When we first took Willow in and I started bottle feeding her, I became the closest thing she had to a mother. I took that responsibility seriously and did the best I could to give her the care she needed to recover and thrive, but couldn't help but be very aware of the fact that I wasn't a goat. I wouldn't be able to teach her how to forage, show her what to eat and the right time to eat it, or teach by example, the plants to avoid eating at all costs. I wouldn't be able to nurse her and know instinctively when she'd had enough. I wouldn't be able to support her while she learned the ins and outs of the social hierarchy of our goat herd. I wouldn't be able to assure she'd ever be accepted by them. These are all things that a dam or mother goat will do for her young, and I wished I could somehow do for Willow. While wishing didn't turn me into a goat, it did seem to turn a certain goat of ours into a mother. To our amazement, Bridget has taken over that role for Willow and watching their relationship evolve over this past month has touched us deeply. I realized, while talking about it with Scrapple's Dad last week, that we hadn't shared much of their story with you. Actually - I haven't shared much at all (postcards don't count) in the past weeks! A good long update has been way overdue. This seemed like a good place to start.
