Trippet to a small breeds farm/owl sanctuary for half term. I took LB, Tom and his mate.

The highlight was going into an enclosure of pygmy goats for some serious goat mingling.  A small inner room, before the gate to the enclosure, had signs warning that these goats were particularly mischievous and very clever. No food was to be taken in – a shelf was provided in this small space for feed buckets to be left – and if a goat escaped from the enclosure, a sharp shove from behind should get it back in.

Well, it probably doesn’t need saying that once Tom and his mate had gone through the gate, four goats shot out before LB moved.  We were no match for a pygmy or ten. They jumped straight up to the food shelf, knocked the food buckets over and started munching.

LB and I stood there pretty uselessly, I have to say. Well LB was totally useless. I got the food buckets back and made a few half hearted efforts to push them towards the gate but they were all over the place. Some seriously lively goatlets.

“There’s a load more waiting by the gate on this side, Mum,” Tom warned, from the enclosure.

“Crap. What are we going to do?”, I wondered, wearing the farm cone of shame. My new bezzy goat mates, nudged our legs. Just waiting for us to be even more incompetent and set them completely free.

Eventually, the goats on the other side wandered off and I managed to push LB into the enclosure with two escapees, who had had enough of nearly freedom.  The other two sat it out for a bit. Studiously resisting any attempts to shove them from behind. Particularly this little black one who had taken a real shine to us. In the end though, the pair gave it up and went back in.

“Take that, you cheeky little pygmy goats,” I said. Swatting at their backsides on the way through the gate.

After that it was all about the owls really.  And that is more visual.

Eerie. And very still.