The online research eventually led to YouTube
and videos of fainting goats. Pure hilarity. I think I
would’ve wanted them for the entertainment alone, but
they are also smaller than milk goats, seldom challenge
fences, and are independent mothers. Weeks later, we
purchased “Pan” and “Pittipat”. I mistakenly called
them a billy goat and a nanny, but that nomenclature
seems to have
changed to buck
and doe. Long
story shortened,
we didn’t even
know what they
were called, but
we began raising
fainting goats.
Our
learning curve
was steep.
Pittipat had
a vaginal
prolapse. We
sprinkled
sugar on her
and pushed it
back in. She
had twins during Super Bowl ‘13, “Raven” and
“Mr. Tumniss”. Such unmitigated joy – they
climbed steps, played king of the concrete block
and twisted and skittered and danced into our
hearts. Children visited and cuddled the babes,
dressed them in sweaters and bonnets. We learned
about goat lice, that they are species specific, and
we learned the power of lice powder. We learned
about disbudding and castrating and that adult
bucks stink and are rude.
Mostly, we learned about fun. Fainting
goats are never boring. Also known as “Tennessee
Fainters”, “ Myotonic Goats” or “Stiff-legged
Goats”, they have a congenital condition that causes
them to become paralyzed when startled. Their
legs stiffen and they fall over. They don’t lose
consciousness and don’t seem to be in any pain and
it’s all over in about ten seconds. Once Pittipat
fainted on the bridge across our creek and rolled
into the wate ȸ