Oh sad days.
I’ve finally committed to reducing our goat population. I’m such a sentimental fool, I cry over an old goat! I put an ad in Craigs List and a gentleman came and took 2 of the males: Peanut and our new baby, Bolt. Peanut wasn’t too hard to say goodbye too as he was/is kind of a pain. Bolt was hard. He is so freakin’ cute and he and his twin sister were inseparable. But therein lies the problem. I see them as brother and sister. And while they’re young, they act it. As they get older however, they see each other as fair game for mating. Then it gets crazy and you worry about finding your toothless goats sitting on the porch playing the theme from “Deliverance”.
We now have 5 goats. 3 more are committed to folks. The 2 girls will go to our friends in Thomasville so that’s not so bad. The 1 male will go to a guy down the road who has worse goat luck than us. He had maybe 30-50 small milk goats. He also had hordes of puppies that grew up into dogs with nothing better to do then chase down and hunt the goats when they escaped the fenceline — which is inevitable with that many goats — they’re tricky. They got all but 3! Ugh. So he’s starting over. I hope the goats fare better this go-round. I don’t approve of what went down, but I can certainly empathize.
Once we say goodbye to those 3, that will leave just Big Mama and Jim, the goat Adam & Eve of our farmlette. It will probably happen this weekend. And I will cry. But it’s the right thing to do on so many levels. And then if we choose, we can add new blood.
Oh and Big Mama’s already pregnant. It’s a vicious cycle.