Sting or Casanova

Bully’s fine little buckling, Sting (who also answers to Spike), is a chip off the ol’ block. At less than two weeks of age, he began mounting other goats. At first I thought he was simply climbing up to “ride” atop others, as little ones are wont to do, but his actions are clearly of a reproductive nature. Indeed, he will avidly pursue the Numbers about the pasture or the stall, with the determined ardor of his father. Although we’ve already agreed to sell him back to the family who brought Bully, Cocoa, Jennifer, Thumbelina, and Leo into our lives, I’ve begun to wonder if they might not be willing to take George and/or Hugh in his stead. I believe they’re looking for a pet and we could use another handsome, vigorous, practically-proved Nigerian Dwarf stud on the farm. (Technically one is proven by successfully producing offspring, but this little guy has the mechanics down so well that he’s already half-proven himself to me.)

Say what? Is he getting any? Puh-lease! No. Our little Casanova is still shorter than the shortest Number (and the Numbers threesome are known as the farm’s Little Uns). He’ll hotly pursue a Number at a run, leaping up to latch on whenever he’s close enough, only to slide off as she continues running—or to flip over backwards because she’s so much taller than him. When he reaches an age to successfully breed, he’ll be living separately from the Little Uns, from any of the fainters for that matter.

At three weeks of age, Sting still readily slips through fences—flowing freely into and back out of the female alpacas’ stall section. Gregarious, he’ll romp up to and away from anyone—human or animal—on a lark. Unfortunately I’ve attended to others more in this past week, and Sting has switched from willingly cuddly to adamantly struggling to get away from the terrifying human. He’ll scream and carry on, making him difficult to hold effectively. No larger than was Jessica Lynne on the day she was scooped up by a swooping hawk and disappeared, Sting is relegated to the safety of the home pasture while his mother, Jennifer, has taken to browsing the woods with the big fainter girls for hours at a time. When he finds himself alone in the pasture (abandoned by Nigerian Dwarfs but still in the company of horses and/or alpacas), he’ll carry on at great length fueled by a seemingly bottomless supply of energy.

He’s a fine little dude and we’re very glad to have him here on the farm.