Pumpkin the Goat has become a bit of a princess, a diva, a prima donna, and I’m afraid it’s all my fault.
Pumpkin’s Attitude came about this way:
The Public Radio station in Seattle invites listeners to contribute audio clips for a feature the station airs weekday mornings called “Sound of the Day.” Last summer I sent in a piece of sound of Pumpkin, making a noise I call “purring.” The station played it, and apparently listeners LOVED it because the station aired it again, at the end of 2012, as a kind of “Greatest Hit” Sound of the Day.
If you were to hear Pumpkin purring, you’d have no doubt that it is the aural embodiment of contentment, perhaps even pleasure. On a warm summer day, Our Lady of Perpetual Leisure finds herself a sunny spot in the pasture, nestles down in the soft grass, and she purrs -- an embarrassingly sensual purr, I must say.
It felt just a wee bit creepy when I too laid in the pasture grass with my iPhone and recorded Pumpkin’s purring. I felt like I should avert my ears.
Anyway, now that Pumpkin is a Media Darling, she’s become picky about her food. She picks the alfalfa pellets out of her goat chow, leaving behind the bits of grain. She will now only eat expensive orchard grass hay, not lowly timothy. And if the water in her water bucket has been there for longer than a day, she won’t drink it. I hafta fill her bucket with fresh water each and every day.
Sheesh!
Now our rooster, too, seems to be copping an attitude: I noticed the other day that he was preening and strutting more than usual. I was poking around inside the chicken house with my camera, looking for pictures, and I caught the rooster standing in the chicken door, tail feathers all fluffed out, posing.
I suspect it won’t be long before the critters begin demanding that I hire an agent and a public relations firm to represent them.
