Story Time

It was 1990, one of my girls was in college and the other was going, I was selling part of my herd. I had a saanen named sugar that dropped me twin sisters on April fools day, I was not really that happy, they were crossed with a nubian, and both had the saanen ears. One was horned and one not. I had lost or lent out my disbudder, so the horns would stay. The girls named the babies, Blui and Pinky, after the fake sugar packages. Summer hadn't even got here when the couple with kids showed up to buy goats for their girls, After my usual long speil about raising goats, I sold them the kids.

Next summer, they came back, Blui and Pinky were sick, and would I take them back.? so I did. Both of them turned out to be pretty good milkers, Pinky being the boss because of the horns, but Blui always getting out, and leading the others out.

They weren't sick, they were wormy, Blui bounced right back, and Pinky had to be treated again, That kind of set the pace for years. Blui would not get sick, Pinky would darn near die every year. They were bred to many different bucks thru the years, Pinky always having brown boys, Blui having one brown boy, one white girl. I had always wanted a white Nubian doe, so I started breed Blui to Nubians, and let Pinky do her own choosing. By 1997, I think they forgot they were sisters, cause Blui would get out and the others wouldn't follow her, Which would prove to be almost fatal to her.

I had a large Chow watch dog, on a 1 in. log chain, cause he could bring down a 300 lb hog by himself. I had gone to town, and when I got back Samson was lose, Blui was laying under the porch all bloody.

Panic, tie up the dog, grab the Betadine, the blood stopper, the towels, needles and thread. Blui was tore up pretty bad, but very pregnant and alive, I was able to stitch her udder and her vulva, and some of the larger bites, but Blui could not get up. I found nothing seriously wrong, she just was not getting up. I dragged her up under my front porch, which was like a car port, and put her on a blanket and figured she was in shock and would just take some time. I gave all the appropriate meds to get her well, and Blui would not walk.

By this time, my oldest was teaching school and only had to go a little out of her way to stop by my house. She helped me set up some rimless tires, and wrap a harnes around Blui and put up a chain hoist over her. Each day, I would go out and hoist her up, and prop her on the tires, go cut her some tree limbs, feed her grain and hay, and she healed like nothing ever happened, but she would not walk. Would not even try to stand. Each night, I would let her down.

In three weeks she was healed, still pregnant, and loving the attention. Every once in a while I would bring a couple of the other goats around her for companionship, and see if it would entice her to walk. Nope.

Two months later, I drove up into the car port and Blue was standing there with her head down. I jumped out of the car and and there was a newborn baby , snow white, and I said, "Blui, what have you done?" and that baby goat came running to me. This is highly unusual, because the mother usually tells the baby to stay hid. The only thing I could figure out was that I had handled her so much, speaking softly and trying to help her, that the baby was used to my voice, it really didn't want to leave me at night. Blui went back to the pasture as if she had never spent a single day not walking.

The baby was my white doe, and we became the best of friends. This doeling would walk right thru the fence to get to me, and her mother never lost her talent of getting out. I named her Candy and was so proud. I came home one day and all the goats were out. Honking the car horn, and getting a feed sack brought them back quickly, and I again fixed a fence. But Candy had not returned.

I called my daughter and she stopped and we searched everywhere that we had known for years that goats liked to go, Blui was no help, and we had given up and headed back to the house, but just as I was passing it, I remember the old well. We didn't know if the well was any good, just that it was there and we kept it covered with some bent tin. Looking over there, I could see where the county mowers had hit the tin, bent it, and it was partially off. Sure enough my Candy had taken one last bouncy jump to her death.

I kept Blui and Pinky, they kept having babies, no more white ones, and I kept milking, but my heart wasn't in it.

In 2001 I had a 3 year old granddaughter that was the light of my life, and she had to help me milk, little dickens could milk, but not Pinky, Pinky would have nothing to do with the child and one day, Pinky smacked that baby in the forhead with her horns for no reason, I was so upset, I sold her,

Blui stayed. I started to notice that every time Blui led the herd out, something would be wrong in the pasture. A dog, no water, a mean goat, Blui would take them all out.

I bought 10 acres and my daughter and Jesi moved a trailer on it, and Jesi learned about goats from Blui, When my DD remarried and added 3 more children. Blui trained them. All the time training me as to a low spot in the fence or a new place they could get out.

In 2003 , Cole was born, and Blui trained him. At 17, she is still dropping little white bucks, and each year I hope to get another Candy. In 2006, I was not going to breed her, due to her age, but she chose differently , and has got in with a Boer buck. Now, I am quite certain that my next Candy will have a red head. Blui don't move as fast, or go as far, and doesn't hold her wieght as well, but she still breaks in all the new goats, and kid.s