The goats have been on a hay strike. They now prefer the kind'a crappy hay over what we recently purchased. As in the eight large square bales (at a cost of $65 per bale, mind you) of a good, green brome hay.
There were days when they would just look at it. Each one of them lined up at the fence, staring at the heap of newly forked hay, then back at me, then back at the hay, obviously wishing it were something else. But guess what? There IS nothing else. They even went so far as to pick through the old wasted hay I put in the blue barrels for bedding. Technically I could probably get another crummy bale of questionable hay, but when it's more than half stems and twigs, I just can't justify spending the money. That crummy bale suddenly costs not $45, but $90 when you figure I have to double the quantity of it I feed to them.
So there have been days when I don't put out any fresh hay. And they bawl and cry and moan every time I go past the hay pile. Eventually it dissapears. Then, and only then, will I fork some more hay into their hay bin.
They all run over to the new hay, stick their fat heads in and immediately pull back out. Nettie looks up at me as if to say, "So, when you going to feed us?" Annette just sighs. Ishtar would flip me the bird if she had fingers to do so. After several moments of human and goats staring at each other, they begrudgingly take a mouthful of hay and munch away. When they have finished chewing their first bite, they plunge their heads deep into the bin, trying to find something else. As if there were something better at the bottom. This, of course, causes much of the hay to fall out of the bin. And heaven forbid they would have to eat hay that has touched the ground. Oh, the horror!
Before leaving, I give them the old "If you don't eat your dinner, you're going to be eating the same thing for breakfast" speech.
And Ishtar mumbles a goat cuss word my way.
"Did you say something young lady???"
No, Mom ***bitch is trying to starve us***
Nothing. Munch, munch, munch.