Yesterday morning John and I took a walk east on Palomino Lane to see how high the water is getting in the ditches and pasture. I was taking photos in front of our place when our neighbor, Frances, came roaring up in her rust and blue 1974 four wheel drive Chevy truck she just bought for $700. She's tickled with its performance on her pasture road, said she didn't get stuck at all. (Yet.) So she stopped to talk as most of the neighbors do, as there are so few of us. Turns out she was on her way to a hay farmer neighbor west of us to pick up some hay from a broken bale for her menagerie of animals she raises for food. How you going to lift the hay in? I got a pitch fork with me. Well, she had just come from another neighbor where they had de-horned three baby goats, two girls and a guy from the same mother. They were in a dog carry case in the cab. We called John out to see them. They smelled like . . . . burned horns, but they were cute little devils.She said it didn't hurt them, they'd forget about it, you don't want a goat with horns. Hmm.