The Story of a Little Goat with a Black Coat and a White Spot

We're taking an elite crew of three goats with us when we move. Over the years we've stopped breeding goats because we realize we're not farmers. Real farmers don't say, "We can't get rid of the bottle babies. They're bottle babies." Or, "We can't split them apart. They're a family." Or, "We have to keep the littlest ones. They need us."

So we're taking three goats: Cupcake the bottle baby, Molly the runt, and our first goat ever, Molly's mother Baby Girl.

These photos from several years ago depict how Cupcake became a bottle baby.

Our dairy goat, Buttercup, had only thrown (or given birth to)
single kids with white coats.



Like Bluebonnet, who had been thrown the spring before.

The next spring Buttercup threw two kids, one with a white coat
and a smaller one with a black coat.

To Twinkie: "You may enter." To Cupcake: "Not so fast." 

Cupcake is busted!

We could keep the subterfuge up only for so long. Mike brought Cupcake into the house, where we bottle fed her for three weeks. Her hooves clickety-clacking on the wooden stairs earned her the nickname "Cupcake the Tap-Dancing Goat."

We call her Cupcake because of her black coat and the white spot in the middle of her belly: just where the cream filling of a Hostess Cupcake would be.

Today, she's a happy and healthy outdoor goat

but is a housegoat at heart.

Related Posts:

The Maricle of Birth Center

Lessons in Trust from Molly the Goat

Greatest Goat Photo of All Time

Smile, you're on Caprine Camera!

Lessons in trust from Molly the Goat

Since I no longer have a three-hour roundtrip commute, the farm animals who I rarely saw before have come to know me. I recently wrote about the Maricle of Birth Center, If you'll notice in the main photo, you'll see two newborn baby goats, or kids. But the mother, Baby Girl, still has a swollen belly. That's because she was carrying four kids. One and two kids are the norm, three happens occasionally, four is extremely rare. The two still inside her, the largest and the smallest of the four, were stillborn. The two newborns, who arrived shortly before a St. Patrick's Day, we named Fibber and Molly.
Molly won't win any prizes at the State Fair. When she was born, her jaw jutted out and her nose was pushed in, undoubtedly because of the cramped quarters inside her mother for the five-month gestation period. Molly was unable to nurse for the first few days, so my husband Mike and I fed her milk replacer from an eye dropper. While her brother Fibber was a hardy little billy, we gave Molly 50/50 odds of surviving. But survive she did, a small and skittish animal. As you can see by her horns, a fragile animal too. Her imperfections are what endeared her to us.
Molly was born four years ago. It was only this summer that she allowed me to pet her. When she sees me she no longer bolts, although her ears stand straight up to signal her caution. I hold out my index finger and slowly she comes forward, lowering her head so I can stroke the white rosette on her forehead. Sometimes she even lets me run my hand along her side. The act still makes me marvel.
Trust doesn't happen overnight. It takes time and patience. It doesn't matter if the relationship is with another person or a barnyard animal. One of the things I value most is when someone tells me, with words or without, "I trust you." It's what I strive for in all of my relationships.

The Maricle of Birth Center

Minnesotans love the State Fair. Some go for the food, others like the rides, others head for the Fine Arts Building. For many people, the fair is all about the animals. Each generation gets further away from having rural roots. At one time, it was unusual not to have grandparents who lived on a farm. That meant everyone was able to experience the birth of a calf, a foal, or baby goats. That's what makes the CHS Miracle of Birth Center at the State Fair a delight for young and not-so-young alike.

Inside the barn at the Maricle farm, we've been privileged to witness several births. These photos are from several years ago. Consider them your private showing of the Maricle of Birth Center. No crowds, no waiting!