I have a 7 month old baby doe who can’t make up her mind what she is going to be when she grows up. Should she become a pro wrestler or a puppy? It’s a hard decision and she won’t even consider growing up to be a regular good natured doe who has plenty of babies for me. How boring is that, she asks.
She has to be the strangest kid I have raised so far. You have to keep an eye out if you are anywhere in her pen or field. She likes to do sneak attacks. For instance, take the other evening. I was out watering, cleaning out tubs and buckets and putting fresh water in, when a thunderstorm suddenly rolled in.
I had to take shelter in the weanlings large run-in shed. I flipped over an empty 200 lb. size molasses tub to sit on and watch it rain and pet babies. My little future pro wrestler/puppy came up to me, walking sideways, twisted her head and neck to one side, doing a little prancing step, saying, “So, you want a piece of me?” The next thing I knew she lunged at my side, jumping half in my lap, twisting her head and neck, throwing her body against me.
So, I had to defend myself and put her head in a headlock with one arm, and rubbed her side vigorously with the other hand, giving her tiny little shakes. “You think you can take me, do you?” I asked her. Oh, she loved it. Most babies like nice easy petting, not this little pro wrestler.
She broke loose and bounced away and came back in a rush, rearing up to pound me on the back and shoulder with her front feet. Evidently, boxing was going to be included in her pro wrestling routine.
I twisted around and put an arm around her body and the other to the front of her chest and gave her a little squeeze, rubbing her vigorously again. She loved it. Twisting around, throwing her head up and down, eyes just sparkling. I turned her loose and pushed her over to the round bale in the run-in shed and told her to act like a goat and eat some hay.
She came bouncing at me again and grabbed my shirt and twisted and jerked like a pup trying to take a rag away from you. “So, you’re a pup now, are you?” The whole time the other ten weanlings were standing around, bug eyed, watching their crazy companion.
I have to admit, no wonder this particular baby doe was a bit unusual acting. She didn’t start out normal to begin with. Her mother had started kidding one morning and by 9 a.m. had triplets, passed the afterbirth, and we thought that was it. At 2 p.m. that afternoon Lee was down at the barn working on blocking some drafts and he heard this doe grunting and he went to check. She popped out another kid! Her triplets had suddenly turned into quads. And, it was this same very unusual acting little girl that popped out so late. It was simply amazing. No wonder she was a strange acting kid. She was either use to doing everything her way or having to fight to survive. What a kid.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw she had circled around the hay bale and was coming at me from a different side. The cutest thing you ever saw, head and neck twisting that way, those bouncy little steps, and then a flying leap to crash into my side as I sat there. Once again I had her in a headlock and rubbed her sides. She was just ecstatic as she flailed away with her little front hooves, doing her best to knock me off the tub.
You can even be walking through the pasture and she’ll come bouncing at you sideways and bump into your leg, daring you to take her on. Or, you find yourself with a kid hanging onto the back of your shirt, swinging from side to side as you go walking by.
A thought did occur to me, I had always figured she would grow out of her playfulness. But, what if I end up with an adult doe who thinks she is a gigantic puppy? Or, worse, a professional wrestler? I don’t think I can take on a goat that weighs more than me.
Time will tell if I have created a monster. Okay, I know I already have, but she’s such a cute little monster. I may have to change my sale ads to having cute little and big monsters for sale, along with 4-H wethers, breeding stock, and commercial.
Now, where did she go? The rain has stopped and I’d better be on my toes. She’s hiding behind something, waiting for me to move. It’s time to be on the monster alert as I try to sneak out of the pro-wrestler’s/puppy pen.