‘Tis the season. Goat mating season, that is, and we have two does who are not happy that there’s no buck on the premises.
Willow starting cycling first, and we knew it because she got testy. She started butting all the other goats and acting out.
Westie — sweet, docile, quiet Westie — was next.
The goat who almost never speaks is sweet as ever, but she’s letting us know that something’s up because she’s yelling all day long at the top of her lungs, “Maah maah maah! Get me a maaaahn!”
According to Michael, she was up in the goat yard (rather than warmly tucked in with the rest of the goats) until late last night, crying her heart out until Michael finally turned the lights out in the house.
Today, she was the same until the rain became so strong she was forced inside. But every time we open the porch door, her alert ears hear us and she calls out.
So, far, Wellesley is quiet, but I’m worried. She’s a force. Her personality is strong. As the herd leader, she’s vocal and pushy with the other goats already. I can only imagine what she’s like in heat.
Ever since the boys were born, we’ve been talking about what’s next. How do we keep the milk flowing and continue the breeding program without any Golden Guernsey bucks in the area? This is a real problem for us as we try to establish a Guernsey herd. Do we buy a buck of our own, which entails more housing and fencing, and living with a buck? Do we breed one of the does to another registered dairy breed knowing that the offspring will have to be sold off as unregisterable?
This year, the answer may be the latter — so we’ll start researching for a suitable, local buck.
Meanwhile, the girls bellow. And the rain comes down. And the meteors shoot across the sky.
Grongar 