'Nuff maaaed.
The publicist has FINALLY let us out to graze.
All of this work to get the stupid berry garden fenced in.
OK - maybe I MIGHT have tried to eat those strawberry plants.
I'm not maaaaing.
She did let us out but she watched us like a HAWK.
I needed to get out.
How else was I going to teach my kids how to graze?
How else was I going to show them the joys of the wood pile?
The publicist should understand these things.
It was a lovely day after all that miserable April snow.
I took my boys to the wood pile and let them play.
That combination of grass and fiber makes for a tasty meal.
They had a great time hopping on the logs and taking nibble breaks.
Little Rudy spent some time practicing his balance work for the next goat Olympics.
He is one bold buckling for being so teeny, tiny.
I also showed them how to find the yummiest grass to eat.
This is an important skill for a growing goat kid!
Rory excelled at grass eating.
I have brilliant kids.
They enjoyed their time out of the pen.
So did I.
I was able to eat to my heart's content.
Mmmmm, bark.
