Even before the Katahdins I owned Navajo Angora goats. I had hopes when I first moved that I would have the time to return to spinning and weaving, so owning my own fiber goats was the first step.
Best laid plans and all that . . . I never did find the time to spare for processing fleeces, much less spinning the mohair so last fall I decided to sell off all the Angoras. The colored Angoras sold quickly but I still had four Angoras going into the winter – two wethers and two young does. The oldest wether had been incompletely castrated and was starting to act “bucky” so I was happy to give him away to an acquaintance who just needed a companion for another goat and a weed eater. I didn’t think he was fertile and as the winter progressed neither doe looked or acted pregnant so I continued to feed as usual. I certainly didn’t worry about shearing underneath to make it easy for kids to locate teats.
When I went out last evening to feed I did my customary visual check in the pens to make sure everyone looked healthy and uninjured. At first glance I wondered how one of the lambs had made its way into the goat pen and why the “lamb” was so small. Then the ears registered and I realized I was looking at a goat kid.