As Melvin listened to Bazzle, he couldn't help but get excited, but at the same time he was a little anxious. As the "Goatfather" he had been the guy who knew how to get things for his fellow goats and it had made him quite wealthy. Apparently word had gotten out to the other farm animals and now there was an opportunity for farm wide distribution...if he could make it happen!
The product in question was "Special Mix". Imagine a pie stuffed with cakes and candy, sprinkled with cookies, and topped with ice cream and you begin to understand how the animals feel about the stuff. Many an animal had fasted themselves for weeks just to get a small taste or to satisfy their need for a fix. The problem was two fold. First, the special mix was kept in metal cans which required thumbs to open. The second problem was more daunting; Even if he could get his hands on it, how would he be able to get it to the other barns while he was stuck here. His initial enthusiasm began to collapse under the weight of these obstacles. When Bazzle turned around to say, "Oh, and they need to have their first delivery in a week", all hope seemed to evaporate.
His train of thought was interrupted by the sound of the tractor pulling up to the barn. It was one of the humans and Melvin immediately signalled to Bazzle to duck back into the wall of the barn. He never could be sure just what these people understood. Besides, while he valued Bazzle's work, he knew that he would not be any use in this situation.
Melvin rested his head against the gate and his gaze was fixed as his mind drifted into space, lulled by the on-going rhythm of the raking. So much straw! He felt sorry for these caregivers doing the same thing day in and day out.
Now, most people don't know this, but goats are the luckiest of all animals, and this was about to be proven once again. A second human entered the barn and a conversation began. The first human, who we will call "Brian", for the purpose of our story was discussing cleaning with the second human, who we will call "Mike".
"Hey Mike", Brian said, "We are running really low on straw in all of the barns except this one. Are we expecting another shipment soon?" Mike replied, "Yeah, I noticed that earlier when I was doing feeds. We are supposed to get more in a month or so and we should be okay as long as the usage stays the same." "I hope you're right", said Brian, as Mike began to walk out. Before he left, Mike added, "Well, if worse comes to worse, we will just have to move straw from this barn to the others".
It was an outside shot, but Melvin thought he may be able to use this information toward a solution for his problem. And maybe, just maybe, Bazzle would be able to help after all. He suddenly felt a little giddy, but tried to keep it from showing. He had appearances to maintain, after all.
It turns out that squirrels have long had an underground presence on the farm. Their tunnels connected all of the barns and even reached into the offices. It would seem that an easy answer to Melvin's problem would have been to utilize this as an underground distribution network, but everyone knows that you can't trust a squirrel with food once it has gone underground. Above ground, they can stay focused, if properly motivated, but once they are in the dark they go primal. No, what Melvin needed was help increasing the rate of straw consumption. As the wheels in his brain whirred and clicked, he began to envision an army of squirrels ferreting away straw from the barns and pooping all over the place in order to make the humans do more cleaning. If he could only make this work, he may be able to figure out the other challenge...with a little luck!
To be continued...
Friday, January 20, 2012
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Illegal (Or at the Very Least Unethical) Use of Lifeboats
It seems like there are so many disasters nowadays that it is easy to overlook some of them. When a cruise ship recently ran aground resulting in a number of deaths and people who are still unaccounted for, I have to admit it seemed like a blip on my radar. The only aspect that really drew my attention was the fact that the captain had been arrested, reportedly for abandoning the ship with passengers still aboard. As a former Navy sailor, I am very aware of the notion that the captain is supposed to go down with the ship, but it had never occurred to me that there could be legal ramifications if they lacked the fortitude and accountability to do so. This got me thinking that, indeed there are particular jobs that do warrant this level of repercussion when those who take on these responsibilities fail to have the courage to fulfill their callings or there oaths.
How sad it is that our government officials are not likewise held to account for their failings to act appropriately while our country is arguably sinking under the weight of decades of mismanagement. To add insult to injury, many are actively stoking the fires of class envy as a distraction or slaving to satiate their corporate overlords. Meanwhile, they are insulated within their financial lifeboats and government indemnity as we face a very uncertain future. Oh, how different the political world may be if our leaders were held to the standards of a cruise boat captain. If they faced the prospect of being locked up for failing in their sacred assignments and always passing the buck to someone else, we may find that the disdain that people feel toward their government may evaporate and we may find some unexpected buoyancy as a nation under true leadership...I know, wishful thinking!
How sad it is that our government officials are not likewise held to account for their failings to act appropriately while our country is arguably sinking under the weight of decades of mismanagement. To add insult to injury, many are actively stoking the fires of class envy as a distraction or slaving to satiate their corporate overlords. Meanwhile, they are insulated within their financial lifeboats and government indemnity as we face a very uncertain future. Oh, how different the political world may be if our leaders were held to the standards of a cruise boat captain. If they faced the prospect of being locked up for failing in their sacred assignments and always passing the buck to someone else, we may find that the disdain that people feel toward their government may evaporate and we may find some unexpected buoyancy as a nation under true leadership...I know, wishful thinking!
Images from the Farm
I am quite overdue in sharing pictures, so I figured I would post of batch of recent favorites.
First off is Ricky. As you can tell, he is quite a noble gentleman with the carefully groomed beard of a prince.
There is only one Molly! Here are a couple of pictures that show off her beautiful face.
If Ricky is a prince in training, Buddy here is content to be a semi-retired duke lording over his pastoral paradise.
Cecil is Ricky's wingman and has the cutest "la mancha" ears (These are naturally like this).
Melvin (a.k.a. The Horned Avenger, a.k.a. the Goatfather) letting his bouffant do the talking.
Oh my Baby Madeline, how quickly she has grown up. Here are a bunch of pictures of her along with her new goat family. She is just too darn cute for words! Many of her pictures are mid-bleat (When I say "Baby", she will call back).
Here we have my first picture of Norman steer. He and his mini-herd have recently started making more public appearances in the Cattle Hill pasture and I was lucky to catch him in a candid moment.
The Horned Avenger: Chapter 3
His first memory after the kidnapping was that of gliding amongst the clouds. It was exhilarating - at least up to the point where he realized that he had never flown before and couldn't make sense of how he was doing it now. In addition, the sky was a lot dustier than he had imagined and the clouds, while fluffy, weren't as soft as he had expected. Like a chalk mural on the sidewalk being washed away by the rain, the dreamy qualities began to evaporate and he was left with just the stark reality.
He determined that he was alive, but he was definitely not soaring anywhere. His hooves were firmly planted on terra firma and his legs felt like he hadn't been of them in days, if not weeks. When exposed to the light of scrutiny, the "clouds" weren't as white as they had first seemed and they seemed to have faces. In some cases he had to look longer than others in order to determine which end was the front and which was the back since these unfortunate creatures seemed to lack the tail that would have made it elementary to determine which end was coming and which was going. Their faces looked surprisingly similar to his, but these were like no goats he had ever met. Out of desperation, he tried to communicate with them, but they ignored him and he couldn't make sense of any of the sounds that they were making. He hated them for stealing him and snorted with a mixture of anger and fear.
Beyond the clouds, there were windowless walls with small cracks through which sunlight entered. These rays of light served to highlight the dust in the air; as if he needed a reminder - he was sneezing constantly. The dry dust - he hoped it was just dust, stuck to the back of his throat. He looked for a way out, but could see no door in the available light.
After days of this uneasy torment, things seemed to be taking a turn for the better. There was a flood of light and he saw several of the two legged creatures that he had noticed when he lived with his mom. He couldn't tell if these were the same ones or not, but he hoped that they were here to bring him back home. Perhaps this had all just been a big mistake. He was a kind goat and would be happy to forgive and forget.
Feeling their rough hands grabbing his horns, his dreams of reunion seemed to be slipping away. A noose was slipped over his head as was cinched tight. It must be the walking clouds' faults! They must have said something mean about him and it made him hate them ever so much more. Days passed, that much he knew, but the events have been masked by his brain's coping mechanisms. The memories would sometimes come unbeckoned in nightmares, but he could never summon them on demand. It was probably for the best.
Suddenly a loud chattering from behind him returned him to the moment. At first he was startled and tried to look tough in case it was a surprise attack, but just as he was starting to puff out his chest he recognized the face of Bazzle. Bazzle was his personal assistant and he had been working to provide continuity for the Goatfather's various enterprises while he as in lockdown. At the moment he seemed very frazzled and Melvin had to remind him that he needed to talk slower since squirrelese was not his native language. As Bazzle started over from the beginning, Melvin felt a rush come over him. He had never received an order this large before and if he could deliver, it would mean taking his business and profile to a whole other level.
To be continued...
He determined that he was alive, but he was definitely not soaring anywhere. His hooves were firmly planted on terra firma and his legs felt like he hadn't been of them in days, if not weeks. When exposed to the light of scrutiny, the "clouds" weren't as white as they had first seemed and they seemed to have faces. In some cases he had to look longer than others in order to determine which end was the front and which was the back since these unfortunate creatures seemed to lack the tail that would have made it elementary to determine which end was coming and which was going. Their faces looked surprisingly similar to his, but these were like no goats he had ever met. Out of desperation, he tried to communicate with them, but they ignored him and he couldn't make sense of any of the sounds that they were making. He hated them for stealing him and snorted with a mixture of anger and fear.
Beyond the clouds, there were windowless walls with small cracks through which sunlight entered. These rays of light served to highlight the dust in the air; as if he needed a reminder - he was sneezing constantly. The dry dust - he hoped it was just dust, stuck to the back of his throat. He looked for a way out, but could see no door in the available light.
After days of this uneasy torment, things seemed to be taking a turn for the better. There was a flood of light and he saw several of the two legged creatures that he had noticed when he lived with his mom. He couldn't tell if these were the same ones or not, but he hoped that they were here to bring him back home. Perhaps this had all just been a big mistake. He was a kind goat and would be happy to forgive and forget.
Feeling their rough hands grabbing his horns, his dreams of reunion seemed to be slipping away. A noose was slipped over his head as was cinched tight. It must be the walking clouds' faults! They must have said something mean about him and it made him hate them ever so much more. Days passed, that much he knew, but the events have been masked by his brain's coping mechanisms. The memories would sometimes come unbeckoned in nightmares, but he could never summon them on demand. It was probably for the best.
Suddenly a loud chattering from behind him returned him to the moment. At first he was startled and tried to look tough in case it was a surprise attack, but just as he was starting to puff out his chest he recognized the face of Bazzle. Bazzle was his personal assistant and he had been working to provide continuity for the Goatfather's various enterprises while he as in lockdown. At the moment he seemed very frazzled and Melvin had to remind him that he needed to talk slower since squirrelese was not his native language. As Bazzle started over from the beginning, Melvin felt a rush come over him. He had never received an order this large before and if he could deliver, it would mean taking his business and profile to a whole other level.
To be continued...
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