Moulton's Almosta Farm

Moulton's Almosta Farm Chicken math and goat math got us good, folks. Stay tuned to see if we survive.

But we’re putting all this barnyard energy to good use: come Spring 2027, we’re expecting baby goats and our own line of small-batch goat milk soaps and lotions.

08/21/2026

Humidity finally released us from its sweaty grip for 24 hours, and the goats have declared today a national holiday. Outside operations have officially resumed.

08/21/2026

With a single round of legendary scritches, Bob somehow managed to win over both Jolene and Betty Boop. The man is unstoppable. He has won over the dogs the same way. Anybody else have an animal that will rub on you looking for scrutches?

08/20/2026

Jebby & Bhuji: Sitting like absolute royalty, perfectly poised, radiating zen-monk levels of patience while staring directly into your soul to gently telepathize, "We believe in your ability to open that can, parent."

08/20/2026

I was inside, smugly checking "feed the dogs" off my evening to-do list, when a synchronized chorus of scream-bleats shattered the peace.

I peeked outside to find a ruthless furry syndicate lined up pressed against the chain-link fence, staring directly into my soul. Apparently, my 30-second delay in serving the caprine buffet was an unforgivable offense.

The Suspects at the Fence:

The Lookouts: Hooves pressed high against the wire, eyes wide with the dramatic panic of creatures who haven't eaten in a full forty-five minutes.

The Screamers: Heads tossed back, belting out high-pitched demands that sounded eerily like tiny men trapped inside goat suits.

The Instigator: Silently chewing on a fence post, plotting an full-scale breach if the grain didn't arrive in five seconds flat.

I didn't realize I had hired livestock; turns out I'm just an underpaid, heavily judged cafeteria worker running on a strict union schedule.

While we technically share ownership of the orchard, my husband Bob does 100% of the actual labor. He painstakingly tend...
08/20/2026

While we technically share ownership of the orchard, my husband Bob does 100% of the actual labor. He painstakingly tends to a collection of apple trees, a few peaches, some pears, and a lone plum tree.

Then gravity does its job, the fruit hits the ground, and the goat and chicken mob charges in to clean up the windfall. To Bob, it’s a harvest. To the animals, it’s a free, all-you-can-eat buffet where etiquette goes to die.

08/19/2026

Welcome back to the Evening Hunger Games, brought to you live from Moulton’s "Almosta" Farm—where the farm is real, but the manners are purely theoretical.

The Pre-Game Fort Siege
Jolene and Angus are running a classic "wait and pray" defense inside the fort, staring at the ceiling as if expecting manna to rain down from the heavens. Meanwhile, Betty Boop executes her signature play: the Outside Burner. She does three high-speed laps around the perimeter before pulling off a death-defying tactical dive into the fort the split second the lid lifts. 10/10 for dramatic flair.

The Main Event: Violence & Viciousness
In an utterly unprovoked show of dominance, Clementine and Mabel open the second quarter by aggressively headbutting Luna and Ruby. No tactical advantage, no dispute over territory—just pure, unfiltered "because you exist" energy.

The Bowl Shuffle
Clementine and Mabel step up to the plate for round two. Luna and Ruby attempt a stealthy counter-offense, trying to pirate rogue nibbles directly out of the lead team’s bowls. It’s a bold move, folks, but the defense holds strong. Finally, Luna and Ruby get their own official rations, bringing us to peak Feeding Frenzy™ status.

Post-Game Refueling
As the chaos reaches a fever pitch, the referee steps in to fill the water troughs and run a quick spot-check on the baking soda and minerals. Another successful broadcast from Almosta Farm, where the livestock is wild, the goats are bullies, and dinner is always a full-contact sport.

08/19/2026

Meet JJ, a chaotic cocktail of Beagle, Whippet, and a traveling salesman father who was almost certainly a Jack Russell Terrier with zero regard for personal boundaries.

The Anatomy of JJ

Aesthetics: Irresistibly cute, featuring ears that could generate enough lift to give Dumbo a run for his money.

Mental State: On the razor’s edge. Her default setting is "unclear existential dread."

Preferred Climate: Sahel Desert in August.

Her Core Hobbies

Human Retraining: JJ has successfully conditioned her household to serve as full-time blanket attendants. Weather is irrelevant. It could be a crisp 95°F with 99% humidity, and she will still march over—swaddled like a cursed Victorian ghost—to stand in front of you and bark until you fix her setup.

High-Stakes Gastronomy: A true connoisseur of fine dining, with a specific preference for human fingers.

The Boundary Policy
JJ enforces a strict zero-tolerance policy. Immediate physical retaliation (read: a swift nip to the hand) will occur if you attempt to:

Clean her ears

Trim her nails (even muzzeled at the vet she acts like cookie monster going after a cookie)

Exist in her general airspace

Breathe with unnecessary enthusiasm in her direction

08/19/2026

People keep asking me if our goats are "friendly." Honestly? That depends entirely on your personal threshold for boundary violations.

The Goat Friendliness Spectrum

Aggressively Cute: The babies. They want love 100% of the time, zero hesitation, pure joy.

The "Drunk Guy at the Bar": They corner you, stare at you like you’re a lukewarm hot dog at 2 AM, and invade your personal bubble with zero self-awareness.

The Moody Teenager: Complete radio silence. Touch them today and you'll get a side-eye that could melt steel.

The Velcro Snuggler: They park so aggressively close to you that you lose track of where your body ends and goat fur begins.

Just like people, goats have distinct personalities. Some days they want to climb inside your jacket; other days they act like you’re a door-to-door salesman. You just gotta read the room.

08/19/2026

It’s high time I talk about the dog crew! Let’s start with Spencer—a gentleman who answers to many distinguished titles, including Dorkfish, Creep-a-saurus Rex, and Pencie Pencie Poo Poo.

Like the rest of our rescue squad, Spencer has his own unique set of quirks and talents. His main party trick? Master-level safecracking—or more specifically, opening doors.

Now, he occasionally uses his powers for "good" by opening doors for Elmer, but don't let the heroism fool you. Spencer is strictly motivated by self-interest. Nine times out of ten, he’s not letting Elmer into a room; he’s staging a tactical eviction to get Elmer out of his personal bubble.

It’s not kindness; it’s high-stakes canine real estate management.

08/19/2026

I headed outside the second I got home for some therapeutic "goat time," only to be instantly mobbed like a rockstar by Betty Boop, Jolene, and Angus. Right on cue, the newest member of the "Pet Me Right Now or Face the Consequences" VIP club, Luna, crashed the party.

Having four demanding diva goats and only two human hands is a tragic mathematical failure. The moment I dared to stop petting Angus to handle the others, he immediately pivoted to revenge mode—attempting to swallow my phone whole and gnaw off my shirt.

Nothing quite says "welcome home" like getting aggressively cornered for affection by a herd of oversized, four-legged lawnmowers.

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Potsdam, NY
13676

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