Baby Goats and Fake Shaman
Introducing Basil Maurice Eclipse and a link to "Fake Shaman: The Prelude."
Been busy in the foothills of western Maine. Thankfully the Polar Vortex’s sub-zero temps broke just in time for the arrival of the first kid born here at the Brigid Spring farmstead, glamping cabins and elopement headquarters.
Photo (above) of Basil Maurice Eclipse was taken three hours after his birth on Tuesday at 3:30 a.m. By the end of his first day here on Earth, he ditched the sweater, because he doesn’t need such frivolity. Basil was born with blue eyes and both of his parents have brown eyes, so that makes him extra special. Most important, he’s a healthy, happy and hoppy buckling. And his mother, Violet, has turned out to be a great nurturer and kind momma.
Basil, btw, wasn’t a planned breeding. Neither was Fern (below) supposed to be bred. However, she too is about to kid, so we moved her into a nursery pen last night.
We didn’t intend to breed our goats because to do it right, you gotta maintain a maximum security buck-yard, separated from the girls and wethers. Plus, we weren’t sure we were ready to take on the milking commitment. So when, five years ago, we brought Violet and her twin Oak (below) to the land (along with Fern and the dearly departed Juniper), their #1 job was to be cute. Secondarily, their task is to browse the abandoned pastures we’ve cleared, feeding on bramble, brush, poison ivy and other non-essentials to pave the way for pasture robust enough for an eventual dairy cow.
So last summer, we introduced two new boys to Brigid Spring to increase the landscaping squad. Unlike Oak, Hawthorn Partyboi and Spruce hadn’t been castrated. That task has been on the to-do list for awhile. But I’ve been busy. Long story short, in the fall, while in rut, the little boys (they are pretty damn short) convinced both Violet and Fern to copulate.
WHICH MEANS KIDS HAVING KIDS!
Needless to say, those boys are about to experience the discomfort of bands around their scrotum to prevent them from impregnating the does again. For a couple reasons: the ladies could get preggers as soon as a month after giving birth. And since goat gestation is about 150 days, any nextGen kids would be birthed at the height of a Maine summer. And that ain’t good, due to the heat and/or preponderance of warm-weather worms.
Also, by wethering these two boys, they can remain part of the herd and live in the same goat shack as the rest of ‘em. And if Fern kids a doeling, we wouldn’t want the boys (one of whom would be the baby’s father) knocking up a daughter.
Basil is named in honor of a childhood pal, who served as an altar boy with me at St. Matthew’s Church in Indian Orchard back in the mid-1970s. He was a kind and soft-spoken fella, with some vision and noggin’ issues, and one of the nicest guys you’d ever meet.
Not one of the nicest people you’ll ever meet, btw, is the subject of my new true crime podcast that comes out next month. Fake Shaman is the never-before-told story of a con-witch who moved to Ellsworth with dollar bills in her eyes and psychedelic mushrooms in her Coach bag. Also, the Fake Shaman called herself a doctor and targeted vulnerable women in Maine and beyond.
Please listen to the 13-minute prelude below to hear about the creepy sex magic ritual that took place in a barn in the York County town of Lyman last summer, which caused the implosion of the Fake Shaman’s fake-shamanic mentorship program. Also, if you’re not already, be sure to become a paid subscriber to The Crash Report for early access, bonus content and ad-free episodes of Fake Shaman.
If you appreciate how the Crash Report goes places other media won’t, please subscribe. For $7 monthly or $75 annually, you can support independent journalism in Maine.
Is there going to be a transcript of this series eventually?