Slippery Slope Goats

05/14/2026

Huge thank you to everyone who came out today to help work through the herd! We drew blood on the whole crew, strapped on NoFence virtual GPS collars, and sorted goats into two highly organized management groups: “going grazing” and “staying home plotting chaos.”

We’d also like to formally apologize for the behavior of Velcro, Ron, and Rudy… who apparently believed today’s goal was to test everyone’s cardio, patience, and ability to hold onto a goat. Somehow no one died, only a few fences lost their dignity, and we’re calling that a success.

Seriously though — days like this take a small army, and we’re incredibly grateful for all the help, laughs, and extra sets of hands. We couldn’t do it without you all!

05/12/2026

If you ever wanted to add a little chaos to your life, I highly recommend owning:

* a large herd of goats
* a bear dog
* and a 3½-year-old feral farm child.

This evening I’m sitting in the kitchen on a Zoom meeting with the local select board, trying to professionally convince them to hire us to graze a knotweed problem. I’m feeling prepared. Responsible, even.

Then my phone rings.

It’s Mr. Robert — as Adelaide affectionately calls him — the guy I lease the farm from. And a call from him this late is NEVER good news.

“Great news!” he says.
“ALL of the goats are out.”

Wonderful.

I fling the door open and Bear Dog blasts past me at the speed of light doing *the bark* — you know, the deep demonic bellow that only comes out when there’s either a bear… or the possibility of violence.

Right behind him is the herding dog.
The KEY employee in this entire operation.

Straight through their virtual fence collars.

(Although honestly, at least I knew where they were.)

Herding dog comes back on recall.
Bear dog? A mile in the wrong direction and fully committed to his side quest.

So now the herding dog, the feral toddler, and the exhausted goat farmer pile into the truck while I’m simultaneously phoning a friend to recover Bear Dog and sending live location screenshots like we’re coordinating a hostage negotiation.

We get to the farm and, thankfully, the goats go back in pretty easily.

(I’m good at this. Occasionally.)

Then we notice one black goat still missing.

So I go sprinting toward him when suddenly I hear a noise coming from…

…the liquid manure pit.

Friends.

Never — and I truly mean NEVER — did I think I would spend part of my evening fishing a goat out of a liquid manure lagoon.

But there he was. Just floating around making poor life choices.

Mr. Robert comes to the rescue because he’s tall enough to basically hang himself off the concrete curb above the pit while I stand there questioning every decision that led me to this exact moment.

Anyway, if anyone from the select board is reading this:
I would still very much like that grazing contract. We are clearly highly skilled professionals.

05/02/2026

The doeling fairy strikes again! This momma blessed us with 3 beautiful healthy doe kids this morning and she has enough milk to feed them and then some.

04/24/2026

04/23/2026

Yesterday we kicked off our official kidding season- coming in strong with 4 doe kids!

03/18/2026

Things you never thought you'd say as a farm mom Part 1: "honey that thermometer isn't for people, it's for goat butts"

05/01/2025

She's lucky she's pretty.

04/28/2025

04/28/2025

Knotweed grazing Summer 2024