Among the goats, Blueberry is the designated speaker-of-the-house. As long as she knows that I’m within earshot, her throaty bleat lets me know whether they want food, freedom, back in the barn, or company. I get a running commentary on the goatie state of affairs. Jubilee, spokesperson-in-training, always chimes in with her higher-pitched raspy trills.
I should have suspected that something was up when I was out working today and heard neither of them. Something was up; rather, somebodies were up—in a Russian olive tree!
|L to R: Blueberry, Jubilee, Jack|