|And babies make seven.|
"Yes," he yells back, even though he knows I know he is puttering on the porch. Owen putters; puttering is his life. A few minutes later he says, "Mom, Sparkles is making a weird noise. Like an opera singer."
I go outside and hear the noise, see the interesting scene. Sparkles is sprawled out in the part of the yard we call "the dustbowl" with a giant bubble coming out of her behind. Uh oh. Can I bring the negroni with me? Split second calculation: not without spilling. I clamber down the hill and Owen gets towels out of the dryer and we lay them under the goat and I pull on the little black hooves visible inside the bubble and out slides baby number one. A few minutes later, baby number two arrives. Boy and girl. Tiny. Like rabbits.
This was a bit of a surprise. We didn't breed Sparkles, but all of our goats boarded with a very young male over the New Year and apparently something happened. Even if we had been expecting babies, we would not have expected them for another 2 weeks.
These aren't the prettiest kids. From some angles, the girl looks like an albino gorilla. From others, like a sheep. This morning Owen said, "They look so cute all cuddled up. Until you see their faces."
|Trust me. This is a very flattering picture.|