Yes, it’s my turn to say what I think to those who read Alys’s dispatches. There are so many animals around here that it took some time before I could weigh in.

I wouldn’t have gotten a turn at all if there were, for example, more animals around here. Alys’s animal wish list includes a pig (which she’d house in the empty compost station), geese, and more goats.

She’ll probably get her wish as far as goats goes. She’s planning on breeding Swampy, who has turned out to be a high end producer. Alys thinks that this is because she likes the songs Alys sings her. Both Sassy and I back off when she begins banging out the tunes because Alys is what Tyra calls tone deaf.

Tyra knows everything and isn’t afraid to voice her opinion. Every morning when the three of us goats accompany Alys down to the barn, Tyra passes on some useful information that she’s acquired from the birds, mainly the ravens. Well, this gives Swampy, Sassy, and me something to talk about later in the day.

Ranger

I’m getting older. Notice I put an er on the end of the word old. I am losing muscle mass and have one sore leg. However, and Alys agrees, I still have a kind and loving expression.

I remember when Alys and our neighbor Kirby came out to where Rover and I were then living. Matt Shaw, the owner of the goat farm, strode out into the enclosure, and handed us to Alys. Matt took a moment to explain to the two distraught mothers that we were going to good homes.

Sad to say, the fate of a good many young male goats is that they are killed for their meat. It’s a barbaric practice, but no surprise, this is the way the male psyche operates.

I’ve led a pretty good life here – I mean, I have no complaints. Alys has always made sure that I’ve had companions. There was Rover, then Peaches, then Stormy. Now there’s Swampy and Sassy. We three get along very well, although Sassy is Sassy. She was over-socialized before she got here, so she tends to be pushy. I used to be pushy, but not so much anymore. Alys has finally figured out that because push comes to shove, to push less harder.

Today, as Pete was trimming hooves, Alys speculated that I might not be around all winter. I thought that it was very rude, her talking this way in front of me. Sometimes she forgets that her animals all understand what she’s saying. This isn’t true of all animals and their owners, but it is true here. This is because Alys spends so much time with us.

I’m sticking around. I’m not like Tinni, who made a conscious decision to check out before winter. He told us several times before he died that he’d had enough. “Enough of what?” I asked. “Snow, cold, wind,” he said, adding that last year he felt it in his bones.

I think he made a mistake. Alys and Pete would of course have continued to take good care of him. We all miss him – it just wasn’t his time to go.

I’m told that I’ve exceeded the daily word count. Guess I’ll finish up tomorrow.

292. 10/24/22: Ranger, continued