CLOSED AND MOVED

Hello all! This blog has been closed and moved. You can now find all the ramblings and writings of the Goat Whisperer at the link below. Thanks!

TEXAS GOAT WHISPERER BLOG

http://www.knsfarm.com/blog

The Goat Who Started It All

Many years ago, I got it in my head that I wanted to return to the farm life. I brought home a bunch of chicks and waterfowl and raised them. I was happy with my pen full of birds, but I wanted something to go with it.

Always a Craigslist crawler, I came across an ad for Miniature goats. I went back to it a couple times, did some refresh research on dairy goats (I had meat goats as a kid) and then told my husband, "I want some dairy goats." He looked at me like I was crazy - I can't stand the smell or taste of milk, after all.

Regardless, it wasn't long before I was standing in a field looking at some goats. I pointed out one of the bigger horned does and a small cute wether to go with her, and into the car they were crammed. Hope and Uno, black and white Nigerian Dwarf goats.

They were not overly pleased with their new accommodations. We had to chase down the doe to milk her - Steven held her by the horns the first couple of times while I sat in the dirt and figured out how to work her teats, squirting the milk into a pickle jar.

Before long I could catch her with a pail of feed and I would strap her to the fence. I spent a great deal of time out there with my chickens and the goats, and soon enough, Hope and Uno began to show signs of warming up to us.

They taught me many things, first and foremost - gates to the goat pen need chains and locks. And don't leave anything they can climb on near the fence! But as they became familiar with their new home I took them out on leashes to eat the pasture, and soon enough, they were allowed out on their own during the day.

Hope also taught me the healing powers of goats when she was attacked by a dog. Despite her leg being quite wounded, I diligently cared for it several times a day and she healed - a year later you would have never known she had been hurt. We became fast friends.

She brought into the world my first kids, two sweet bucklings and a stillborn kid. Another lesson on the challenges of breeding goats. Her second set of twins were born in our home due to the freezing cold. Her third set were beautiful and I still have one daughter to this day. Her forth kids were just as great. I had high hopes for this year's kids, but I am grateful to still have her daughter and a granddaughter.

She had personality in spades - dogs had nothing on her. She could drink from a soda can, and would come give you kisses and pester you to scratch her. She bossed the rest of the goats and was the undisputed herd queen at all times. Never leave the door open - in she would come to inspect the household. Dogs feared her - she even succeeded in pinning a small dog against a wall and goring it, possibly saving other goats injury and death from the stray.

She was the epitome of what I strive for in my breeding - a larger Miniature goat, deep of body and stout. Worm resistant and hardy (she was sick only once in the years she was with us), with strong feet that only needed minimal trimming. An easy doe to breed and an easy kidder. A caring mother and a dependable milker.

Her legacy will live on, in her offspring and in me. A freak accident took her from us when I needed her most, and I will never forget her and what she started. She taught me to whisper.

I love you Hope, you were my heart goat, and you are now standing guard over those who left us before you.

Remembering: Ellie

Oh Ellie. You were with us the shortest time of all, but you made the biggest impact in my life. The guilt I feel over you is almost overwhelming at times. I blame myself for not telling John where you were crated with Pixie. Could you have been saved? I'll never know, and I try very hard not to go there, as it's a dangerous path for anyone to travel down.

You were not an expected addition to the family. I was content with five dogs, two of them puppies, getting ready to move. Who in their right mind would add another puppy?

I stumbled across an ad on Craiglist for a blind puppy. I clicked off, browsing as usual, but soon came back to the post, frowning slightly. There was something...something that drew me in. It has never been in my nature to ignore something presented before me, especially when it comes with a strong feeling.

I spoke with several friends and showed them the ad, and then sent an email just to see.

Long story short, the next day I met with your breeder in the parking lot of a grocery store and brought you home. As I suspected, you were the result of a dapple x dapple Dachshund breeding, a very bad thing for anyone to do. You had one partial eye and no eye at all on the other side. In no time at all, I quickly deduced that you were stone deaf.

The vet agreed with me and we discovered you had a slightly deformed jaw with an underbite and spine, some partial use of your deformed eye, and some health concerns to keep an eye out for. I seriously thought about putting you down.

You showed me just how wrong those thoughts were.

Within days, you were running around the house. I had planned on putting a bell on you, but it was never needed - you did not get lost. In fact, you soon discovered the two spots I was most likely to be in, and when you desired to sit in my lap, you would bark at me with your funny little voice.

You quickly grew to become friends with the other dogs, Junebug as your protector and Pixie as your playmate. And you were not just loved by us, but the Internet community loved you as well. I took videos of you for them, and pictures.

Steven was smitten with you, even after not being entirely on board with the idea of a special needs puppy. You wrapped us all around your paw and we adored you. I bonded with you almost immediately, and your loss tears my heart to pieces.

You inspired people all over the world, and every day I will miss your impudent little attitude. I will miss your demanding bark to be picked up. I will miss you snuggled close at night and your joyous gallop after one of the other pups. I will miss your care-free attitude. So what if you ran into something while playing? It was just part of the fun.

There are videos of you on Youtube, and someday when my heart aches less, I will revisit them and be reminded of your determination in the face of adversity.

You were less than four months old.

Goodbye, Ellie.

Remembering: Pixie

Sweet darling little Pixie. You were part of my foster pup program, but I knew as soon as I saw you, that you would be joining my family. A super cute mixture of Chihuahua and Poodle, no one would have ever known you weren't pure Chihuahua until they saw you do a "poodle" jump straight into the air.

You had the strangest voice I'd ever heard, squeaking and mewling almost like a cat. I even have a video or two of you "singing" and people agree, you were a strange sounding little dog! When you and Ellie (who also had a strange voice) got to playing and making noise, it always made me laugh.

You were shy, the most shy pup I've ever handled. You did not like being picked up and carried about, and we tried to be as respectful of that as possible, allowing you to come to us and snuggle on your own terms.

You were super smart: the first to learn to climb onto the couch where I usually sat during evening game/movie time. You loved to bounce in excitement when I talked to you, and you, Rosy, and Ellie were one heck of a team.

You were the only one who did not prefer to sleep in the bed, instead you liked to dig holes in whatever bed I had given you guys. I can't count the number of times I awoke to a "snowstorm" of stuffing that you had pulled out gleefully.

You were with us just a short time, but your joyous little life will be remembered for all time.

You were less than six months old.

Goodbye, Pixie.

Remembering: Rosy

When our dear Lady passed away from her cancer, I knew I wanted to add another family member (or two!). It ended up being three, but two of you were planned. You, Rosy, were first. The offspring of a neighbor and good friend's two working Dachshunds.

When I went to meet the puppies, there were two females. I immedietely picked out the black and tan female, but she cried and wriggled the entire time I held her. Watching you, I noticed you were the largest pup, and while the other puppies cried or slept, you grabbed an ear and growled! I was hooked.

You came home and were startled by your new world, but you took charge of it right away. You grew quickly, surpassing both parents in size in almost no time, a real beast of a Dachshund! Your red coat was beautiful and your spirit vivacious and tenacious.

You gave me quite a lot of trouble - if you weren't chewing on something, you were tearing through the house raising hell. But you always made me laugh with your determination. The day you were able to scramble onto the bed yourself was a day to celebrate!

You were bossy and impetious, but when Pixie and then Ellie joined us, you welcomed them as playmates, friends, and sisters. You led them into all sorts of mischief and and frolic, and the word "NO!" was heard many times in the house!

But for all your trouble, you were worth it. You didn't shy away from any challenge, and your insistant nosing to be snuggled and loved on made it clear that you loved us as much as we loved you. While you were always up for a snuggle with me, you were clearly my husband's girl, and would fawn over him at every opportunity.

You were still just a baby, the eldest of our three pups. You were less than a year old, and we will miss you.

Goodbye, Rosy.

Remembering: Junebug

Dear little Junebug came into our life after we fell in love with the Boxer breed (Lady, who passed away due to cancer in mid 2012) and we wanted to add another one to our family. We planned you from the time your mother was pregnant. You were picked out right after birth.

We were able to come visit you as a tiny puppy and fell in love right away. You came home when you were old enough and fell right into place. We had a scare with you as a pup: you lost some weight and had a bit of failure to thrive, but with some assistance from your breeder and some adjustments, you began to grow!

You gave us some trouble as a youngster, and there were some times I was frustrated with you, but as you began to mature, you showed yourself to be loyal beyond all else. You had the most solid recall of any dog I have ever owned in my life.

You loved to sleep under the blanket, just like the smaller dogs. You were not happy unless you were as snuggled up to us as you could be. You would nudge me in the mornings to lift the blanket so I could cuddle up to you and sleep in.

You may have considered our poultry as your next dinner, but you had a heart of pure gold when it came to puppies. Every puppy who came into our home, be they foster or permanant family members, you took under your paw and protected, loved, played with, and cared for.

Watching you with the youngsters was always a great joy in my life. Despite being our only large dog after Lady passed away, I knew I could trust you to play gently with the others.

You had a lot of fun mannerisms, including spinning in circles when excited and "talking" to us. Every day you and I would play "tag" in the fields, taking turns chasing each other. My hearts breaks at the thought that we were never able to explore our new home and it's surroundings together, as I had planned.

You are well known to many because of your gentle caring of Ellie, and I hope they all remember you as I will.

There is some small chance that you did escape, though in my heart I do believe you ran into the house, or under it, and perished. Either way, we will probably never see you again, but I hope your spirit will live on in your sister's pup, yet unborn but expected...

You were just over two years old.

Goodbye, Junebug.

Remembering: Luna

Oh Luna...you held and will always hold a special place in my heart. You were the second dog added to our little family. You came to me in a time when I was suffering a painful loss and was falling into a spiral of depression. You were exactly what I needed.

I wasn't even expecting to get a puppy - my aunt asked me to come look at puppies with her. You were actually Star's half sister, born a year later from a planned Chihuahua breeding. I saw your fat little white body and fell in love immediately.

While you never learned the tricks your big sister did, you learned ones of your own.We would tease you, telling you to "get the bad guy" and you would puff up and bark like you were someone fierce! But anyone who visited would get a mouthful of kisses from you.

Your joy in life transferred to all of us. Watching you fearlessly play with the larger dogs always made me laugh and brightened my day. You were the undisputed Queen of the farm, and the other dogs lived by your discretion.

Your favorite toys were always ones that were too big for you. You loved to sleep under the blanket, in a pillowcase, in my shirt. No way would you be found "naked." You put up with me stuffing you into cute clothing with a patience that you showed no one else.

You were bold, brave, friendly, and loving. You were a true heart dog, the kind that comes along so rarely in our lives.

You were just six years old, and each of those six years were an honor to share with you by my side, or more often, in my shirt.

Goodbye, my sweet Luna.

Remembering: Star

Star. You were the first dog that Steven and I brought into our life together. The first dog I owned after the devastating loss of my childhood best friend.

You had a lot to live up to and did it admirably. The accidental result of the neighbor's Dachshund getting in with a family friend's Chihuahua.

I knew when I saw you as a baby that I wanted you.

You were a fun loving pup that went to work with me, and consequentially, loved everyone you met.

You had intelligence unrivaled by any other member of our pack. We taught you fun tricks like high-five, roll over, and trained you to pick out a hidden treat from closed hands. All crowd-pleasers and fun to show off.

While you never had pups of your own, you had a maternal side, although it wasn't aimed at your own species. You much preferred to mother kittens, even going so far as to steal kittens from foster cats we had. I often had to retrieve a kitten and return it to its disgruntled mother.

You had a great desire for milk - anytime Steven would have a glass of milk you would beg shamefully, and he would always oblidge, despite my protests.

While you were not a huge fan of the additions we made to our pack, you tolerated them with good will and we even caught you playing with the others from time to time. However, your favorite game was catch, and when we asked if you were "ready" you would respond with an enthusiastic bark.

You could always be found hidden beneath the blankets, snug and warm. Your favorite spot was in between Steven and I, the prime spot as befits the eldest of our pack.

You were seven years old when you were taken from us and each and every year was worth it. I will miss you and your stoic loyalty for the rest of my life.

Goodbye, Star.

The Fire

It's taken me a little time to get to this, but I do want to write out the entire event for everyone. Writing has always been rather soothing for me.

On the 20th of December, the day started as normal. I was picked up by my boss to head to work and Steven had already left. I spent the day trimming hooves and around 6pm, Steven arrived to pick me up and we headed home.

About halfway home, I received a chilling phone call from a neighbor. Our house was on fire. My heart stopped. I cannot even begin to explain the feeling. I was shaking but trying very hard to hold it together, warning Steven to not drive too fast, that speeding and possibly crashing would not help the situation.

I knew, even before we arrived, that the house would go up quickly. Living out where we did, there are no fire hydrants and the roads are so bad, the Fire Department's trucks could barely get down them. I was terrified that my brother, who was home alone and often sleeps during the day (as we all do) would be injured or even worse. I was scared to death for my dogs, locked in my bedroom, and for Spyder, locked directly behind the house.

We turned the corner on our road and we could see it, blazing a bright light in the darkness. My stomach turned over and it took extreme effort to keep it down. We pulled up across the street and I rushed out, seeking a fire fighter to ask them about my brother, my dogs, and Spyder.

My brother turned up then, hair singed but alive. He was crying and begged for my forgiveness, but all I could do was hold him.

The entire house was engulfed.

According to my brother, he was watching television in the game room when he noticed a smell. The neighbors often times burn trash, so he didn't think too much of it until the entire house electrical made an audible pop. He got up and went to our room, and when he opened the door, the window blew out and he was confronted with a horrifying sight, everyone's worst nightmare. He froze for an instant, then rushed inside, trying to find the dogs, but was forced back by the heat, which singed his hair.

He got out, and Junebug, our Boxer, preceded him. He lost sight of her as he ran around to the back of the house. He opened the gate and Spyder left the airlock calmly amid flying embers, at least one of which had burned him, and joined the other two horses.

From there he waited with neighbors as the fire department arrived and then we pulled up.

I told him clearly, this was NOT his fault, and he did everything he could, and that getting out was the best thing for him. I, all of us really, were in shock and could do little more than give reports to the police, fire department, and ambulance, and sit there.

I called a neighbor we are good friends with and he came down, offering us a place to stay for the night. I called my boss, and my best friend, who spread the word online about our devastation.

We sat and watched it burn for some time, then drove to the neighbors, unable to stomach the sight anymore. More neighbors and friends were waiting there and gathered us up, offering us food and alcohol to calm our nerves. They set up a place for us to sleep and we retired, sick at heart. I spent the entire night in tears, head aching and stomach in knots, and rose early in the morning, waking my husband and brother. The neighbor fed us breakfast, and then we went back to look at the house.

A total loss. There was literally nothing left of our life. Only what we had in the truck and the clothes we were wearing. I could not bear to look inside, but Steven did. He brought out Pixie and Ellie, who were far enough from the fire to have not been totally burned, and we buried them underneath the oak tree side by side. Of the other dogs, no sign was found, but they had been sleeping where the fire started and was hottest.

We called for Junebug, to no avail. Our horses had escaped in the night, but kind neighbors had rounded them up. I went over and talked to them for a bit and checked the horses, who had some scrapes and burns, but were fine. My boss showed up to see us and take a look, and as I was walking back to the house, Steven appeared with one of our cats, Mr Gibbs, clutched to his chest. He was shaking badly, but unharmed, and I placed him safely in my boss' vehicle to be taken to her home.

I spent some time talking to several other people, and after speaking to my best friend, began to get an idea of what was going on online. People everywhere were stepping up, donating funds and items, asking for our information. It almost came as a shock - I did not expect anything from anyone, all I wanted was good thoughts. I was not afraid of being homeless - our boss offered us their spare bedroom and our new house on their farm would be finished soon enough. Material possessions, although painful to lose, because much of it had meaning, could eventually be replaced with new possessions with new stories behind them. I avoided, and honestly, am still avoiding, any thought of the lives lost in the fire.

I had to stay strong, for my husband, for my brother. I needed to keep my head up and take control - they depend on me to keep everything running smoothly, even in the face of adversity, so I did my best.

A reporter arrived and we spent some time with her, then returned to my neighbor's home where I was able to use the computer and see JUST how much people were stepping up. There are no words at all to explain the feelings I had, watching the posts come in, the offers, the good will and kind thoughts and jingles. It overwhelmed and humbled me.

That evening, we gathered the horses up with ropes and borrowed halters and walked them to a spot where another good friend pulled up her horse trailer. All three, even Apple who has not been loaded since the day I bought her, got on and rode fine to their new home, where they were let loose in the pasture to graze and relax. I had a lot of worry about Spyder, who has suffered from stress stomach aches, but he did just fine.

I did manage to sleep that night, and we spent the next day with even MORE amazing friends who came to help us with our new home. They got an amazing amount of work done (and are returning today!)

Donations were brought, and being mailed. Funds for new furniture and other things are deposited in my Paypal. It was astonishing to watch it unfold.

Even now, things are unreal and numb, but we continue to move forward. My husband stopped on his way home from work last night, around 10:30pm, and was calling for our possibly only surviving dog, Junebug, when he heard a meow. He found our other cat, Snickers, huddled in what was left of our bedroom. Her whiskers were singed and her fur burnt, but she came out to him and he placed her in the truck and called me.

I woke up this morning very blessed. My husband well, my two cats sleeping beside us, and friends and family all over the world wishing us good thoughts. I will continue to stay as busy as I can. I know that there will come a time when I will have to, need to, sit down and grieve for what was lost, but for now, it's forward into a new age.

Bless all of you, and thank you, and have a wonderful Holiday, whichever you celebrate, and if you celebrate none, have a wonderful week!

Dog Ribbons?

What the hell is this nonsense?

Personally I find this ridiculous! Our society has de-evolved so much we cannot even respect another person's space and property (dogs are technically property) without some kind of visual REMINDER like a ribbon.

Because goodness forbid now days that parents teach their kids that it's impolite and DANGEROUS to rush a strange dog without the owner's permission, right? Or even know this lesson themselves.

I can't count the number of times I've had both children AND adults rush my pets when I've had them out and about. It's a darn good thing all of my pets are heavily socialized and eager to meet new people (with the exception of our Boxer), but it could be such a dangerous situation.

On a related note, why is it so hard to keep your own pet under control? Your dog should *not* be rushing out at me when I am walking my own dog. No yellow ribbon is going to stop that! And for owners who allow their dog to drag them into the space or another dog or pet, well, there's a special place in my mind for you!

If you're going to take the responsibility of another living creature, then it's YOUR job to have control and to teach him or her proper etiquette on meeting other animals.

One Lucky Dog, One Stupid Owner

Talk about one lucky dog.

"The dog survived being wedged into the front grille of a car while the driver drove through two states.

"When I went to pull her out realized part of the reason she was stuck was because she was gripping her paws around the inside of the bumper holding on for dear life," said East Providence Animal Control Officer William Muggle.

The ordeal started ten days ago on Route 44 in Taunton, Massachusetts.

A driver said he saw the dog running in the road.

The driver hit the brakes, then tried to avoid hitting the dog, and thought he had.

When he looked around the car he didn't see the dog anywhere.

Unknown to the driver, the dog was wedged into the front of the car.

"The gentleman then kept driving, through four towns, some 11 miles before he was finally stopped at an intersection and someone spotted the dog," said Muggle.

The intersection was in East Providence.

He immediately drove to the police station, where animal control had her checked out.

After a one night hospital stay they say she's fine."

That's a pretty cool story, right?

Until you read the follow up about the owner.

Suzie, the poodle mix that was hit by a car and driven for 11 miles wedged in the front of the vehicle, is happy to be home. But her owners are taking steps to ensure a similar incident doesn’t happen again. 

Suzie was injured but is now “back to her usual self,” owner says. (East Providence Animal Control Center)

“She was gone and I couldn’t find her anywhere,” said Suzie’s owner, Peter, who did not want his last name published. “They do move fast.”

Peter had let the 6-year-old poodle mix out in the backyard of his Dighton home on Sept. 20. He said he got distracted a bit and when he went to let Suzie back in, she was nowhere to be found.

“She dug a hole up under the fence,” he said in a telephone interview. “She digs from time to time. She’s dug out once before and got out.”

He contacted animal control services in Dighton and Rehoboth the next day but heard nothing until a friend of his saw Suzie on the 11 o’clock news, Peter said.

He went to the East Providence Animal Control Center to pick Suzie up and said she was very excited to see him.

Wait a minute? This darling poodle cross has dug out of your yard before? And instead of taking measures to prevent a tragedy *before* it happens, you allow it to continue to happen again and again, until the dog manages to hitch herself a ride?

These owners are damned lucky the dog is not dead.

Look people - animals are your responsibility. That includes having a safe place for them to live. It's YOUR responsibility to make sure your animal cannot escape his or her enclosure, both for their safety and for the safety of the public.

The owner says they are making adjustments to their home, including,

“My kids are going to walk her,” he said. 

He also plans to set up a dog run using a long leash and clothesline so that Suzie can dig all she wants without escaping the yard.

Gee, nice. And even then, I wouldn't mind so much except for...

He asked that Suzie’s fans donate to the East Providence Animal Control Center to help defray the cost of her vet bills.

Are you fucking kidding me? YOUR dog got out of YOUR yard and was hit because of YOU. No one should be paying for this animal's medical bills except YOU. Take responsibility for your actions, for fuck's sake! If you can't afford to pay for it, then it's time for your little dog to go to a home that can actually care for her.

It only takes a second folks - my dear employer hit a dog last weekend. It ran right out in front of us from it's home right on the highway. Instantly killed. Is it really that hard to ensure that your pet is contained and unable to run out into the road, ending his life, breaking your heart, and upsetting the poor folks who had the misfortune of hitting your pet?

Exploiting a Wild Animal - Disgusting!

What the fuck is this??

What kind of reptile keeper is this guy? It's one thing to have an attraction where people can come and observe a reptile such as an alligator in it's habitat, or even get to see it eat, but this is revolting.

Wild animals are not here for our entertainment. Education, yes. Entertainment, no. That puts zoos and marine parks such as Sea World on a fine line of course - some would call a zoo entertainment and there is no doubt that Sea World's shows *are* entertainment, but Sea World and most zoos also play a huge part in education and conservation of those species.

This on the other hand, is infuriating. Let's tape closed the mouth of a prehistoric predator and dump it into a chemical filled swimming pool, to be harassed by humans who know no better. The keeper *should* know better! Why not bring some animals to a party - let the children see them, perhaps even pet them, and *learn* about the animals.

Not play Marco Polo with it.

Disgusting.

One Of Our Own?

Those of us who spend a large amount of time online - forums, chat rooms, Facebook, often grow to "know" other people even though we have never met them.

We read their posts, see pictures of their animals, learn about them.

That's why it can come as a massive shock when we hear that one of our "own" has had their animals seized for cruelty or neglect.


This has happened recently. While I did not "know" this person except by her posts, it came as quite a surprise to suddenly be informed that her entire herd of breeding cow ponies were seized due to neglect.

As it often happens in this situation, those of us who heard about it first immediately jumped to her defense. Surely this was not true - there is some excuse for whatever reason the county and sheriff came up with the seize the animals. We'd seen pictures of her happy healthy horses many times. How could it have fallen apart so quickly?

Then the evidence began to surface. Horses with bad feet, a horse that had to be euthanized, among others. I will say that in this case, most of the offender's horses were in okay shape. But there was enough neglect to justify the seizure. Should the county wait until all of the horses are lame from overgrown hooves and thin before taking action?

What I find more concerning though, to be honest, is the rescue that has taken the horses. Pictures from their Facebook wall show large dirty dry lots, where hay is thrown onto the ground and buried in manure and mud. Adoption pictures of one mare show her ribby and rough looking despite being there for a month - plenty of time to put on healthy weight and a shiny coat with a *good* health regimen.

The rescue has already approached people begging for donations of hay and posts. How can they possibly handle taking on over 30 more horses?

To me, this entire situation smells like rotten fish.

It's interesting how quickly things can roll out of control, especially when you have such a large herd of animals. And it's interesting that sometimes animals seized by the county end up "out of the frying pan and into the fire."

A sad situation all around.

Dominant Traits in Goats

A lot of people know some goats are born polled (hornless) and some are born with blue eyes. But SO many people don't quite understand how this works!

I'm going to use "X" to denote both polled and blue eyes, because they are both a dominant trait, and interchangeable for the sake of this bit of a genetics lesson.

Let's say you have a doe who exhibits X and a buck who doesn't. You breed them.

Xx stands for the doe. This means she exhibits the trait (ie blue eyes). xx stands for the buck. He does not exhibit the trait.

If you breed Xx with xx, because it is a DOMINANT trait, and not recessive, you stand to get:

50% Xx
50% xx

In clearer terms, each kid has half a chance of exhibiting the blue eyes. Each kid also has half a chance of having plain eyes.

Now, you breed a Xx with a Xx. Two blue eyed goats.

This means you get 100% blue eyes right?

Wrong.

Because this is a dominant trait, both goats most LIKELY carry the brown eyed/horned gene as well. This means you get:

50% Xx
25% XX
25% xx

But wait, what does this mean? There's three results.

Xx is obviously a blue eyed kid. xx is a brown eyed kid. So what is XX?

XX is a homozygous blue eyed kid. The homozygous means that it carries two copies of the blue eyed gene. This means if you breed a homozygous goat, all of its offspring will have blue eyes.

Now, I am not 100% certain homozygous blue eyed/polled goats exist. They should. Doesn't mean they do.

Confused yet? It's okay, it just takes some practice.

But let me get some things straight.

Your goat cannot CARRY the polled or blue eyed gene without exhibiting it. There is NO non-visual heterozygous for these traits, because they are dominant.

If you breed a blue eyed/polled goat to a blue eyed goat/polled goat, you can STILL get brown eyed/horned kids. You're more likely to get what you're seeking, but each kid still has that chance of the draw.

Hope this helps. I've seen one too many comments about "carrying" such and such gene or "guaranteed to have such and such gene kids."

Hero Pig Saves Goat

"Things do not look good for the baby goat at the start of this clip. It's stuck in deep water at a petting zoo, bleating and kicking to no avail as human onlookers stand by and watch without thinking to dive to its aid. Just when all hope seems lost — is it a bird? Is it a plane? Nope, it's a pig, who saves the stricken goat's bacon by nudging it to shallower waters, where it finds its footing and escapes to dry land. "

 Link

Is that cool or what?  Just had to share with you guys. 

Guest Blog: The Deaf, the Blind, and the Goats

You can read more like this here.

 Bringing in the Herd

Summers in Texas are hot. Dreadfully hot. Often times so hot that you're lucky if your sweat can even make it down your face before it evaporates.

Generally I don't mind the heat. Texas born and raised, I'm used to it. It's the cold I detest, to be honest.

Today the goats needed to have their hooves trimmed. Since it was the middle of the day, the entire herd was out - out somewhere on about 38 acres total, stuffing their little faces with whatever green that looked tasty at that moment in time.

Frank motioned me over and pantomimed, (since I have proven to be quite slow at picking up ASL, especially when he signs so quickly my poor vision simply cannot keep up), that I needed to go out and find the goats. He described a fallen down barn on the far end where they liked to congregate.

Okay, I can do that. I went out the small gate and trooped off to look for them. This was the first time I'd gone out on the big pasture. I found their trail quick enough - when eighty or so goats pass a certain way multiple times, it leaves plenty of evidence, even for me to see.

I followed the trail until I found the fallen barn. No goats.

Frowning, I looked around, then walked in a large circle and called the goats, listening for a response.

Nothing.

Even I'm not so blind as to miss an entire herd of goats. Annoyed, I headed out to circle the pasture, feet aching a bit in my work boots.

I eventually came back around to where I began, now seriously ticked off. Not a single goat in sight. Frank appeared, apparently concerned I hadn't appeared at the head of a flood of goats yet. He motioned to me and we walked the entire circuit again. 

Not one goat popped out to say hi to us.

Feet now throbbing and my temper shortened by a considerable deal, we returned to find the goats laying around in front of the barn, chewing their cud.

Sigh.

Stop it stop it STOP IT

Click to view larger.

Oh god, how my blood pressure rose when a friend linked me this add. No, just...no. 

Stop this! Why on earth would anyone want to do this? Why does it still happen?

Look people. Some of you may or may not know that I have extensive experience with exotic mammals. Wolves first and foremost. I have lived with them, handled them, raised them. I have studied their behavior for an immense multitude of years. I have even been part of games where we play as wolf characters.

Wolves are not PETS. They are NOT DOGS. They do NOT belong in a home. 

Meet Princess Winterhawk. 

Princess was the best friend I ever had. She was born when I was ten years old and stayed with my a short six years until her untimely death. She slept in my bed and we logged many many miles together. She was *only* 32% percent Canis lupus.

And she was NOT A DOG. And could not be contained or handled like one. 

Let me break it down for you. Even with this low percentage wolf mix, I needed eight foot fencing to keep her contained. Hot wire at top and bottom or she WOULD go over or under it. She could not be chained - she broke several. 

She had a prey drive - no prey type animal was *ever* safe around her. She mistrusted strangers and could have bitten someone if I was not as careful and experienced as I was. She was very smart, but the kind of smart that makes it harder to train her to exhibit behaviors that many dogs will fall over themselves to learn and preform for you. 

Never again will I raise or keep a wolf or wolf mix. In fact the list of exotic mammals I would keep again is very short, and I am an *experienced* keeper. 

The people breeding these are disgusting. Any fool off the street could walk up and buy one of these wolf mix puppies for $200. How long until there is another story in the news about a "vicious" wolf "hybrid" attacking a child or person or the neighbor's pets. 

You will never hear me lobby for laws *against* the keeping of exotic animals, but you can be damned sure I think there should be far stricter regulations on who gets to keep them and there should be regulations even stronger on who is allowed to breed them, and why. 

Please excuse me while I go have a breather, before I pop a vein in my poor overtaxed brain.

So You Want To Breed Goats?

First off you have to realize, there is almost NO research done on goats. 99% of what you will be using is NOT marketed towards goats. And vets have no earthly idea what they are talking about. Goats are NOT cattle!

To remain healthy, ALIVE, and productive, a breeding doe needs a great amount of supportive care. Deworming, proper diet, supplements, minerals. The bucks put a LOT of effort into breeding and need the same.

Here is a BASIC run down of things on my end.

Dry (open does not in milk) does are being fed grass hay and a bit of grain every day. A month before breeding season, grain begins to increase! I begin pouring it into them - this helps them to ovulate and release more eggs. A single kid birth is a troublesome birth.

ALL does come in to get their feet trimmed, supplemented with Bo-Se (prescription) for selenium, and dewormed pre-breeding twice. They've already received a copper bolus in June.

Breeding rolls around. I have the buck - he is stinking himself and everything else up. I hand breed everyone if I can and then he lives with the herd to catch any who might come back into estrus.

Grain feed increases slowly. Come December everyone gets copper bolused again and I begin adding alfalfa to the diet - the calcium is a MUST. They also begin to get yeast and powdered calcium in their feed.

February rolls around - time for the buck to leave if he hasn't already. All this time between then and now you've been working on getting him back in shape. He'll have lost weight and could possibly have urine scald on his legs. You'll have been separating him to feed as he is not supposed to get an unproportionate amount of calcium vs phosphorous but still needs a good diet to get his weight back. He needs to be bolused just like the does, as well as given Bo-Se before and after breeding to keep fertility up. Dewormed before and after as well, and his feet trimmed no matter how badly he was stinking.

Everyone by now should be showing their udders and I will know who settled and who didn't. Hopefully everyone did. They receive their CD/T booster, Bo-Se, and I now begin to pay far more attention to their moods and actions.

March! KIDDING TIME! Five months after they are bred, I now face multiple sleepless nights. Every doe is checked multiple times during the day. I pay special attention to several points - udder, hind legs, tail ligaments, behavior. All of these can tell me when they are due to kid. If I feel they are close, they go into the kidding stall and I watch them on camera.

Kidding! If all goes well, the most I need to do is wipe off noses and make sure the babies nurse. Or more likely, I'm sorting out tangled kids in utero and helping them into the world. I hold scared first fresheners until they understand what their babies are. I pray that no kid is so large I cannot pull it on my own. I pray no doe tears inside and needs to be put down.

Mama gets dewormed again, babies get umbilicals dipped and get a vit e and selenium supplement. They are kept stalled for a couple days if I don't need the stall immediately, then out with the herd. Babies MUST have access to safe warm dry shelter. A wet and cold baby goat is a DEAD baby goat, period.

Kids now need to be disbudded. Nothing like the smell of burnt hair and flesh and horn bud. Kids need their CD/T booster. Kids need to be pulled from mama and taught to nurse from a bottle before going to new homes.

Now mamas need to be milked. Their grain and alfalfa ration is huge. They eat it all and demand more. They lick up every bit of the expensive minerals and demand more. The newbie moms have to be hobbled and taught what milking is all about. The pros kick the bucket over from time to time to remind you who is really in charge.

Any kids you kept are either nursing mama and need to be separated at night once they are old enough so you can milk in the morning, or you are bottle feeding up to 3-4 times a day. They need to be carefully managed - coccidosis and worms are a massive killer of baby goats, and what they don't kill, they stunt.

So kids are on some kind of preventive program. If you can get Baycox, you can get away with one dose at 21 days. If not, you are using Corid or Albon or Sulmet and treating orally every 21 days for five days in a row. You are also carefully deworming with the proper dosages and dewormer every 21 days. PREVENTION in kids is key if you want them to grow robust. They also eat an amazing amount of high protein for their size.

Now you are milking every day, usually twice a day. NO excuse - you must get up and milk. You must be home to milk. Each udder must be wiped down, the teats stripped of that first squirt and checked for mastitis. Then you milk. You dip the teats and shoo the doe back out. Then the milk must be QUICKLY strained and chilled and you bring in the next doe to milk.

So forth until you decide to dry the doe up which means careful watching that she doesn't become too full in her udder which is painful and could cause issues. Finally, she's dry!

And breeding season looms ahead of you again. Time to decide who is ready to be bred, who to breed to, and start all over again.


And remember...these are just the BASICS of breeding goats. I didn't even begin to touch on all the BAD things that can happen.

Forbidden Pets

Every year I come across stories about someone who has gotten a pet, be is chickens, a goat, a miniature horse, so forth and so on, only to "discover" that these animals are not allowed in their neighborhood/city.

Cue the news reporters swooping in, the forum posts, the Facebook pages, all based on fighting the "man" in an effort to keep their pets.

You know what I don't get?

Why not do the research BEFORE you get the animals?

I just do not understand. So many people will rally around the "unfortunate" owners and sign petitions and write letters in an effort to help the owners. They will blast the city/neighborhood and yell at the top of their lungs about how unfair it is.

All the while I'm sitting there with a frown, wondering why the responsibility of double checking your local ordinances is not even considered.

Look people. If you want to get a new pet, make sure you're allowed to keep it before you run out and bring it home. Don't bring it home and then kick up a stink when you get reported for BREAKING THE LAW.

You damn idiots. Personal responsibility - where has it gone?

A Moment in Time - of Stupid

So! I've been so terribly busy I haven't had a ton of time to blog, but never fear my friends. I hope to get at least a post a week in now. So sorry for my hiatus.

Look at this picture.

Awww...it's so cute!!


Yeah...maybe not.

I'm not a terribly callous person, I can see why this picture appeals to those who are a bit ignorant about horses and the dangers of being around a creature that outweighs you by so much. To some, this is certainly a very sweet and loving picture.

To me, I see a dreadfully risky scenario that could so easily end with a serious injury.

First off, it is simply never a good idea to stand in front of your horse, in my opinion. If a horse becomes frightened, which way is it going to go? Forward.

Add in the fact that this child has the horse's leg WRAPPED around her waist - good lord! All that horse has to do is pull his leg back suddenly and that child is underneath that horse and potentially hurt.

Sure, lots of people like their horses to be in their space, nuzzling, putting his head over your shoulder. Mine are not allowed to do such a thing. As a very small person, I am only TOO away of how it only takes a second for an accident to happen, and in that event, it's far more likely that *I* will get hurt instead of the horse. Is that REALLY worth it?

Please people. Use a little sense. This is not a cute picture, it is a disaster waiting to happen.

And for heaven's sake, put some real shorts on that girl.