The goats are not supposed to meet me at my car when I get home from work! The River brothers, once so chubby they wobbled, are thin enough now, after a winter of weedy hay and rationed feed, that they can slip between the gate and the post. I was warned that goats are escape artists, so I wasn't surprised that they took advantage of our poorly spaced gate posts. Of course, they followed me right back inside the fence, so I'm not sure they have the proper motivation to truly try for freedom. On their second escape attempt, I tricked Dark River onto the milk stand and trimmed his hooves. He screamed like I was cutting his feet off the whole time, which worried Light River so much, he squeezed himself back inside the fence!
Peaches had her first visit to a buck for a not very romantic breeding attempt. I can't say that I blame her for rejecting the timid advances of Mr. Valentine. Not that short, hairy, beefy, and smelly isn't attractive, in it's way, but I too found the foaming lips and googly-eyed expression a turn off. Peaches, are we sure we want babies that might look like this guy?
Although, he does have a very cool beard...
I thought for sure Peaches was showing signs that she was ready to visit the buck, but she wouldn't have anything to do with any of the four candidates that she was introduced too. They even made romantic goat gestures, like peeing on their own faces, just to get her attention. She was mostly interested in eating the high quality hay that was available, and made everyone laugh when she would raise her ears and eyebrows like an angry bat, and chase the little man goats away. The small miniature goat boys seemed willing to try, despite Peaches tall, full-sized goat stature, but my goat owning friend was sure Peaches wasn't receptive. She thinks it will probably be this fall before she comes into a "standing" heat, and will allow the buck to mount.
By the time poor Peaches rode in the back of the truck for forty minutes to get there, was exposed to numerous strange dogs, was submitted to the indignity of being held in place by strangers while a series of strange man-goats sniffed at her, was petted and examined and exclaimed over by the team of young people that manage the mini-goat farm and aren't used to seeing full sized goats, and then rode all the way home, she was stressed out. She didn't even want to eat her dinner, and sulked in her stall until the next day. We're hoping we don't have to do that again until we know for sure it's going to work. I brought home a rag that was rubbed on one of the smelly bucks, with the hope that when she's really ready, and I give her a sniff of the buck rag, she will have some sort of reaction that will let me know she's in to it. We'll see. Don't expect any goat milk from me for a while.