When you live on a great big ole giant spread, you got to have some livestock. That's anything with hooves. Name comes from the market economy. See, in the oldern days, there was no such things as securities, stocks, bonds, or options. Nope. Back then, you put your corn and wheat proceeds into beefers, porkers, muttoners, and milkers. Then, you could "stock" up the icebox with the proceeds. In other words, you invested in your "stock" by taking your feed and putting into the hoofed ones. That "live" "stock" kept you fit as a fiddle throughout the year. After yukin it up about live stock for a couple of hundred years, we now call the hoofed ones "livestock" on purpose.

  Here are the anchors of the Outcrop Acres livestock gene pool. Blanch and Magic (left to right). Blanch was the cheap, single, supposedly young goat we bought for $40 a couple of years ago. From October to January, she got pretty huge - we figured to get her through the winter.

In the end of January, we went out to check on her on a very cold night. She was being warmed by her new addition - a little puppy goat. We named her Magic. She's the brown one.

  Here is the luxurious goat home. No expenses spare, yet none to spare either. Their house is in the bottom half of the A-Frame. The top half was reserved for the other livestock, the hooved chickens. Unfortunately, they were eaten by a fox.

The goat home looks out onto the excavation for the new building, where the tractor and other great stuff will go. The building will also provide power so we don't have to run electric fences from the shed. In fact, once the building is there, the efence goes down.

  Magic as she looked most of her first summer here at the 'Acres. She and Blanche spend many hours locked in the fence, usually after spying some mouth watering ruffage on the other side. After a few minutes, a loud bbbbbbbbbbbbb aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaa ooooooooooooooooooo hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh bbbbbbbbbbbbbb aaaaaa comes from the back. This means she's ready to get out of the fence. We march down and wedge her out from the tiny little square of wire that she got into - like a fishhook barb. This last summer, she must have learned, because she was only in the fence twice. Maybe her horns are too big.

  Two goat children hoping they can get out and join the photographer. This is May 2002. They are loosing their winter fat and hair. They still have their horns and dawdles. They also have the e-fence fooling them into thinking they have to stay in.

  Here's the new goathouse. This luxurious single level is a one-room, one-door model. Note the richly countoured copper roof. The astute observer will also note the horizontal vent around the top perimeter (but just of two sides). It looks like its there on purpose, but the boards were too small. And the best thing? . . . I didn't spend a dime - all materials were found around the house, including excess boards from the Board Fence. Moving on Up

Pick up the Horn