Our big boy has arrived. What a sweet animal. He loves attention and is perfectly willing to share his strong perfume as he gets all gussy upped to impress his new girlfriends. Yes, he's been peeing all over his self with every new supply of fluid his body can produce.
Kind of reminds you of a bull elk in rutt doesn't it? Yeah, neither one smells too good.
We met Karen Butler from Mega-milkers in Wheatland and transferred Touch from her pickup into the back of ours. We could tell it was a difficult goodbye as she kissed him then asked us, "Be sure and tell me that he got to your home safe and sound, will you?", before she turned back towards her pickup.
We, of course, e-mailed photos of him to show he arrived all in one piece, and of our does too so she could see the shiny, healthy coats on them and know he would be well cared for also. Plus, she could see that Chicory, who was once hers, is doing well.
When we arrived, Kirk first stopped by Chicory and Meagan's pen. You know cruising for chicks like we use to do as teenagers. Then when we had Touch's interest peaked, Kirk drove off a ways to drive down into a borrow pit so as to tip the tailgate of the pickup low enough for Touch to jump out safely.
I had no problem getting him to come along with me back to our pens. Yup, he'd seen the girls, determined they were cute, and now he wanted to meet them.
Chicory greeted him through the fence but soon grew bored with the whole greet and meet thing.
Meagan, on the other hand, acted like a typical teeny bopper and kept staring at him glossy eyed. You could read exactly what she was thinking. "Wow, he's cute! I hope he notices me."
Being the three-year-old that he is, all sophisticated and knowing in the ways of women, he also soon lost interest in the opposite sex and instead checked out his new pen, then wanted our attention to insure himself that he'd gone to some nice folks.
He was fine yesterday but today he mistook me for one of THE girls and his bu..., bu..., bu..., bu...s and front pawing of his hoof was met with a light, but firm, tap.
" No, I am not going to be one of YOUR conquests, I'm already spoken for." I let him know as I glance up at my husband. Since I'm on a large number of hormones because of my Addison's disease and I take many of them in a natural order of a women's cycle throughout the month, I happen to know just where I'm at. Yup, our big boy called Touch of Classic has me pegged right on.
You know my brain, yes, it has wondered off on to a path that it probably shouldn't. I am curious though. How effective would it be to parade a group of women, wanting to become pregnant, by a buck goat to see just when the most opportune time is to have a romantic rondevou (how do you spell that word?) with their sweetheart?
Of course only the desperate ones or the ranchy type would be able to stand a buck goat in the fall when they are peeing all over their front legs and smell to high heaven.
Kirk says I have to close and not tell you what else I'm thinking. Yup, I don't suppose anyone wants to be a part of an experiment like this one.