Don’t Kiss the Goats on the Lips

Today Jack became a wether.  That’s code word for castrated male.  He wasn’t exactly castrated.  They now use a “crimping” method and I’ll let you digest that visual for a moment.  Needless to say, he screamed, I cried and we were both traumatized by the whole situation.  One of us is recovering nicely.  The other will be having nightmares about this for weeks.  I’ll let you decide who is who.

Overall, our little flock of goats and sheep are doing very well.  For newbies, I am very proud of us.  They have all the fresh grass and hay they could desire, always have access to fresh water and all get lots of lovin’.  The vet who came out today thought they all looked good and were all in very good health.

Our neighbor who lives across the field had stopped by on her daily walk  the other day and we introduced her to our little flock.  She works for another vet in town and was very happy to impart some wisdom.

“First,” she said, “Don’t give any castrated males grain.  They can get very sick from it. Second, don’t kiss the goats on the lips.” She nodded as if that was the entire meaning of life and we should now feel fulfilled in some way.

Why she felt she needed to tell us not to kiss goats on the lips is beyond me.  Do we look like people who would kiss our goats on the lips, I wondered?  We love our goats and we give them lots of hugs and pet them often, but kissing them on the lips had not really crossed my mind.

Both of us just nodded, of course.  Neither one of us dared ask “why” we shouldn’t kiss the goats on the lips.  We assumed there was a valid reason and since it wasn’t something we intended to do, we just went along with her.

Our neighbor congratulated us on our lovely flock then went along back on her walk up the road humming happily to herself.  We stared down at the goats wondering if “cuties” was perhaps a real thing you could get from kissing goats (instead of elementary school aged girls).

The farm continues to come along and everyone is doing well.  The chickens are getting bigger by the day.  We still have one chicken we haven’t been able to identify.  A friend thinks she may be a meat/layer hybrid.  If she is, we aren’t sure what we’ll do with her.  Of course, “she” could be a “he” in which case “he” may become “stew.”

Of course in the words of our vet…”How can you eat your animals when you cry over castrating them?”  Well, in the first case, I get a delicious meal, while in the second case I get a very sad baby goat.  Still she has a point.  Only time will tell if we follow through with our plans.  We intend do, though just like with the castration, we will likely cry when the time comes.

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