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Clover is lovelorn.

Her babies are five months old. She’s moved on. She’s been watching Meg Ryan movies and listening to Barry Manilow CDs and eating too many cookies. She wants a man.
And not just any man. She wants Cowboy.

Cowboy is the one on the right. The black-and-white stud with blue eyes. Blue eyes in goats are so cool. I’m hoping Clover will have blue-eyed babies if she is bred by Cowboy. Clover is just hoping for a hot date. She doesn’t care about the blue eyes. I do. Clover was bred previously with Champ (on the left). Champ is Nutmeg’s and Honey’s papa. Not that he cares or has sent any child support recently. (The one in the middle is a wether, like Honey. Neutered. He isn’t going to be anyone’s papa and he doesn’t care.)
Clover appeared to be in heat this past weekend (appeared to be in heat means she was mooning about with her tail straight up and bleating nonstop), but snow prevented us from setting her up to get knocked up. In order to be sure next time she appears to be in heat (in case we have to decide whether or not braving snow is in order), we got a buck rag.

What is a buck rag? Rub down an “aromatic” buck with a cloth then stick it in a canning jar or a Ziploc bag. (The note reads: Suzanne–Eau de buck. –Pete) When you think a doe is in heat, you let her sniff the cloth and see if she gets excited.
I got this buck rag from Pete and Missy, our nearby goat farmer friends and Clover’s former owners. I didn’t get to see Pete rub Cowboy down, though that might have been interesting….. Well, if you’re me and I’m weird. Missy dropped the sealed buck rag off over at the old farmhouse. I called Georgia and said, “Missy’s dropping off a buck rag. Okay, never mind, just don’t open it. Trust me, you don’t want to.”
Hopefully, Clover’ll come into heat again in a few weeks. I’ll show her the buck rag and we’ll rush her over to Cowboy’s arms.
And we’ll have babies in the spring.

These are some of the bucklings born at Pete and Missy’s farm this summer. If you’re in the market for a Nigerian Dwarf buck, let me know and I’ll hook you up. They have a few extra.
Of course, I want Clover to have doelings. Lots of doelings.
You’ll cooperate, won’t you, Clover?
CLOVER?!

I have cookies……….
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"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....
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