Momma & Baby Mule

Good Grief, Gobs of Goats!

"Hey, take MY picture!" this goat seemed to say to me as I was out taking photos of the mules, chickens, dogs and misc. other creatures out at the horse lots west of the Pampa city limits.

I swear, it kept bleating as if talking to me, but I think it was telling this other goat that it really shouldn't be outside the gate.



On down the road there was an entire pen full of goats and a couple of black sheep. I'm familiar with black sheep so I didn't take any photos. (seriously, they were shy and ran into the little barn when I got close. If you'll click the photo below you'll get a larger view and can see one of them, directly in the middle of all the other animals)



I love to take photos of goat's faces; they're so interesting and expressive.



I liked the coloration of this one, but when I'd poke my camera through the fence wire to get an unobstructed shot, he'd turn his head or another goat would try to eat my camera.



I finally lured him into a frontal view with the offer of some tasty weeds.

Well, HE thought they were tasty; I'm more into spinach and endive.

Duke & Lil' Trigger

I was driving around the horse lot west of the Pampa city limits and was looking to my left when I heard the unmistakable sound of a bloodhound from the right of my vehicle. Sure 'nuff, there he was on the other side of the road.

He LOOKS to me to be at least a good bit of bloodhound and he sounded like one; I don't recall my dad ever owning one, but he had hunting dogs, both bird and 'coon.

I wasn't for sure if he'd let me pet him or if he'd be protective of his territory and want to hang a fang in me.

I got close and he "bayed" for me, that deep, hoarse mixture of a bark and a bellow.



He was wagging his tail, but....



He almost licked me to death, he was so glad to have someone to pay attention to him. I'll have to remember to bring him a chew bone next time I'm there. It makes me sad, because I know dogs get lonely too. Been there, done that, doggonnit.

I don't blame him for being lonely, because his only company in the pen was this anti-social billy goat who bleated his disapproval of the dog fraternizing with strangers. Being downwind of this billy was no treat for the dog, I'm sure, because the brown stain on his chin whiskers is where he pees on them.



At least the ol' dog had SOME company; in the pen next to him was a Shetland Pony.



The poor thing was skittish and I found out why; he was blind in one eye and could sense me on that side of him. (on the left, his right eye if you'll click the following pic for a larger view)

As long as he could see me, he stayed calm.

I'm not for sure if the horse was extra-small or the bloodhound was extra-large.

Duke & Lil' Trigger, that's what I named 'em.

Dunno where the rest of the Clampetts were; probably out at the cement pond.

Fightin' Chickens

Wished I had been able to get in there and take some close-ups of these beautiful "game cocks". I wouldn't "besmirch" the reputation of the man who owns these chickens, but I suspect they're really "fighting chickens". Be that as it may, and no matter what one thinks of that practice (banned in 49 of the 50 states, I believe--I will come back and verify that) they are still gorgeous creatures.

Since I couldn't get too close to them, I had to use some telephoto. I caught this one in mid-crow.



That's not hard to do - catch one in mid-crow - because there were at least two dozen or more roosters in the lot and they were ALL crowing. Not five seconds went by without a crow, it must really be loud out there when the sun comes up and all that chicken testosterone gets to flowing.

The birds I wanted to photograph, the ones closest to the fence, were scared of me. Some roosters aren't scared of anything; I used to work for a man who raised (and fought) them and he had a particularly mean hen that used to attack me every chance she got when I helped him feed and water. She wasn't sneaky and ambushed like some of the meaner roosters would do, but would see me and come running down the row, kamikazee-style. The pecks were annoying, but a chicken can really "gaffe" and it hurts. My boss thought that hilarious and even moreso when he and his wife invited me over for a Sunday lunch and we had her with dumplings. The chicken, not the wife.

She was a little stringy, but I would've expected that anyway. The chicken, not the wife.

I've seen all sorts of "houses" and these are pretty good ones, cut out of some sort of barrel and plenty of room for the rooster to roost on the top.



The first rooster didn't have an enclosure; perhaps he was tethered up outside of one for the off-chance that a hen might come within the rope's distance.

From all the loose chickens running around, and esp. the little ones, I'd say that's probably the plan.