Enough about how they got here, time to meet the real stars of the show: Roxy and Dusty. Night and day. If I didn’t know they came out of the same goat, I would not believe it. This coming from a tall, loquacious redhead with a short, reserved, brunette twin sister. I should have expected this I guess.
I mentioned the goats across the street. I call them designer goats. Their owners, the Argyles, are very dedicated and knowledgeable. They have pure bred goats from prestigious stock. They show their goats and can probably trace their pedigrees back to the two who got on Noah’s ark. The Argyles are also the most amazing people you will ever meet: generous, warm and kind. So kind, I wonder if they watch us scrambling around and just keep their thoughts to themselves. They have been a great resource for us as we get started in this barnyard scene.
Now contrast their goats to my sweet Dustbunny. She is what you might call a mutt. I am not even sure what kind of goat she is. I was told Toggenburg Alpine blend, but who knows? And I don’t know what breed the dad was. So while the Argyles have a good idea of what to expect when their goats kid—the finest of Nubian champion stock—I have a walking piñata in my backyard. We didn’t know what was coming out until she popped. And what a party she had in there!
Meet Roxy: She is a sweet, affectionate little bundle of love, mostly black with some white socks and stripes. The striping on her face and her long ears reminded Shea of a Gremlin, but when you have four children you lose naming power. That is why she is a Roxy instead of a Gizmo. Not bad considering Becca (5) was campaigning for Black Racoon or “Blackoon” for short. She has a short little tail that hangs down and wags non stop and floppy ears that I want to put bows on. Can a goat be dainty? She is. She probably weighed about 6 pounds when she arrived and popped right up on her little feet and started checking things out.
Meet Dusty: Son of Dustbunny, they arrived at that name pretty quick. He is the exact opposite of Roxy. I would guess he weighed 8 pounds at birth. He is almost completely white, with a smear of light tan at the top that makes me think he is always dirty. He has a longer tail that is forever curled up and little nubby ears. His dad must have been a La Mancha. Where Roxy is a compact little petite, he is long and lanky. It took him nearly 20 minutes to get up on his legs. They were so long it was as if he couldn’t coordinate every bit of them at the same time. He still trips on them occasionally. He had me at hello because he looks like one of my kids, er, children…long and lanky and so, so wobbly the first time they walked. For a clumsy little lurp, he is sure outgoing. He can’t ever get enough to eat, also like my own brood, and I decided that if he had ears, he would look like a bunny rabbit on stilts.
They came out with their own personalities and looks. When Shea came home from work, about 30 minutes after all the action, I held up Dusty and said “Look! He’s your son!” Dusty barely beat out Shea Jr. for the name. I called my folks and told them to come meet the grandgoats. I have shown the pictures off to more people than I did when I had my own babies. Maybe I enjoyed this birth more because it involved less of my own pain and sedation. Maybe it was more fun because I got to share it with my own children. Their enthusiasm as they bottle feed the babies has made all the set up and hassle well worth it.
Dusty and Roxy have lit up our backyard and it feels now like the party is really starting!