Flying Fleece

Man am I filthy. I mean truly, utterly, disgustingly grimy. 

Here's what I've done today to get this way: cleaned out two barns, all the way, because two of my goats have terrible diarrhea. I pitched the hay, scraped the floors, rinsed the floors, and sprayed everything with bleach water. Then I dosed the sick goats with kaopectate, a procedure that involved a certain amount of wrestling. Wrestling goats with explosive diarrhea. One of the sick goats is Iris, who is now two days overdue to give birth. I really hope she holds off another few days until this tummy thing resolves. Birth is gross enough without adding pints of liquid poo into the mix.

Then the guy came to shear the alpacas. I didn't have time to shower and change, I just jumped right in to catching and holding down the terrified alpacas while they were sheared. They bellowed and sprayed half digested grass from their mouths and kicked up dirt and sand and poo. The wind was blowing pretty hard. I have little fleece bits in my hair, eyes, clothes. And other stuff, no doubt.

It was pretty fun, though (alpaca wrassling, not goat wrestling.). Finally, we could pet them to our heart's content, while they were in four point restraint. The fleeces are gorgeous, heavy and velvety and beautiful. Now Rowan has got three months to process and sell enough fleece to convince me that the alpacas are worth their keep. Today's work cost us $115.  

But the pictures alone are worth that. Now that I've published them, I'm going to take a shower. A long shower.

                                                 Miguel resists arrest

                                                             Not so feisty now, are you?

                                            The Girls get to pet Benji

           

Who the hell are you?

                                                        Under the fluff