Anyone who has been around goats knows that they have hilarious personalities. At one time or another we probably had a herd of well over two dozen and they each had something about them that we could find amusing; however, there was one that we had that really stood out. Her name was Dolly and she was a goat in her own right . . . an individual.
Dolly was a cute little purebred Nubian that we bought from some friends of mine when they were moving back to join the segment of our population we referred to as city dwellers. Since she was two years old, she should already have had at least one kid; however, our friends had kept her as a pet and only had a buck visit occasionally when their other doe went into heat so they just figured it was the wrong time for Dolly. We were soon to learn that it was always the wrong time for her!
We had two bucks at the time we acquired Dolly. Zambi was still fairly young and although he thought he was quite the stud, time showed that he was not quite up to the task of breeding yet. Now Fred was an entirely different matter. You could tell just from looking at him that he had what it took. Not only did he strut his stuff he did all of the "cute" little buck things that he was supposed to; He literally reeked of his abilities to impregnate the shyest of our does. Until he met Dolly.
First she was put into a pen with our other non-pregnant does and all hell broke loose. She immediately began making the same moves that Fred so proudly strutted . . . curling lip, come-on bleat, and the pawing at the doe's side that almost appears to be saying, "Ah, come on, let me show you what a real buck can do." The only problem with the entire scenario was that Dolly was not a buck and the does were right down insulted!
So it looked like the wisest move was to put her in with the bucks and let Fred show her what a real buck really could do. Dolly was having no part of it. As Fred chased her around the pen (Zambi, his tongue hanging out, hot on his heels), she ran in circles bleating at the top of her lungs. You would have thought that we had staked her out to be gang raped or something with her behavior.Fred was not one to take no for an answer . . . I am sure us women, have all met a few of those kind of men in our lives. He tried jumping on her . . . she ran, he tried coaxing her . . . she ran and it went on, and on, and on. Nope, Dolly wanted no suave words, nor show of "male dominance" . . . she wanted back in with the does, where her lust knew no bounds.
We ended up putting her in her own pen until we were sure that she was in estrus and then we tried the natural route with her again . . . same results. Therefore, we were forced to do it the unnatural way (and it was the only time this was ever required in our years of goat raising), we put her in the stanchion and let Fred have his way with her. It was really kind of interesting because though she was at his mercy, he still went through the rituals of convincing her that she was in for the lovin' of her life (as she screamed in his face) before he mounted her. The routine was repeated for several days to make sure they were "sexual" on the really fertile day and then we let her back into the pen to torture the other does and those other does were very unhappy with us.
Did it take? Nope. Dolly was apparently anatomically a female but her true love was not for the male of her species but the other females. Being in the goat business, we usually ate our unproductive goats; however, she escaped that fate due to our own squeamishness over eating, what we considered, a freak of nature. We sold her at an auction and I have always wondered if she found her own little herd of does to "play" with.