Countdown to Halloween - It's He-ere!

It's finally here! The witching hour! Hey, Ella. Do you suppose there are any Peanuts in there???

THE Election

Please join myself, Bung Ari Jan Gab, renowned Caninaturalist, and Huffle Mawson, Explorer Cat, as we pose questions to candidates, Turbo, the Sibe, and Dyson the Vacuum, in this year's most important Presidential debate, Saturday, November 1st, 2008, HERE. We thank you.

No one really approves of this message.

NEWS FLASH!!!

Hey, ho! Peanut here! You might remember that I won the award for Cutest Kid last year at Herron Hill Dairy, where I was born. I got my picture on the cover of the calendar, which according to some isn't 'all that and a bag of Peanuts', since the cover gets turned over immediately and is never viewed by anyone ever again. Nonetheless, I was very proud. Now, it seems, my title is being challenged by Smidgen, the supposed cutest doeling ever born on the farm. Please, please, please, in this year of overdone elections, take the time to go HERE and vote for me!

My name is Peanut and I approve this message...and so does Marigold, who says to say 'Oy'.

Countdown to Halloween - The Scary, Scary Dream

Halloween time would not be complete without a few scary dreams, and I am here to tell you that last night was no exception! I had one of the SCARIEST dreams I could ever have imagined. In fact, it was one of the scariest dreams anyone could imagine. I woke up in a cold sweat (which is extremely hard to do when you are covered with hair and it is only 37 degrees outside), and my heart was pumping at a rate equal to a steaming locomotive flying downhill and carrying a full load of Peanuts! Oy.

By now you are probably wondering what there could possibly be that would elicit such a response in someone as obviously brave as myself. Allow me to explain. You may remember, some time ago I posted a picture of my much-beloved, ever-so-manly Gunner. In case you have forgotten, (and so that I may gaze upon his perfection once again) below is the Gun-Bun.


I dreamed of my Gunny-Honey, but naturally that wasn't the problem. The problem came later...much later... Gunny and I strolled through pastures in the warm October sun, gazing into each other's eyes and each reveling in the other's company.

Soon, the day turned cold. The Gun was no longer there, having succumbed to the charms of another, and I was left quite alone with what you see next. It was hideous. It was beyond hideous. It was surreal. It was little Marigun and Gugold.

"Those with the greatest awareness have the greatest nightmares." - Mahatma Gandhi

This makes me pretty darned great. Ooookay. I'll eat a Peanut to that!!!

(Our kindest thanks to our good friend, Wendy in Oregon, for dreamographic assistance)

Countdown to Halloween - One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish

According to Tsimshian legend (an indigenous tribe of the Pacific Northwest coast), Salmon were originally Salmon People. What is it with these Pacific Northwest legends anyway? I mean, Stick People and Salmon People? What's next, Peanut People? (Ohhhhhh! I sure hope so!) Anyhow, the legend goes that the Salmon People were living in five villages. The five species of Salmon represented the five villages - the Iyai (Spring Salmon), the Mesaw (Sockeye) the Werh (Coho), the Stemawn (Pink), and the Qanees (Dog Salmon). In the spring, they changed into their fishy forms and started their journey, each group at a different time.

You see, Salmon were a major food source for Pacific Northwest peoples, much like Peanuts for goats. As such, there are really quite a few legends amongst the tribes featuring Salmon in starring roles. One legend has it that the Salmon People lived in beautiful cities below the ocean and chose to come back every year in the form of fish to feed the people on land. Again, much like the humble Peanut, which spends most of its life below the earth's surface, only to emerge (maybe on Halloween night like the Great Pumpkin) in hopes of nourishing thousands of adorable, but starving, goats. That's pretty darned noble , if you ask me.

But I digress yet again. (Who, me?) Anyway, every year around mid-October, the Coho Salmon make their way up the Sol Duc river to the place they were hatched. Actually it is a pretty magnificent site watching fish risk tail and fin in order to make it back upstream against horrendous odds. Just the heights these guys tackle to get where they are going, not to mention going against the tremendous power of an authoritarian river's constant bombardment, is a feat of Olympian proportions. I can tell you that no goat would even think twice about such an endeavor (well, unless upstream there happened to be the most ginormous stockpile of
Peanuts ever in the history of the world.) Even Michael Phelps wouldn't go there.

At any rate, below is video taken by the goatfather when he and the goatmother went to watch this yearly miracle in action.

.

Okay, it isn't very spooky, but sometimes in life you just have to stand back in awe of Mother Nature whenever she chooses to touch your life. As for the Salmon, well, "Success is not measured by what you accomplish, but by the opposition you have encountered, and the courage with which you have maintained the struggle against overwhelming odds." - Orison Swett Marden
Mazal tov!, Salmon. Mazal tov!!!

Countdown to Halloween - the Chupacabra

Oy. El Chupacabra. What the hay is that, anyway? Well, you see, this word is used to describe a repulsive creature that sucks the blood of goats. WHAT?!!!!!

First of all, we will be having NO sucking of goat blood around here! Period. End of story.

Now, that being said, allow me to explain a little about this creature. You see, tales of this creature emerged in Puerto Rico in 1994, where something was killing goats by draining them of their life forces. Some reports say it flies and some say it walks upright. Some say it is grayish and some say it is green. Who knows for sure, but since that time, reports of killings by the legendary Chupacabra have appeared all over the world. There are even reports of Chupacabral slayings of sheep and, get this, dogs. Ah, ha! Just who around here is it whose name is 'Cabra'? Ah, yes. So if ole' Chupacabra decides to come calling here, we goats have absolutely nothing to fear. After all, I am sure it would be far more interested in seeking out it's sorta-kinda' namesake. Works for me. Still, I suppose, just in case, it might be a good idea to keep a little snack on hand. Something like the product pictured below. ... just in case.

Nonetheless, some of us might still be just a little worried.
Look up. Be watchful. Look up into the skies. Oh, "By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes." - William Shakespeare, Macbeth.


Spooky, huh?

Countdown to Halloween - The Pukwudgie

In keeping with Halloween, there is something quite supernatural and odd going on at our place. Witness the photo below. Indeed this is but one example of the eerie phenomenon. You see, in a normal household (which no one here ever considered even a remote possibility) a dog might go to the door to indicate a need to 'go out'. That is in a normal household. However, in this household, the downy dirt-devil exhibits an aberrant behavior in this regard. You see, Cabra goes to a blank wall and begins to whine or bark.

No one could figure out this strange behavior, and it wasn't just one wall, but any blank wall. No, no one could figure it out until I, superior intellectual that I am, discovered the existence of the Pukwudgie.

You see, the Pukwudgie is a spirit of the Wampanoag Nation of Massachusetts and Southern New England. It is between two and three feet tall, looking and acting much like a troll, with large ears and gray, washed-out skin that sometimes 'glows'. They can appear and disappear at will, can transform into other animals, and possess magical, poison arrows that can kill or create fire. They are known to lure victims to cliffs and push them off, or use balls of light to entice victims into the woods to kidnap them. (Oooo! Just like those Stick People, except those wimpy Stick People just whistle.)

So, by now I am sure you are quite afraid, and quite convinced that I am out of my ever-Peanut-loving mind. After all, these Pukwudgie polter-people live in New England and this is Washington, for goats' sake. Oh, ye of little faith!!! Have you never heard of a vacation? Don't you think even a Pukwudgie gets tired of the same old scenery and decides to go on a walk-about every now and then? My theory is that the afore-mentioned visitants go all invisible and plaster themselves to the walls. When they sense a need for an impending No. 1, they begin to taunt. If a No. 2 is in the offing, those magical, poison arrows come out. Resistance would be foolhardy, to say the least.

Now you might question why it is, then, that the Mighty Quinn is not affected by their menacing motivational endeavors. I have been able to discern that this is due to the susceptibility of the downy dirt-devil to influences by Stick People. You see, I have recognized that a sort of 'reciprocity' exists among Native American mythical creatures - much like the Teamster's Union. Jimmy Hoffa was probably really a Pukwudgie and is now residing in our walls. Hay!, it's possible.


At any rate, as you can see, it can be a hair-raising actuality, no matter what the cause. Whatever. It works for Cabra and it works for us. After all, "Take time to deliberate; but when the time for action arrives, stop thinking and go ..." - Andrew Jackson