For Sale, Sale Pending, Sold.

What a week this last one has been... I used to shake my head at the saying, "Money makes the world go 'round", but since these past few days I'm feeling more apt to nod my head in reluctant agreement. Little Shilling, my spotted Nubian doeling is finally at her new home. I've been waiting to re-home her for almost two months now!

Shilling. Summer of 2011.

 I have to admit that I'm glad she's gone. I was beginning to resent her presence, which is a new feeling in regards to my own goats. She was such a beautiful girl... Lovely topline, nice rear leg angulation and brisket extension, good ear length and she was spotted to boot! But her mouth wasn't figured right, and it drove me crazy. I was so close to having a nice replacement goat for some of the ones I lost this year, but that underbite washed my hopes and dreams down the drain. You see, it wasn't just that SHE had an underbite. Both of her parents did too. Which means that Shilling will more than likely throw kids who will have underbites. So it wasn't worth my keeping a doe whom I couldn't show, and whom I couldn't keep or sell kids from. It was more than just her mouth however, that made me not like her. Every time I looked at her, all I could see was her dead mother, father, and brother. All her family was dead, and that without remedy. Looking at her was looking at failure and regrets. The poor thing had no inkling of all this, and I tried to treat her nicely, just like any animal. But I didn't love her. And never could. 'Tis true, 'tis pity, and pity 'tis, 'tis true!

My only choices of dealing with her were to either slaughter her, send her to the auction where no one would no where she came from, or give her away for free to someone so that my herd name is not attached to her. I opted for the last. She is now an unregistered, nameless nobody of a goat. She bears not my title of 'Goat Song', and never will. But she is in a place where she is being loved beyond belief. Her new owners know why I couldn't keep her, why her mouth keeps her from being a fancy show goat, but they don't care. She's a pet now. Her spots and endearing face stripes are her glory, and she thrives on the attention. Silly ol' Shil... That's what I would call her: "Shil", and nothing more. I'd poke my head out from the barn and holler, "Hey Shil! Come here!" and she would come running as fast as her short legs could carry her. Silly Shilly... 'Tis True, 'tis pity, and pity 'tis, 'tis true!

 What with the departure of Shilling, an unexpected opportunity arose. A friend of mine told me of a nice buck for sale up in WA. for the steal of a price of only $100. It was a liquidation sale, I later found out, and oh goodness me... That buck... I wanted him so horribly bad.

 He went by the handle of Seattle, but that wasn't what caught my attention. It was his pedigree. He was of 'Copper-Hill' bloodlines, which I happen to really like, and his sire was my all time favorite buck, 'Copper-Hill Breakaway's Sonset.

Breakaway Sonset. Picture courtesy of Remuda-Nubians in WA.

Now, I realize that to you non-goaty people, he may look like a rather ugly fella'. But to us hardcore Nubian breeders, this is beauty in flesh. I drool just looking at this guy. He may not look like anything special, but his daughters are breathtaking. Absolutely breathtaking.

 So there I was: salivating on my laptop's keyboard over a male goat named Seattle. Oh dearie me... Having that guy would have jumped my breeding plans ahead by two or three years. Just thinking of the kids from a cross with him and Ivy was enough to make me run and get a towel in case of yet another need to wipe the keyboard dry. I jumped into action and after a flurry of e-mails I had transportation worked out, Seattle was going to have a blood test done for CAE today (I always take precautions and test new goats), and if all went according to the plan, he very well could have been in my barn by Saturday.

 And then fate reared its ugly head. Someone flashed some cash and bought him right beneath my nose, on Sunday afternoon.

 Seattle is gone now. So are my hopes. I feel a little deflated. One moment I was beaming from ear to ear at the thought of finally having my own herdsire (I've been hunting for three years now!), and the next moment I stared at the computer screen that had words that said, "Sorry, he sold today." 

Ouch. Money makes the world go 'round. Whoever holds up a dollar bill first wins the game. Or in this case, the stud. Phooey.

My barn seems so quiet today. Only five goats are in there. Only five. But I suppose five is better than four, so I'll quit grouching now, and be content. :)

Goats... Where would we be without those creatures? ;)