These are some of the folks you would meet at This Little Farm. Click on the picture and read a short description
To Mary Faye,
I didn’t even know enough to ask the lady how old you were that day I brought you home in my van all those years ago.
So, I don't know how old you were when you patiently let me learn how to milk a goat.
I don't know how old you were when you became Herd Queen and whipped my other goats into a proper herd of milking ladies.
I don't know how old you were, when you nearly bled to death after trying to protect the others from the big dog that was attacking your herd.
I don't know how old you when you stole that baby from a new mother because you didn't have one of your own that year.
I don't know how old you were when you helped me understand that getting older doesn’t mean you’re not still beautiful.
I don’t know how old you were when you abdicated your crown to a younger Herd Queen.
I don't know how old you were when you lost your teeth or had to start taking pain meds everyday so your arthritis didn't hurt so much.
I don't know how old you were when you couldn't get up anymore and I knew it was time.
I may not know how old you were, but I know there will never be another goat like you and I loved you very much.
Thank you, old friend.