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Rocky's Nuts

I'm still on a high over my recent discovery of a pecan tree, hiding in plain sight, in my yard.  I wish I would have known about its parentage a bit sooner, though, because it may have changed the master plan of our homestead.

Two summers ago we finished our newly expanded buck-and-doe yard, which now lies just beneath the pecan tree.  All the nuts fall now fall into the goat yard, the majority falling into Rocky's yard.

Pecans are harvested in the late fall.  Breeding season for goats  is in the late fall.  Bucks become crazy, neurotic, pee-encrusted, wild-eyed, stinking-to-high-heaven creatures during breeding season.  It's called going into rut.

Rocky is, generally, a sweet-natured little guy.  Friendly.  Likes to be petted (although he always stinks).  Will walk nicely on a leash and stands patiently for hoof-trims.

Except when he goes into rut.  He then becomes a devil in shaggy black fur.

But all the good pecans were on the ground in his yard.  So Kaylin and I dutifully went inside to collect them.  She, I must add, was extremely unsure of entering but I encouraged her and she decided the little brown nuts were worth it.      

Rocky danced around, flapping his tongue and grunting riotously when we entered the gate, but after a bit he seemed to pay more attention to his girls on the other side of the fence.  So we got to work.
Apparently, bending over looks an awful lot like an invitation to a buck during mating season.  And vigorous head-butting is perfectly acceptable caprine mating behavior.  I looked up just in time to see Rocky hurtling himself, pee-covered head first, directly at me.

I jumped up and scolded him, something that would have sent him away bug-eyed just a month earlier.  But he had lost all control of himself.  He screeched back and lowered his head again, this time grazing off my thigh.  He grunted and began dancing around again, and I could see that wild look in his eyes.

Kaylin was gone.  All I saw was the back of her climbing over the five-foot fence.  She was hollering, so naturally I had to act like an aggressive buck wasn't anything to be frightened of.  He was still our sweet little Rocky, after all.  She didn't look convinced.

I continued trying to pick the pecans,, keeping a watchful eye on Rocky and taking elusive action whenever he advanced.  After his fifth attempt, I wasn't sure if he was trying to mount me or actually trying to kill me.  Either way, it was unsettling (understatement).  I high-tailed it out of there.

But all the good nuts are still in there!

I need a day or so to come up with a plan that doesn't involve me selling myself to a buck in order to get a bucketful of pecans.

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