I picked up Daisy the guard dog this afternoon, and I hope she lives up to the hype. I found her on Craigslist–“free to good home.” She’s three years old and has been a goat guardian her whole life. A lady in LaJunta was downsizing her goat herd and couldn’t afford to feed an extra dog and Daisy was not suited to life as a pet (apparently her family tried). Daisy is quite obviously half Pyrenees, but I’m not so sure about the supposed Anatolian half. She’s too small, for one thing. She’s about the size of a Golden Retriever.

Right now my goats are afraid of Daisy and she feels the same way about them. But tomorrow I’m putting her in the pen with them and I’ll keep an eye out and make sure Cuzco doesn’t try to kill her. It will probably take a couple of weeks for her to get used her new home and her new herd, and I know it’s going to take at least that long for the goats to accept a dog in their midst. I’m not sure Cuzco ever will, but we’re going to try. So far she seems to like the goats even if she’s a bit scared of them. She was nervous the whole way home in the truck until I pulled into the driveway and she smelled my goats. Suddenly she was up on the wheel wells and trying to put her head through the cage. She cowered in the corner of the patio until I let her out to smell the yard. She ran from goat pile to goat pile and up and down their well-trodden path with her tail wagging. She stopped cowering after that and even went for a walk with me. We visited Nibble’s grave and I told Daisy that her job is to make sure no more goats end up in that dirt pile. I hope she takes her new job seriously!

Ah… it was a wonderfully peaceful and quiet night. I slept like a rock and the goats look refreshed this morning too. Yesterday morning they were huddled in a pile, exhausted, because all of them had been on the alert all night like me. I hope Cuzco’s mood improves today. After a brief morning nap, he spent the rest of the day in a towering rage and was charging and pummeling any goat that dared to come anywhere near him. Lack of sleep and loss of his best friend probably both contributed to his temper. He’s usually at least tolerant of the babies, but yesterday they both got smacked hard any time they walked near him, and sometimes even when they didn’t. He was going out of his way to bully everyone, which isn’t his usual style.

I surveyed the pen this morning and I see what happened. Since the power was off, one or two coyotes wriggled under it in a place where the ground was uneven. It (or they) fought with Nibbles down the length of the fence line. Then it got her down and dragged her to the place where it got in, but wasn’t able to drag her under the fence into the brush. I think they gave up after that and left her because they didn’t want to hang around inside a fence. Nibbles lost a lot more blood than I realized last night. It had pooled under the snow in the spot where the coyotes left her, leaving only two small spots on the surface. I feel sick about it.

It’s five hours later and the coyotes are still howling at the bottom of the horse pasture. I’ve had the shotgun loaded and sitting by the door all night, but nothing close enough to shoot at. It’s uncanny how they can be so far away and yet sound so close, and they make the creepiest sound.

I wish I had a dog. We’ve thought about getting one since last year, but I was kind of hoping we could wait until Cuzco is gone. He hates and fears dogs so much after his accident all those years ago that I’ve been concerned that he would leave home and never come back if we got one.

I do worry about the goats, though. Even if I hadn’t forgotten the fence, there would be other nights during the winter when I wouldn’t be able to turn it on because of the snow. Or if the charger had a problem or the battery died, I might have to wait some time to get it repaired. Nothing is foolproof, and I’ve often thought that it would be a good idea to have more than one “security system” in place. I don’t care what Cuzco thinks about it–I’m going to start making some phone calls and trying to track down a good livestock guardian dog as soon as it’s daylight. I won’t sleep properly until I’ve got someone out there patrolling this property at night. The horses have been great at getting rid of the bears, but they totally ignore the coyotes. I’ve tried telling them to be more helpful in this department, but it hasn’t left an impression. I should hope a dog would not be so indifferent.

Poor, brave little sweetheart. I’m so sorry you had to pay so dearly for my mistake. I will never forget your little pink nose and your kind, patient eyes. You were always the brave one–I’ll never forget pulling you off that cliff you climbed down! You weren’t even afraid of Cuzco! I know he’s going to miss you. You were the only goat he liked. You two loved to butt heads together–the closest dignified old Cuzco ever got to playing.

You were such a sweet goat. You were not outwardly affectionate like Lilly–you were always more reserved–but you had a gentle, uncomplaining, and simple nature that made you easy to be around. You were the most patient of our goats, waiting in the back while everyone else got fed first, then coming to get your portion when it was your turn. You never complained about being last. I fondly called you “Sweetness.”

Motherhood mellowed you. You were a good mother. You never worried or fussed over your baby, but you always protected her. I wish you could have had more. I can remember you when I look at Nubbin. She doesn’t look much like you in most ways, but she does have the same striking black and white markings on her belly and the same bustling little waddle. You always looked like you were going somewhere important to take charge of the situation. Phil and I will miss your funny, purposeful march when we take our walks. Forgive me, dear Nibbles.

I made a terrible mistake tonight–a mistake that cost poor, brave Nibbles her life. I cannot sleep and so I write…

Phil and I were heading to bed around 10:30 when we heard coyotes howling near the house. I suddenly realized I had forgotten to turn on the electric fence when I put the goats to bed earlier. Phil went out to switch it on. When he opened the door, the coyotes sounded very close–much closer than usual. I went on the porch and I could see two of them slinking through the horse pasture in the moonlight, not far from the lower edge of the goat pen. Phil shined a light into the pen to check on the goats, but he did not see Nibbles among them. I threw on a bathrobe and slippers and joined him to look for her.

Phil found her lying at the bottom of the hill next to the fence. Brave little goat–she had gone down to protect the others. She had fought with the coyotes through the fence. I’m not quite sure how they killed her. Other than a couple of very minor punctures, she had only one wound on her throat from which she lost only a little blood. I suppose there could have been more internal bleeding than we could see, or perhaps she died of the shock. She was cold when we found her. I’m not sure why the coyotes had left her without eating, but I’m glad they hadn’t started. We took her back to the house and put her in the garage where she couldn’t attract more predators.

I fixed the fence in the moonlight. Then I sat and comforted little Nubbin, more for my own sake than for hers I think, and I reflected on what I had done. I’m horrified that I neglected such an important detail. We are fortunate that we only lost one goat. I know that anyone who raises animals is going to lose them eventually, but Nibbles is the first, and it was untimely. Most of all it hurts that it was my own fault.

My first photo of Nibbles: May 20, 2012

My last photo:  December 6, 2013

Too short, baby. We won’t forget you!

No photo from today’s festivities, but boy was it fun! Phil and I took a jaunt down the road to the neighboring town of Beulah this afternoon for their annual Yule Log festival. Apparently it’s the second oldest in the country, having been celebrated continuously since 1952. The special log is hidden in the woods and when the bugle is sounded, everyone charges off to find it. The first person to find the yule log hollers “HALUEB!” (Beulah spelt backwards) and the victor rides the log as it is dragged to the pavilion where the log is sawn in two. One half is burned in this year’s Yule fire and the other half is saved to help start next year’s fire. The finder is toasted with wassail and everyone sings carols, eats cookies, and drinks wassail around the Yule fire. I’d heard about this event for several years but always after the fact. This year I was determined not to miss out and marked the date ahead of time. I’m so glad I did! This will doubtless become an annual tradition for us.

Of course, no tradition is worth celebrating without goats! Phil and I took Nubbin and Petunia since they are still small and easy to manage and because it’s high time they started getting out by themselves and getting used to crowds and dogs and cars. Turns out they have no problem with any of those things, although one of the dogs was about to wet himself in his excitement over seeing a goat for the first time. His owner never could get him to calm down in the two hours we were there even though Petunia came right up and introduced herself to him. The kids loved the goats and gave them as many cookies as they would eat. It’s a wonder they didn’t both go into a sugar coma.

By far the best part of the day, though, was the hunt for the Yule Log. The moment the bugle sounded, the goats leaped into action and charged ahead, straining at their leashes like bloodhounds on a scent. Phil and I were dragged over hill and dale as they plunged through the snow, heads down, ears pricked, tails wagging. It’s like they knew everyone was looking for something and they were going to be the first to find it! Unfortunately, however, goats do not make very good Yule Log trackers. They took us on a wild goose chase where we found many nice logs, but none of them the right one. However, I don’t think the goats realized that they weren’t the victors. They excitedly joined the happy, cheering throng that accompanied the log as it was dragged in jubilant celebration back to camp. Once there, they were treated to more cookies and attempted to treat themselves to wassail. They were petted, fussed over, and photographed by everyone. We were told we would have to bring them back again next year. You can’t have a proper nordic Yule Log celebration with out goats! The goat is one of the most important traditional symbols of the Scandinavian Christmas. I can’t believe they’ve left Yule Goats out of their celebrations for this long. We shall have to remedy that in future!

Since it’s Christmas time, I think it’s appropriate to remember Cuzco’s first Christmas in Colorado and the first time we put him to work. I think he actually really enjoyed hauling our tree off the mountain. He pulled it about a mile to our house. For the first time in his life, he did not get reprimanded for forging ahead and straining against resistance.

If this cold, snowy weather keeps up, we could actually have a good winter this year! We’re incredibly sick and tired of drought. If we get lucky, I might even have to break out Cuzco’s earmuffs. I noticed frost around the edges yesterday, but Cuzco didn’t seem too concerned about that. He just wanted a cookie. And to be allowed inside by the fire.

It’s a good morning to reminisce about “the good ol’ days.”

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…

Cuzco still had TWO horns.