July began with a road trip to Echolight Farm near Lake Michigan on the Upper Peninsula.
Charon boarded the Goatmobile for leg one of the long voyage to her new home.
Echolight was only an overnight stop. Here she is in her luxury accommodations
checking out the residents
who included MeadowWild alumni Chill (off chilling under a shady tree) and the gorgeous Tzugamushie.
Mooshie was one of Cheeky's triplets from 2018.
Echolight is also home to the cutest puppies in the world.
Barb was tempted to smuggle one out under her shirt, but resisted the urge.
Road construction and occasional one-way bottlenecks made for a much longer day than anticipated; we left at 6:50 am and didn't return until 10:00 pm.
The next morning friend Kirsten kindly transported Charon from Echolight to Coldwater, MI , where she was picked up by her new goat-mom Lauren
and ferried the rest of the way to her wonderful new home at Find Hope Farm in Pataskala, OH,
where she got used to her surroundings
and met her new herd mates
and goat-dad Todd.
(photos courtesy of Lauren)
With Charon gone, her former roommate Tzest rejoined the ladies in the barn;
she loves to provoke them and she’s young, quick and agile enough to evade punishment.
We planned to move the now mature Niñeos (Asgard and Mongo) into the empty Gentlemen’s Club; we walked the whole herd over to that area, intending then to sneak the ladies out and secure the boys in their new lodging
but as they neared the back door, the goats unaccountably went wild like slam dancers in a mosh pit,
Then Barb felt a sting on her hand. Turns out that yellowjackets
(maybe from UW-Superior across the bay)
had just established a nest in the Gentlemen’s Club wall, coming and going through gaps the goats had created over years of chewing on the siding boards.
Walls make a perfect site for wasp nests, which are hard to to eliminate because they’re so well protected.
Other wasps are building a condo under the eaves in the back of the house, but they don’t pose a threat to the goats.
We managed to get everyone out of danger, and returned the boys to their pen on the north side of the barn.
They were escape artists from birth,
regularly sneaking through fences
and out of frantic mom Nine’s control.
Sure enough, they also managed to break out of the barn before dawn one morning and go for a walkabout, nibbling on the rose bush among other treats. We chased them unsuccessfully through the dusk, finally propping their pen open and waiting for them to return for breakfast on their own before we snuck up and secured them again (for the moment).
July was unusually hot & dry all month.
Gooseberry Falls above Duluth partially dried up
and the pond next to us is low.
We’re concerned that our shallow well might fail
forcing us to haul in bourbon, beer and wine to substitute for water.
Lots of Monarchs are flitting around
the abundant milkweed, a drought-tolerant plant that has proliferated at MeadowWild this summer.
Less welcome flying visitors include the aforementioned wasps and the inevitable flies that buzz the goat barn
which has begun to resemble Mammoth Cave, with fly strips in place of stalactites.
This little guy has been hanging out in the barn (while kindred frogs and toads multiply in the grass and trees).
If only we could import Wallace's flying frogs from Indonesia, they would sail around the barn and help with fly control.
Spring babies have grown into teenagers, including the goslings on the pond (as big now as their parental units)
and fawns who traipse by the house at all hours.
Elders from the nearby Fond du Lac Reservation have proposed re-establishing elk (omashkooz in Ojibwe) in NE Minnesota.
When they arrive, they’re sure to be welcomed by the MeadowWild herd.
We often hear coyotes yipping and howling nearby and occasionally see them mousing in the back meadow. The field cam caught this visitor checking out Mount Compost just west of the barn
and playing with the goat-poop-infused waste hay.
Our drought is reminiscent of the Depression Era and brings with it
extreme fire danger.
We would pack up the Goatmobile
and join the Joads’ caravan to the Promised Land,
but California is on fire again.
In addition to conflagrations in our own BWCA, we’re getting smoke from Canadian wildfires.
Skies are hazy and the air hard to breathe.
Our neighbors don’t seem to mind
(at least they’re not saying much about the air quality)
but constitutionals around the neighborhood are probably doing our lungs more harm than good.
What with drought
wildfires
global warming
pestilence
and a major party trying to overthrow democracy,
it’s easy to imagine that the end is nigh
-ish.
But just when despair sets in,
Barb bakes a coconut goats’ milk pie
and Dame Julian’s assurances seem plausible again:
Also, Dustin offers a model of Stoic calm and unconcern in the face of conditions beyond one’s control.
He goes about his day peacefully meditating
and keeping up with the latest cat research on the interwebs:
"We got some responses that the cats were put out with their owners being home all the time and invading their space.”
“Cats are as motivated by food and shelter as many humans, and there is an evolutionary advantage to them feigning interest in their masters in exchange for such things.”
Like Whistler’s Goddam Cat,
Dustin demonstrates an uncanny (but not uncatty) ability to intuit what chair you want to sit in and beat you to it.
And then he looks outraged when he’s gently moved to a different location.
