Christmas Eve, 2014

How did I ever get myself talked into adopting two goats.  It's a nightmare. They're so demanding, screaming for food, or to be untangled, or just for attention every minute of their waking hours.  Billy is the noisy one: sounding sometimes like a horse and sometimes like a rooster.  It's blood-curdling and, until I became used to it, I used to run to see whether he was having his throat cut.  Ted is the quieter one but makes the most extraordinary sounds.  You'd swear he was saying No or Ni.

When we collected them, we were given their 'house' as well, an A-frame of colorbond sheeting on a wooden frame and open at both ends.  Their habit was to go in the front way, and out the back, getting tangled on the way.  I decided it would be  a good idea to close off the back so I found an off-cut of corrugated Perspex and some large rocks to make a wall.  Billy was the first to object.  He stood in the shelter bellowing his indignation.  Ted then arrived and started butting the half-finished wall and trying to climb over it.  

I persevered but within an hour it was demolished and Ted was stomping up and down on the ruins.  Unbelievable!

The next project is to build an enclosure for them.  We have a 'hill' on the property which they love:  a pile of earth and rocks with a couple of small trees and blackberries.  The plan is to build a fence around it so they can be locked up at night, off their chains.  So, $190 worth of dog wire, 15 star pickets and hours of labour, the day before Christmas.  We must be mad.