Fluffy And His Five Mothers

It's quiet around Rainbow Gate Farm right now. So, instead of boring you with the details of uneventful chores, I'm drawing on my FanStory.com archives and digging out stories I wrote earlier this year. Reminds me I'm likely to be digging myself out of snow drifts here in a few months, but meanwhile. . .

                        "Fluffy And His Five Mothers"

. . . Fluffy came into this world on the heels of his dead brother. Not an amazing way to start life, but he didn't care. Within minutes of being born, he struggled to his feet, and started searching for warm milk.




He soon found a soft udder and began to nurse. His mother bleated and nudged him, but Fluffy kept right on drinking . . . on Hershey, the wrong doe.



Some of our goats could care less when their kids are taken away, but others have strong maternal instincts. Taking their babies away is the least favorite part of my job description.



Those does often decide to adopt another doe's baby. I've even seen them knock the real mother out of the way as soon as the kid hits the ground, so they can take over the newborn's care.



Usually, our baby goats are raised in a heated trailer nearby, where they have access to automatic feeders providing warm milk-replacer around the clock and they quickly adopt us as their two-legged mothers. Right now, Fluffy happens to be the only one we have. The other seven hundred should be arriving any day.



I decided that rather than heating the entire trailer for just one kid, I'd let Fluffy stay with his mother, er, mothers, in the fresh goat pen.


There are five does in there who claim him as their own. Fluffy thinks life is wonderful. More milk than he could possibly drink and five warm bodies to snuggle against.



My eight-year-old daughter, Amber, christened him 'Fluffy' and although his lot should have been heading down the road to the meat market at the tender age of five months, it seems fate has intervened once more. Between Amber and his five devoted mothers, I don't have a snowball's chance in you-know-where of sending him away.



Fluffy will have to endure being castrated in a few months time. Male goats left 'entire' for breeding are one of the most terrible smelling creatures on earth.



At this rate, I may have to quit milking goats and start a sanctuary.