There are some things you just do not photograph.

SO...Tinkerbelle is finding her way into the garden with Jack. That has become that status quo for now. I check on the herd a few times a day in the course of everything else I do. I walk out into the forest to see how the latest Tree House Trail (my name) or Hoe Chi Man Trail (Eric's name coming from the breaking of a hoe as he used his chi-vital energy- man energy to build it)  has progressed. Lots of poison oak on this path. That will be fun come summer. I have a tiny patch of it on my wrist even now. It's cold in the forest and I have not dressed with enough layers. I walk out in the meadow to get warm.  Standing in the middle of the sunshine there is silence, so different from the world where everyone is plugged in or driving. The goats are in their favorite sunlit spot on a small knoll outside the chicken coop. They come running over when they see me walking around in the dried mounds of grass, winding my way towards them through paths the deer have made. In an otherwise frozen day the sunlight in the meadow feels good. Everyone is here except Tinkerbelle and Jack. I love scratching their faces, the soft thick winter fur around their necks. Goats are lovely.

When I check on the goats later Flora is in with Tinkerbelle and Jack. Hmmm. This is promising. Last year she did not get pregnant when she went to stay with Mr. Sparky. Didn't happen in a two month stay. This is looking good. Surprising, but understandable, when I put the girls back in their barn for the night Captain Jack runs wildly around the garden crying. He'd actually settled down once Tinkerbelle had joined him. But here he is all a-twitter once again. Even alfalfa does not lure him quickly to the coop. Enlightenment begins to dawn in my brain. Those pheromones are crazy strong drivers of behavior. I go after him, calling his name, calling in goat language, and then I get close enough to him to take him by the collar and lead him towards the coop. he does run willingly once I get him going in that direction. A brief resistance and call out before he jumps into the coop and then he settles in for a nosh on alfalfa. Phew.

This morning I put Flora in with the Captain and Tinkerbelle. Right? Commotion at 8:30 am brought me out to the garden. Duke is running the fence line. Keebo is sitting and howling. The chickens are running after Jack who is running after Flora who is in and out of the lilacs as Jack paws at her, crying loudly. OK. Here is the show.

I call Duke and he sits at my side. This reduces the dog component of frenzy. Still, we watch chickens and goats in this mating dance. Flora finally comes to a place where she is stuck against the fence in a corner. I won't say that she is wiling, no, not that. She is caught and perhaps surrendered. Of course it is a funny human thing to project onto animals so I can't say anything definitive about their dance. I note the time and date on the calender so five months from now I'll be on top of paying attention.

Everyone settles down, returning to the nibbling of leaves, pecking at dirt, finding sunshine to soak up.