NASGAR- The Chase for the Trough
Sunny, 88/57, Pasture seeding is done for the year. I'm trying to wait to get some fertilizer on it this fall until we get some rain. Still Haven't got any. The barn is coming along. Now I've moved on to siding the backside. When thats through, I'll start on the grainary floor.
These termites are funny little bugs. You can pull one beam that will have the complete insides gone out of it, and the beam its attached to will have no termite marks whatsoever.
Lap One’s looking good. As the weight goes down, I’m noticing the truck is getting a little loose in the corners though. I look in the rear view mirror, and I’m leaving goats behind like they’re standing still.
Lap two shows there are still a few stragglers, but they’re slowly falling off the pace. Billy looks anxious as I pass the start. I almost think he’s motioning me to stop in the barn area, for a pit stop. Can’t stop now, I’ve almost left them all in the dust.
Lap three…. Only one left!! If I can just hold off…… Ohh what the heck…. I’ll just stop and throw her off.
This was a little event that took place last weekend when a series of events has me thinking about forming the National Association for Stock Goat Auto Racing (NASGAR). The inaugural event was three laps. I think as the goats get braver, it could go on longer.
It started Saturday morning when I went out to feed the chickens. Now, my chickens are in a Brad Bachelor designed coop on wheels so I can move them around the farm pastures onto fresh grass. Right now, the chickens are a long way from the barn, so I usually get a bucket of feed and take it to them.
The goats of course think of this as their feed and decide to follow. They might not only get fed, but its also fun to throw the farm’s owner around in a demented game of caprine ping pong.
Well, I put the bucket on the pickup bed tool box and take off. The only problem is that I have a bunch of posts in the back of the truck I’m using to finish shoring up the ol barn, so the tailgates down. Well, halfway up the hill to the chicken pasture the bucket slides off the tool box and spills into the bed.
When I get to the coop, I notice the goats about 100 yards behind, and I try to get the feed picked up before they get there….. I failed. Well, I took what was left of the chicken feed to the chickens when I hear the sound off hoofs on metal. I turn around and a bunch of goats are in the truck bed eating what they can, and the rest have their hoofs on the side of the bed propped up looking at the others. My truck paint was going away fast!!
So I go running back to them yelling at them trying to scare them away, the only thing I hear is a “Hmmmpphhh” from Billy, who obviously is getting too big for his britches. None of the others moved either. I tried throwing them out, but when I’d get one out another would take its place. There was only one thing to do, so I hopped in the cab and started the truck.
That got the propped up ones away, but the 12 in the truck bed just continued to eat (for future reference, a 1998 Ford F150 with toolbox will hold 12 goats in the bed, including two on the tool box). Thinking quickly, I decided to start driving, and when one looked like one was going to jump off, I jammed on the brakes and tried to stop so they wouldn’t get hurt.
My upper pasture has two alleys connected by cross alleys, so I decided to make laps around that. For the record, Billy was the first to go (that weenie!!), after that others followed, by the first lap, I had lost eight. I’m sure it was quite a sight. Goats popping off the truck like popcorn popping out of a popper with the cover left off. Sam the goat dog was following the truck and barking probably wondering why these goats were all trying to attack him from the air (he cowers more now). The second lap I lost three more of the die hard feed eaters and noticed only “Trouble” was left.
You know, its funny how after you’ve been with these things for awhile the names change. The first few my wife named are “Braveheart”, or “Bearded Lady”, or “Hop-along”. Now the few I do name are called “trouble”, or “pain”, or “frickinfrackin”. Seems I only name the troublemakers anymore.
Well, on Lap three, I noticed the others had given up following and all stood in one area, kinda like a grandstand area. “Trouble” was not leaving, she’s a smaller goat and seemed to enjoy having all this food to herself. Finally I decided to end her fun by stopping the truck and throwing her out, running back to the truck, then high-tailing it to the nearest farm gate.
The race was over. Once again, I was victorious. The only kiss I got in the winners circle was from on exhausted female goat dog, but I felt good anyway.
Well Folks that was my Saturday morning last week. Wish I was lying, but even my imagination can’t make this stuff up. The rest of the day was finishing the barn framework on the never ending barn project and going home to tell my farm girl wife about my day.
She just rolls her eyes and laughs……. Seems our farm is a lot less tame than hers used to be……..
These termites are funny little bugs. You can pull one beam that will have the complete insides gone out of it, and the beam its attached to will have no termite marks whatsoever.
Lap One’s looking good. As the weight goes down, I’m noticing the truck is getting a little loose in the corners though. I look in the rear view mirror, and I’m leaving goats behind like they’re standing still.
Lap two shows there are still a few stragglers, but they’re slowly falling off the pace. Billy looks anxious as I pass the start. I almost think he’s motioning me to stop in the barn area, for a pit stop. Can’t stop now, I’ve almost left them all in the dust.
Lap three…. Only one left!! If I can just hold off…… Ohh what the heck…. I’ll just stop and throw her off.
This was a little event that took place last weekend when a series of events has me thinking about forming the National Association for Stock Goat Auto Racing (NASGAR). The inaugural event was three laps. I think as the goats get braver, it could go on longer.
It started Saturday morning when I went out to feed the chickens. Now, my chickens are in a Brad Bachelor designed coop on wheels so I can move them around the farm pastures onto fresh grass. Right now, the chickens are a long way from the barn, so I usually get a bucket of feed and take it to them.
The goats of course think of this as their feed and decide to follow. They might not only get fed, but its also fun to throw the farm’s owner around in a demented game of caprine ping pong.
Well, I put the bucket on the pickup bed tool box and take off. The only problem is that I have a bunch of posts in the back of the truck I’m using to finish shoring up the ol barn, so the tailgates down. Well, halfway up the hill to the chicken pasture the bucket slides off the tool box and spills into the bed.
When I get to the coop, I notice the goats about 100 yards behind, and I try to get the feed picked up before they get there….. I failed. Well, I took what was left of the chicken feed to the chickens when I hear the sound off hoofs on metal. I turn around and a bunch of goats are in the truck bed eating what they can, and the rest have their hoofs on the side of the bed propped up looking at the others. My truck paint was going away fast!!
So I go running back to them yelling at them trying to scare them away, the only thing I hear is a “Hmmmpphhh” from Billy, who obviously is getting too big for his britches. None of the others moved either. I tried throwing them out, but when I’d get one out another would take its place. There was only one thing to do, so I hopped in the cab and started the truck.
That got the propped up ones away, but the 12 in the truck bed just continued to eat (for future reference, a 1998 Ford F150 with toolbox will hold 12 goats in the bed, including two on the tool box). Thinking quickly, I decided to start driving, and when one looked like one was going to jump off, I jammed on the brakes and tried to stop so they wouldn’t get hurt.
My upper pasture has two alleys connected by cross alleys, so I decided to make laps around that. For the record, Billy was the first to go (that weenie!!), after that others followed, by the first lap, I had lost eight. I’m sure it was quite a sight. Goats popping off the truck like popcorn popping out of a popper with the cover left off. Sam the goat dog was following the truck and barking probably wondering why these goats were all trying to attack him from the air (he cowers more now). The second lap I lost three more of the die hard feed eaters and noticed only “Trouble” was left.
You know, its funny how after you’ve been with these things for awhile the names change. The first few my wife named are “Braveheart”, or “Bearded Lady”, or “Hop-along”. Now the few I do name are called “trouble”, or “pain”, or “frickinfrackin”. Seems I only name the troublemakers anymore.
Well, on Lap three, I noticed the others had given up following and all stood in one area, kinda like a grandstand area. “Trouble” was not leaving, she’s a smaller goat and seemed to enjoy having all this food to herself. Finally I decided to end her fun by stopping the truck and throwing her out, running back to the truck, then high-tailing it to the nearest farm gate.
The race was over. Once again, I was victorious. The only kiss I got in the winners circle was from on exhausted female goat dog, but I felt good anyway.
Well Folks that was my Saturday morning last week. Wish I was lying, but even my imagination can’t make this stuff up. The rest of the day was finishing the barn framework on the never ending barn project and going home to tell my farm girl wife about my day.
She just rolls her eyes and laughs……. Seems our farm is a lot less tame than hers used to be……..
posted by Brad Bachelor at 4:34 AM
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