Tales of the Animals on a Borrowed Farm: Rachel

Rachel, the Neighbour Girl

The name of the little girl who lived beside the farm was Rachel. She lived in a white cottage with her parents and her older brothers. Rachel had the fresh mind of a farm girl, and it was not very long before she became a close friend to Bear’s family. Every day after school, she would go home, drop her books, change her clothes, and run up to the farm to join Bear’s children.

Rachel loved being on the farm with Bear’s children, and by and by, she came to love the animals very much. She especially loved Brownie, and it seemed like Brownie returned her affection. Rachel had no sister, so she took Brownie as one, and you could often see Rachel’s long golden hair glinting in the sunlight as she and Brownie trotted side by side in the warm afternoon.

Rachel’s parents never worried about her whereabouts when she was with Bear’s family. They knew that she was safe, and most of all, she enjoyed her time with them. During the summer holidays, Rachel sometimes stayed with them all day, only returning home when they left the farm in the evening.

When the time came for Bear to leave the farm, Rachel was very sad. She knew that she would miss the children very much, and more than that, she would miss all the animals. Bear wanted to do something for her. He thought about giving her something to remember them by.

When he remembered how fond Rachel was of Brownie, he knew just what to do. He took Brownie to the girl’s house, and gave Brownie to her as a present.

“You must look after her, Rachel. You must take good care of her,” Bear told her.

“Oh, of course,” she said, hugging the squirming Brownie tightly. “Thank you, sir, thank you.”

Bear smiled a little sadly. He would miss the animals very much. He still had to decide what to do with the rest of them, but at least he was sure that Brownie would have a good home. She would be cared for with love. Naughty as she was, Bear did have a soft spot for her in his heart. Hopefully, Brownie lived happily ever after with her dearest friend, Rachel.

...

I sometimes wonder about Rachel and Brownie. I know that Rachel's probably all grown up, but I don't know if Brownie is still around. I wonder if those two had any adventures, and if so, what they were. I think I would like to have another Brownie sometimes, but when I remember how much trouble goats are, I rethink my opinion.

Last year in April, Father bought eight bottle babies for me. Eight kids, and all of them bucklings (boys). I had only four bottles, and two hands, so I had a very hard and interesting time feeding them. They were always fighting and trying to take the nipples out of each others' mouths. As they grew older, they only got worse.

They were always in the flower garden, they trampled the vegetable patch, they pooped on the deck, they denuded the small evergreen shrubs, and they followed me everywhere. One of them would even take a piece of my dress in his mouth as if to remain by my side and not get lost from me. It was a troublesome time, especially when they grew big. They thought they were still babies, but their hard hooves and sharp horns were dangerous, and they'd often bruise me by playfully butting me or trying to stand up on my back.

I started out with four white ones and four brownish ones. Unfortunately, I lost two of the white ones due to some invisible illness, and then I sold one brown one. He was a very interesting goat with very, very short ears. Below, behold the goat whose "ears froze at birth"! That's a hilarious term farmers use to describe this breed of goats.

To the right is a picture of how these adorable "kids" used to sleep sometimes.

The black goat in the group picture is a doe-ling, a female kid, named Cutie-pie. We bought her separately with her mother because they were both so beautiful. Cutie-pie was one of the cutest goats I've ever seen, and I don't mean in her physical appearance. Her manner of doing things was adorable. She used to walk along the edges of the pens, exactly the way a little girl would walk on the railing of a deck or a sturdy fence as if she were practicing how to balance. Sometimes, we could almost hear her humming little tunes under her breath, the way a little girl would. And every day, I would get into a playful scuffle with her to see who would get to the white chair first.

Sometimes she won, but most of the time, I won. The, she would get back at me by climbing into my lap and nibbling at my face and hair. She lived in our barn for a while, but when we decided to downsize on the goats, we sold her along with her mother to another farmer. I hope she is doing well, wherever she is.

And here ends the Goat Chronicles for today.

Yours,

Ellen Hamilton 💖