I’ll never forget my first buck. Several months after bringing home Hope and Uno, our first two Nigerian Dwarves, I decided that Hope was indeed not pregnant from the buck in her previous home, and I would need to find a new buck to join our little duo.
Browsing craigslist rewarded me with an ad for a handsome little black and white buck. The blurb assured that he was a proven breeder, gentle to handle, and even better – he was just fifty dollars. The fact that he was my favorite color sold me, and I excitedly showed my husband, who merely looked resigned at the idea of putting even more goats in the backseat of our car.
I had read that bucks in rut would quite smelly, but I neglected to mention such a thing to my dear husband. The seller told me that the buck was in rut and ready to breed, and as we pulled into the parking lot of Petco forty minutes from home, we had no clue what we had signed up for. Truthfully, what I had signed us up for.
The seller cheerfully accepted my wrinkled fifty dollar bill and pulled “Buckly” out of her truck by one horn. He looked placidly up at me, his face crusted with yellow stains, and snorted. As my husband came around the car, he stopped dead in horror at the sight of the filthy creature he was expected to lift into the back of our Chevy Malibu.
Thank goodness we had leather seats.
The buck was unceremoniously shoved through the rear passenger side door, hooves flying as he scrambled in confusion. My husband recoiled in disgust as Buckly turned around and tried to get back out. Instead the goat had the door slammed in his face, and my husband backed away, rubbing his hands on his shorts, obviously rethinking his life choices. I hurriedly thanked the seller, and we left.
To the husband’s credit, he did not start complaining until we were once more seated within the car. Both of us looked back at Buckly, who was now standing on the backseat peering curiously out the window. His horns impressively curled around his head, he had a thick long beard, and I was personally very pleased with our purchase.
My husband? Not so much.
“He reeks! I’ve never smelled anything so bad. Is he sick?”
No, no, I assured him. Bucks in rut urinate on themselves and exude a strong musk. It’s normal!
“You knew he would smell so bad?”
I’ll never forget the exasperated look I received, and we drove home in relative silence. Buckly occasionally turned to snuffle at the sides of our heads, which made my eyes water in the most unpleasant way. My husband cracked all the windows, and finally arriving home was an immense relief.
I cheerfully popped Buckly into a small pen where he could see his new friends, Hope and Uno, but not reach them just yet. I left them to get introduced, and returned the next morning to find Hope in heat, Buckly eager to escape his pen, and Uno disgusted with the entire situation.
Five months later we had the first kids born here at K-N-S Farm.