Good Monday morning to all you critter and land loving folks. I have wondered several times this week as I trekked out to milk if my Grandpa would have gotten a chuckle out of my ambitions. He owned a dairy, and as my dad would claim Grandpa was ahead of the system as it was the best juvenile corrections center around. An excellent way to keep tabs on kids before and after-school activities. I am so fond of the idea of milking, but I think it is because I was one generation removed from this ball and chain of a business. I do know that the dairy made my dad the man he is today though, and he wouldn’t have been so capable of handling the workload he has today without that in his work history. I do like to think this way of life is in my blood, I think Grandpa probably would have had a tip or two for me and gotten a good laugh out of it all.

About a week ago on the funny farm, I decided the baby goats were big enough to be moved into the larger part of the corral. I had moved mommas to kid where I could keep heat lamps and give them a little more protection when babies were born. I wanted to move them when I could keep an eye on Mocha the milk cow to see how she would handle all the new roommates.  Everyone seemed to be in a smooth transition. Then at the beginning of this week, I notice Mocha had become much more vocal, but it wasn’t a normal moo, it was her momma moo. Some of you now think I have lost my mind, others of you know exactly what I am talking about. Well, the more I watched I realized sweet Mocha was having a case of mistaken identity. She was certain she had birthed four baby goats, and she was all about mothering them. She was even letting one try to nurse off of her, and she was a worried mess trying to keep tabs on those four little buggers as they jumped around and ran in and out of the panel on the corral. So back over the fence, they will go to the smaller corral, Mocha can keep tabs on them there, and it will be healthier for them all! Not as handy for me, but all of that did encourage me in several ways. I have little doubt now that Mocha will most likely take any orphan calf we attempt to put on her, and she will be a good momma nurse cow. And also in the span of those few days, she never got feisty with me around her babies as I was in and out messing with them. Win! Win! Feeling pretty good about this working cow…blessings to you, yours, and your operation.

Texting gloves are actually milking gloves.

Mocha with two of her “babies.”

Winter is settling in around here.