I rush home every day to make bottles for this little white guy. He has a pitiful cry that cuts right through me and sends me into the kitchen to mix his warm milk. His sister figured out how to nurse from her mother, who rejected them at birth and wouldn't even let them try. I kept milking mom out to keep her flowing, and gave it to the kids in bottles. I think the doe kid figured out how to get her own from mom and kept pestering her
until she gave in. I don't mind mixing bottles. I'm so used to it now as Robert and Duvall just recently got off theirs, I'm embarrassed to say. Those boys see me coming with the goat bottles and want to nurse again. I foolishly gave one of them a taste and he bit the Pritchard's teat right off the bottle. Learned my lesson - let them stay weaned.
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