The end of winter is drawing near and soon the warm coats will shed. I am going to try to save as much of the hair as I can. Last spring, their coats had burrs and berry stains; this season I did my best to keep them as clean as possible. I am hoping to find someone who will want to use it.
Time to trim hooves. I am dreading that. I don't relish the idea of messing with strong, horned goats who think they are the boss of all that is around them. This job will take at least two strong adults.
I had a realization this morning while feeding the goats... They have finally gotten used to me. I can pet them now. 
The process seemed so slow coming that I hardly noticed.
Acorn, the all-brown wether, still the most skittish and wary of people, will even let me pet him if I approach him very slowly. I read somewhere (or perhaps someone who commented on my blog) that goats won't let you pet them on their head. Whenever I've tried to pet them, I've always reached toward their heads. All of my previous goats had no problem with anyone touching their heads - so it was something that I didn't even think about with these guys. They will stand beside me when I go in their yard, hoping for a cracker treat.
As long as I don't make any sudden moves, they will approach me and hang out if they've nothing better to do. When they stood beside me - I reached out and petted Turnip's back (I was in his peripheral view). He didn't run or jump or anything.
He stood there seeming to enjoy it. He let me pet him for a long time - until I was the one who'd had enough. Then I tried it with Apple - and had success again with her. This was the way to do it! Acorn still is unsure of being touched by anyone; however I can pet him if I have him on a leash. I have to put him on a leash when I walk them over to the pasture. The other two are fine to walk over there; Acorn will go where he pleases, and it can become difficult to get him inside the fence. I have to bribe him to come near me using a cracker (they love the Wasa Light Rye crackers) or some grain. When he's devouring the treat, I can take hold of his collar and put a leash on him. This way we have an incident-free walk across the street. Anyway when he's on the leash I am able to pet him - only because I can gently keep him from fleeing. Both Apple and Turnip love being petted, with Turnip being by far the biggest sweetie and affection-lover of the bunch. He's like a big baby. So I'm happy with where we are in our relationship. It's good.
They're no longer babies. Acorn and Apple (the two in front) have shed their thick choppy winter coat. Didn't even notice Apple's coming out, but Acorn's shedding was dramatic. I thought he was sick with ringworm or lice, or lack of minerals. I just never noticed any of my goats losing their hair - so it took me aback at first. I helped remove it by combing him while he ate his grain. 
Here is a ball of hair after one combing. Now that he is pretty much done shedding, he looks sleek and healthy, and considerably smaller than he had before.
Apple, our only doe, is at the bottom of the totem pole in our little herd. At the top of the pile is Acorn, Apple's brother. Then comes Turnip, the outsider. Apple, she's a curious sweetie pie. I can tell that she wants to be friends with me. Many times when I appear in her yard, she cautiously approaches, sticking out her nose toward me to try to determine if I am going to be her friend or foe. When she decides that I am not going to attack her, she begins to lean toward me. I see a twinkling of acceptance and perhaps affection in her gaze. At last, a breakthrough. She will finally accept me into her circle, and allow me to pet her as our handshake of friendship. My hand is just inches from her muzzle, just about to finally pet my little furry buddy. And that's when Acorn notices how close I have gotten to his sister, and he sneezes his cry of retreat. Off Apple runs, trailing behind her two herdmates to the safety of the 20 feet of distance between us. Our magic moment - gone. Our connection - lost. I'll try again tomorrow.
Well, it was especially difficult for me to catch them myself, so I had to enlist my sons to help out. Each one of the goat kids put up a really fierce fight. They yelled as if they were being butchered and none were interested at all in drinking the milk. I was surprised at how much they protested to being held while I tried to feed them. But I figured that their reaction would subside with each feeding. I tried feeding the bottles again that evening and I encountered the same response from the goat kids. No interest in drinking the milk. The next morning - the same as the previous day. Now I was getting concerned that this might be a persistent problem. They didn't want to come anywhere near me. If I walked toward them at all, they'd take off, obviously scared out of their minds. After that day, I decided that in the interest of ever being able to touch them, that I'd stop catching them to try to feed them. Luckily, they were going to town on the grain and hay that was being offered. They seemed to be doing fine health-wise. Eating well, looking well, no runny poops, vigorous. I was going to just take it day by day; see how things unfolded. They were still very scared of me. I decided that if I hand-fed them their grain that eventually they'd lose their fear of me, and look to me as their food provider and perhaps, their mother. That's what had happened with every one of my previous goats.
I fed them each of their meals this way (for a few days), but eventually gave up my hopes of being friends with them. They still behaved the same way every single time I fed them. I began to let them eat out of bowls. My next brilliant idea was to offer them treats between meals. I was elated when I was able to touch them with one finger for a second or two while they scarfed down their in-between-meal snacks. Finally now, sometimes I can pet them while they eat their grain. But not for long, eventually one of them realizes that they are being accosted, then runs, and the others follow suit. Slowly they return to continue their meal. I reach to try to pet again, and before I can get my whole hand on one of them, off they run again. Sometimes as I walk through their yard to bring more hay, before I can even get within 15 feet of their general vicinity, they'll scamper off - and it looks as though it has become a game for them to run away from me. They do that cute sideways run that goats do when they are really happy and being playful. I don't know, maybe that's simply their happy "it's fresh hay" dance.
