I never thought I’d own a moral buck, but it’s finally happened. We’ve owned a
lot of bucks over the last ten years, Nubians, Angoras, and now fullblood Boers,
and not a one of them ever acted like they had a shred of decency. All of them
also suffered a type of dementia by the time they hit two years of age in that they
forgot who you were.
One day they are this sweet, gentle, baby buck, looking for a hug and a petting and
the next day, after they turn two, they lose their minds and they chase you around
the chicken house, roaring death threats at your quickly retreating back. The does
are even shocked at this quick change in the bucks’ behavior.
Doe no. 1: "What’s that buck doing? Doesn’t he know that’s Connie he’s chasing
around the chicken house?"
Doe no. 2: "He’s that age. He’s lost his mind. He got up this morning and
misplaced it somewhere."
Doe no. 1: "Oh, that age again, huh? Whatever happened to that buck that did this
last year?"
Doe no. 2: "I don’t know, but Connie said something about a barbecue."
They continue chewing their cud as they watch me go sailing over the gate. And, it
never fails. Eventually all my bucks, except I have to admit the Angoras, brains
disappear at age two or more. Why the Angoras didn’t I have a theory. Twice a
year from the time they had hair long enough, the Angora bucks were thrown and
rolled from side to side and sheared. They had a great deal of respect for anyone
who could do this to them. They had to keep their wits about them in order to
survive being totally denuded twice a year.
The other bucks weren’t treated this way so they didn’t care if they misplaced
their brain someplace. Either that or it’s something in the water on the farm
causing their brains to disappear. But, it can’t be that. I drink the water and I’m
sharp as a... Sharp as a... Oh well, whatever it is it’s very sharp.
Or, it’s an alien invasion thing. Aliens fly over, steal the buck’s brains, never
realizing the buck won’t miss it, and go on to the next farm. There are so many
things it can be to have a perfectly sane buck one day and the next day he’s
chasing you around the chicken house. I’ve grown use to this by now, but one
thing I have never seen is a moral buck and this one I have now won’t hit two
years of age for three months yet, so he’s reasonably sane at the moment.
A couple of months ago I decided to breed some mature fullblood does early and
put them in the buck’s pen. He quietly and efficiently did his job and then enjoyed
the does’ company by lying around and swapping stories of last year’s tasty brush,
while chewing their cuds. They had a great two weeks together of socializing and
when I was sure everyone was bred that was going to be bred, I moved the older
girls out.
I had some nice size yearling fullblood and purebred does I wanted bred at this
time, so I moved them into the buck’s pen. When the buck walked around the
building and came into view, the young girls took one look, squealed, and took off
to the other end of the pen. They never realized a goat could grow that big. The
buck gave me a disgusted look. He looked at the cowering young girls at the end of
the pen and back at me as if to say, "What are you doing? These are minors! You
are going to get me in trouble with the law!" and he walked away from them.
That’s when I realized I had a moral buck on my hands.
By suppertime the girls over came their fears and charged the feed troughs. The
buck politely backed up to let them in. After that, anything that scared them, they
ran to him. One time they were crowded around him because of some noise and I
saw him looking over their backs to the older does in the other pasture with
longing, then he looked at me in disgust. I slinked away.
The young girls were a trial for him. They bucked and played and chased
butterflies with delight. He would be standing there, chewing his cud, minding his
own business, and the young girls would go racing by, almost bowling him over.
Or, they would decide they needed a good back rub and throw themselves down
near him, kick their legs up in the air. Flopping from side to side in young ecstasy,
kicking him with each flop, until he was forced to leave his favorite standing and
ruminating spot and go somewhere else.
Or worse yet, when the young does made fun of him. Like a bunch of
teenyboppers, chewing their gum loudly, blowing big bubbles and popping it,
carrying boom boxes, giggling among each other. This group of young does would
gather together, buck and leap in the air from youthful vigor and then look at him
and start mimicking him.
You could almost hear them say, "And, I saw him do this and this." And they’d
jump on each other’s backs and then get off and start giggling and looking at him,
making fun of his actions with the older does. The buck just rolled his eyes and
looked at me accusingly.
Finally, the young does came in heat and he quietly and efficiently bred them. I
moved them out that day to be in a pasture beside him so if they didn’t take I
could put them back in again. He never hollered once when they left. He just
turned his back on them and walked off. Good riddance was his attitude. It’s rough
being a moral buck.
THE END
