It's a goat's life

Farm living can be oh so educational. You never really have a lot of questions about the birds and the bees when you get to witness it all first hand. I have always attempted the "progressive" route when teaching my kids about sex. We are pretty open about it and even now that they are teenagers, it occasionally comes up and it is a relief that we can speak freely. 

A few days ago, our friendly little buck, Mo, got to go on a trip. A friend of ours asked to borrow him to service his herd of does. I've always hated that term, service. It just seems so cold and impersonal but, to date, I haven't been able to insert another word that is appropriate. 

Mo has his two girls here on the farm. I don't know what the ratio of bucks to does is or can be...but I am certain that two does to one buck is not nearly enough. This may be one of the reasons why he is so darn cantankerous. Anyway, the farm he went to has around 20 does, ready for breeding. I worried that I may have made such a pet out of him that he may just freak out and want to come home and not be able to do his, eh hem...duties. All my worries were laid to rest this morning when I got to talk to Mark, the guy who borrowed him. He told me that Mo is as happy as a lark. He hadn't been there ten minutes and was already getting down to business. The picture in my head is that of my sweet old buck skipping through the meadows in slow motion, a grin on his face, eyes shaped like hearts and harps playing in the background. Sort of like Peppi le Pew. My husband asks me frequently "do you live in a fricken fairy land?". 

I'm sure he will be exhausted when he returns, bless his heart. When we were watching him leave, the kids and I stood on the porch and waved. Kyle said, "have fun." I think it is safe to say that I've done my duty as mom to keep the whole sex thing pretty light and sunny.