We are the proud parents of a bouncing baby kid, who is now five days old and very cute. He has the most adorable yellowish brown eyes and we have named him Billy. He is of mixed decent: his mother was Nubian (though not nubile at all) and his father was a hefty Boer. He is tricolored, with a white stripe down his left ankle. (Do kids have ankles?)
If you have not caught on, I’m talking about a baby goat.
He came to us on Monday because his mother orphaned him. She didn’t have any milk and couldn’t feed him, and by the time the owners of the farm arrived he was starving and weak. The Darlings*, who live at the farm, are dear friends. They know and love my daughter Turtle dearly and knew she would enjoy having a kid brother around. They are the dear souls who wrangled and took on the care of our first bratty bunch of kids who came to us wild as the wind.
A mere two weeks after getting dropped off at our ranch, those kids decided this was not the life for them, and wandered a mile away to live on the animal refuge. I had no idea they could walk so far on such short little legs. Geez, shows how much I knew about goats, even baby goats.
Okay, they were over six months old, but they still had short little legs.
Anyway, so yes, we have this adorable goat named Billy the kid, and I don’t think he has any intention of running off to live among the buffalo and the elk. He is perfectly content right here, where he sleeps by the heating vent, gets three round bottles a day and all the loving you could imagine.
He thinks he is one of us. I know I should not be surprised. After lifelong work in animal care I am well informed about imprinting, and all that comes with having a warm soft place to land when your mother kicks you to the curb. But he was supposed to be for Turtle. He was supposed to be her kid. But nope, I am the pied piper and they are my mice. Picture it, I’m walking along, doing my thing, and behind me is Turtle, then the kid, then the dog. I have to shake my head. The dog was supposed to be for Turtle, but she has adopted me and follows me everywhere — now, the kid. Must be my perfume. Pheromone-cologne.
As I sat feeding Billy the kid his last bottle of the day, I was reminded of my old friend, Pig. See, Pig was a piglet that one of my friends found wandering out on Interstate 29, so of course she picked him up and took him home. She named him Bacon (she was also very resourceful). I didn’t like that name — not that I eat pork, named and tamed or not.
Well, having a baby pig was very intriguing to me. I’d never known any baby pigs. At the time I was running a pet sitting service, so when she had to go out of town for a month she asked if I would come and watch her dogs, and her pig. I gladly said yes. That pig was so darn adorable, and so sweet, I couldn’t help but pick it up. And talk to it, and, well, play with it. I fulfilled my duties and when the month was up, I went about my life. About two days later, my friend’s sister called me up (they shared the land and both had houses on it.)
“Mary, what have you done with this pig?” I panicked. When I had left he was perfectly fine. I pictured some kind of dog/pig conflict and bloody gory messes.
“Um, what do you mean? What happened?” I asked.
“When we left a month ago, that pig barely paid us any mind.. now the damn thing won’t leave us alone. It wants to come in the house and follows us all over when we are outside. That pig thinks he’s a dog. What did you do to it?”
I snorted a relieved laugh. “Nothing, I just took care of it, like I was asked to do.”
“Well, you went above and beyond your call of duty if you ask me,” she said with slight sarcasm.
She hung up the phone and I thought, “Wow, I’m a pig whisperer. I’ll have to add that to my list of can do’s. “
Life got busy and I didn’t see my friend for awhile. When I finally did, I asked her how Pig was. She said, “His name is Bacon for a reason, and I wouldn’t ask if I were you.”
I tried to rescue that pig from his original rescuee, but I couldn’t have a pig at my rented house and I couldn’t find anyone who wanted to take an unintentionally trained pig in for laughs, for education, for the hell of it. So I got no more updates on Pig. But he has always been in my heart.
As I thought of Pig tonight, I also remembered that when Mighigna and I were first hanging out, he said, “I’d like to come to your house.” I looked at him with the oddest look on my face. “Um, Why? ” “Because I bet you walk out your door and birds and bunnies and deer come up to you to eat out of your hand and greet you good morning.”
I laughed at the absurdity of it, but now I’m starting to wonder.
*Human names have been changed to respect privacy
Photo Credit
“Baby Pig” meddygarnett @ flickr.com. Creative Commons. Some Rights Reserved.
Wonderful story, and how blessed you are to have had such experiences! I never met a pig, But I watched a neighbor’s piglets play together many years ago, and they romped just like little puppies. I have met a baby goat or two, and they are as personable as puppies and kittens. My best to you and all your endeavors, and keep up the great work!
i know about pigs. cute story.
Thanks Mary…this is the uplifting story that puts a smile on our faces…I bet turtle will come into her own and be as in tune with animals as her mother…Cute Story…thanks!
P.S. need pictures of the “kids”…lol
Thanks Margaret!
Mary, I loved this! Thanks so much for sharing this story. Pheromone cologne!!! I can also picture you at the door feeding all the woodland creatures…
Margaret