell someone his name.
Bubba and Billy (yep - you guessed it - another name from dad) in the snow
Napping with the chickens in November
One morning in late November I realized I was missing a feedbag. Jason and I looked everywhere for it. We finally found it wrapped around Bubba's neck. Apparently he smelled the remnants of food in it, stuck his head in it while it was hanging on the hook, then managed to pull it down and wrap it around him.