Moving animals may be among the most stressful things I ever do in my life. We brought all the goats over yesterday—the four biggest, oldest does in the back of DH’s truck, and the four youngest and smallest in the back of the Subaru. The plan was that I would be behind DH and keep an eye on the goats in the back of the truck and signal him by blowing my horn if he needed to stop for any reason; what I didn’t take into account with this plan was A) DH ‘s terrible hearing, B) The freaked out Great Pyrenees that would be in the cab with DH, and C) The fact that DH doesn’t really follow plans. Ever. So when Tallulah, my most senior doe, managed to get her hind leg over the side of the truck, I started laying on the horn and flashing my lights. Two miles later, I was saying some words that maybe the girls shouldn’t've been hearing—though, I have to say, I was combining them in some really creative ways. We were all three in tears when DH finally pulled over. After our brief encounter, he watched me very closely in the rearview mirror for the rest of the ride, and everyone was fine. It was, however, awful and nerve-wracking watching those very unhappy goats for the forty minute ride. The ones in the car were fine, though Pippi did squat and pee right before we got here, so the car smells like a typical Moonmeadow Farm vehicle now. Oh well.

We had, a few days ago, prepared a stall in the barn—cleaned it up, filled in the big holes (burrows?) in the floor by stuffing them with the two bags of cement that were left in there (now why am I so sore?), and bedded it with a bale of straw—and the goats seemed right at home in there immediately. We had to lock Fionn in there with them, though, so he wouldn’t take off and roam the neighborhood, and he was not at all impressed with that. It was nice to hear his familiar deep bark during the night, though.

Hey! This is my first post from our new place!

Yesterday we had a moving party, and moved all the big stuff from the old house—refrigerator, wood cookstove, gas stove, couch, etc—and piled it all up haphazardly in the new house. I got up at four thirty this morning and hooked up the computer in a corner behind an armoire in the soon-to-be dining room; it’s sad how out of touch I feel after being without the computer for two days!

After moving, we all retired here and cooked out and ate and made merry. My sister T* and her husband K* and my nephew A* were here providing muscle, moral support and organizational skills, along with my dad and stepmom. Also A* and P* and the elfin one, and many other friends who were kind enough (or suckers enough) to come out and look at the seamy underside of Moonmeadow Farm.

The animals (except for cats) are all still back at the old farm. It’s total anarchy there—the goats are running wild and ransacking the yard. The integrity (ha!) of the fences was seriously compromised when we removed a few key fenceposts—yesterday while packing up we had to run animals out of the house a few times. Fionn is beside himself not knowing what’s going on, and how do you explain it to a dog? Poor guy. I think the girls and I are going to try to bring a handful of goats over today in the back of the Subaru. I’ve tried to keep this car uncontaminated by animals, but whatcha gonna do? Our friend S* was going to move all the goats yesterday in her covered truck, but she ended up being out of town. I also need to arrange for a trailer for moving the horses and cows, but first I need fences! I cleaned out and bedded a stall in the barn for the goats, where we can lock them up with a bale of hay, and the girls can take them for long browsing walks.

OK, I’m rambling—I’m a little out of it; I’d better go get some more caffeine.

Our friends are the best!