After an Ober finished her bit of grain top-dressed with her herbal pregnancy mix, I unlocked her from the milking stand and turned to open the door. Too bad I forgot to move the herbal mix bag. She had the edge of it in her mouth in about a split-second. Trying to get it back from her was like trying to get drugs from a crack addict. I won – barely. She gave me mournful bleats as I left with the tattered and ripped bag in hand. She doesn’t see why she has to share with the others.
Seasons of Change Farm 