There’s no way to sugar-coat it, the Homestead is currently a very noisy place.
This has got nothing to do with the human inhabitants; we continue to move through the days with no noticeable increase in volume. Â Oh, except for the days we forget to shut the deck doors before undertaking the track and field challenge on X Box (the hurdles can be hard on the floorboards), and even then our lovely neighbours swear they heard nothing.
Both Dave and Mel (who has bounced back with a vengeance from her dental surgery) take their moonlit property surveillance very seriously and Dave, in particular, has a very piercing, high pitched war cry. That coupled with the chickens and ducks, who are taking turns being broody in the most vocal manner, and the goat’s hungry bellows (even when they’re in the act of eating) make for a sound-scape to rival Old McDonald’s.
The Goat Herd and Milk Maid feel the burden of this increase in decibels very keenly; who would relish the possibility of upsetting the world’s best neighbours? Not us! So the moment Leia, our main offender in the goat paddock, throws back her head and draws breath we feel ourselves tensing. Down the path we jog-trot at the double to shush her. Generally she just wants to know where we are, or maybe her babies are not that keen to do what she thinks they should, or Geraldine has decided to goose-guard the hay feeder again. Either way, she’s not going to say no to a handful of something tasty as hush money and we hastily dole it out in the interest of neighbourly harmony and silence being golden. Of course, this simply greases the axle of the vicious cycle of goat yell, Homesteader stress increase, goat gets fed – and it’s never long before the siren sounds again.
“I don’t have a problem with it,” was Mrs Ezekiel Tigerlily’s response to our shamefaced apologies.
“Haven’t heard a thing,” Jude Nextdoor assured us.
“We love the sound of the farm,” laughed our local royal couple, and
“I’ll take her singing over boom-boom music any day,” was Margaret Backfence’s viewpoint.
Which made The Goat Herd’s words, served up with croissants with blue cheese and ham, worth taking to heart.Â
Union Homestead 
Most amusing. Glad your neighbours aren’t upset by the noise coming form your place.
We’re incredibly lucky with the people we’ve ended up living amongst.
I always say that the animals have me trained pretty well – particularly the cat, who usually wants to start her day around 4 am. Sounds like your neighbours are pretty golden – arent’ you lucky.
Love the quote – and it’s true. It all in how you look at something, isn’t it? I have not tested the soundtrack – it’s early and the house is sleeping 🙂
Glad you chose to delay the soundtrack airing…:)
I’m with Mozart on the sound track question.
hee hee, she picked that you wouldn’t be a fan, even though she included The Ukulele Orch of GB having a go at it with you in mind 🙂
The link didn’t take me to the Ukulele Orchestra but directly to the original version. The Uke Orch version is delightful.
Glad you liked it 🙂
Interesting soundtrack! I had no idea there were so many versions of Anarchy in the UK. You have wonderful neighbours – lucky you! We have a couple of neighbours with chickens and their cockerels have crowing competitions during most of the summer starting before dawn every day. After a while we become deaf to them as I’m sure your neighbours will become deaf to your animals.
It is amazing how many versions exist of a song that is essentially pretty basic and badly put together.
Experience has taught us that Leia always gets a bit noisy at this time of year. Hopefully she’ll sort herself out soon 🙂
🙂
And you have goats too?!? Loving it!
Though you are indeed lucky with your neighbours…I prefer the goats over this soundtrack on any time of the day! xo Johanna ps the neighbours are of course lucky with you too…
You’re not the first to opt for ANYTHING rather than The Goat Herd’s soundtrack 🙂 x
Hi, Your stories of your daily life are very entertaining. Good food, animals and good company are subjects dear to my heart. My sister, Kathryn, is the pavlova goddess in our family – the crisp crust and marshmellowy interior are perfection. For her daughter, the pavlovas are pale pink.