Oh, give me a home Where the yaks they do roam and the chickens they cluck in their coop. Where the doggie does dance The cat sleeps on your pants and they all produce far too much poop. Home! Home on the range! Where the mountains loom nearby all day! Where oft it is heard An ill-rhyming word and the puns they flow thickly, Oy Vey.
Daven was up at stupid-o-clock, bribing yaks. They had settled in pretty well on our neighbour's land. ("Hey! A hill! We like hills!" "Please stop playing king of the hill and come home.") Because he is fantastic and patient (as evidenced by how he took Kai from a spaz-machine to a cuddle-monster), he had them home before 0700, and repaired all of our neighbour's fences.
The yaks. You remember the yaks? They have escaped.
They are currently next door, and are non-responsive to coming home.
We are not having a good night.
On the upside, we have the most understanding neighbours ever, who volunteered "Well, it is dark, just leave 'em be for the night and you can try again in the morning." Thank goodness for good neighbours.
Mr Kai is the only non-escaped yak. As an update (since I haven't posted about him in forever), he has weaned himself and is now eating Calf Manna instead of milk, and has discovered cookies. Cookies have made him decide we are not evil demons, and now he will scamper up to us for pets and skritches.
I hope the rest of the yaks are OK. Daven said they looked dehydrated (not surprising with all of the running they've done since they hopped both the 4 strand barbed wire fence and electric fence), and I'm hoping they'll follow the fence down to the big gate we left open for them to come home through. I left a very very bright light on in their paddock for them to follow, if they have the urge.