Morning has broken...

I don't often get to participate in the morning ritual that is 'waking the goats'.  As a frequent insomniac I've normally just dropped back into the deepest of deep sleeps just as Ian is getting up.  In the absence of any human company for the next few hours he has been known to take his laptop into the goat shed and start working. 

Anyway, the other morning marked the coming together of two rare events- me getting a good night's sleep, and Ian oversleeping*, such that we were both up and wearing our goat trousers at the same time.    At this point I should note that the idea of 'waking' the goats is totally wrong.  Those boys have been awake with their ears pressed to the inside of the shed door for hours.  Probably since they were shut in the night before.  I know this because on the (many) days that I arrive home from work post goat-bedtime, making even the slightest noise when bringing my bike into the garden results immediately in a questioning 'meehh?' from the shed. Ongoing or louder noises (such as me accidentally dropping my bike), results in a louder and more enthusiastic 'meehh!' while I call apologetically down the garden to explain that it's not morning yet.



Tiberius breakfasting

Anyway, we managed to creep down most of the way to the shed before we were rumbled.  I tried to take a picture of the happy moment of opening to door to allow two tiny goats to tumble out, but it was just a blur of wagging tails.



Sibelius, the smallest goat

*to a time more in line with mere mortals.