Latest update on Mary, who was last reported to be spending some time back at her breeder's ranch with Bob the Stud Goat, after a vet's scan determined she wasn't yet pregnant. Evidently, Bob's goof-ball romantic goat antics fell on deaf ears as Mary would have nothing to do with him. Natha. She seemed to relish prancing and teasing, but wouldn't have anything to do with Bob that might have resulted in her pregnancy. Sooooo, a different goat stud was selected for her approval, and this time, instead of Mary visiting him, Joe the New Goat Stud has been invited for conjugal visits with Mary here at Morning Song. And just for the record, does he stink. Male goats are just a whole different deal. They reek, they slobber, they druel. I read recently that goats have, throughout history, been at the bottom of the Livestock Wish List (cattle being at the top). After getting within nose shot of a male in rut, I can completely understand my ancestors' thoughts, which up until now I had thought had been well, misinformed. As in, if you had a herd of my Nigerian, sweet-scented goats, you wouldn't think they belonged at the bottom of your Wish list. I was right, except that you can't keep a dairy herd going forward without a breeding program, not historically and now today; and that certainly requires a member of the male, reeking species. Mary is enjoying showing Joe around; although we fence them in at night; the goats have run of the farm during the day. They chew through the groves, chase each other up and down the hills, and get themselves tangled in anything that can possibly cause a tangle. This morning I tried to put up an electrified temporary fence to keep them off my front porch, and Gracie immediately got tangled up in the fence and tipped in over. I really hate having them at the front porch. First of all, they are not like llamas in that they don't have a "special spot" they go to to relieve themselves. It's everywhere. And secondly, 20 times a time one of them checks to see if the front door is locked. If not, in they come, the goat version of a home invasion. For some reason they enjoy attacking Lance's work boots, always dragging them somewhere and leaving tell-tale nibbles. They also like heading straight for my teenaged son's bedroom; where lots of delicious paper (homework) is known to reside. Nibbles, the herd leader, likes to dominate from my son's bed; dragging a clump of munchible homework with her, and then daring any other goat to try to knock her off her perch. Finally, in case it isn't clear that they have invited themselves in, at least one of the herd uses the livingroom as a latrine. These antics are not met with familial affection. Son, Frankie has googled "goat meat recipes" and forwarded the results to me. Lance keeps asking, "and why do we have goats?"