The Capricious Caprine - A Fable

On a rocky hillside not far from here, with verdant patches separated by craggy outcroppings, there lived a herd of goats happily feasting on the growth of the land. Though Young Buck was no longer a kid, he still loved to play, and was particularly interested in being at the top of any hill, stump or outcropping.

“I’m the strongest, I’m the fastest, I’m the King of the hill!” He would gleefully proclaim.

His kid brother, Little Billy, looked up to Young Buck and tried to emulate him. In fact, Little Billy tried to claim so many hills, that the herd leaders had trouble keeping an eye on him. “Hey, Little Billy!" called Old Joe. "Not so far from the herd! Take a little wisdom from your elders. Play may be fun, yet you must take care! There are lions and ogres; you must keep aware!”

“Oh, old Joe’s a fuddy duddy,” Young Buck told Billy, with a laugh. “He's just chewing his cud! Lions! Ogre’s! Hm, hm! He’s the ogre! He’s so old, he’s forgotten what it was like to kick up your heels, and leap through the air as though you are flying.”

“Yeah! He doesn’t know what it’s like to be the strongest, the fastest, the king of the hill!” joined in Billy, a little too loudly, perhaps, because his brother’s high attitude lost a bit of altitude.

“Hush! He’ll hear you!”

One day Billy and Buck got into one of their games climbing higher and higher on the hill. As they capered and flipped, they neglected to notice that the herd was moving away to a greener pasture. They also failed to see the mountain lion watching from among some nearby rocks. Billy, though much smaller than his brother, was giving Buck more challenge than usual. “I’m the strongest! Ooph! I’m the best! Umph! I'm the --hooomf – king of the Hill! Huhn!!” What joy, what fun, what a great way to celebrate the gift of life! Bang! This was the life, they thought, as they both reeled with the force of their huge head-on collision!

That was when the lion took his chance and leaped onto Buck’s back! Little Billy startled and ran down the hill for the herd, but they were no where in sight! Young Buck struggled to fight as he fled, but he felt his oppressor heavy on his back, and the claws ripped deeper into his skin.

Just as Buck was about to give in to his awful fate, from behind the tree bounded Old Joe, crashing into the pair. Thus began a great battle of rippling muscles, claws and teeth against hoofs and horns. Old Joe flew again and again at the lion, who scratched menacingly at the great goat while trying to avoid Joe’s forceful blows. Billy and Buck looked on as their leader fought alone, until the lion and the goat grappled, rose on their hind legs, the lion with his powerful arms around the goat’s shoulders, the goat pushing his horns into the lion’s face. “He’s going to lose!” moaned the injured Buck. At that moment, like a lightening charged rocket, Little Billy launched himself head down into the fray, knocking the lion’s hip and tumbling him over. Now the old goat and the young stood shoulder to shoulder facing their vicious enemy, and as Buck limped up beside the two, the lion made his decision to cut his loss, turned tail, and retreated over the hill.

As the three limped to rejoin the herd, Billy was elated! “Did you see how Old Joe flew out of the wood!? And me! I knocked that lion over! We really are the strongest and fastest, kings of the hill!”

Young Buck was not so happy. “I’m no king! If it weren’t for you two, I’d be lion’s meat by now. I see now that strength and speed are no substitute for watchfulness and wisdom.”

DaddyGoat December 23, 2008
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Small steps to success...

We held our third official Pack Goat Project meeting the other day, and I found myself pleased. We learned from past meetings two important points: 1) start with the activity, and 2) don't try to cram too much into one meeting.

The half-dozen youth, ranging in age from 10 to 14, enthusiastically suited up (boots are required in this area!) and (with one exception) efficiently got their goats on a lead, and met in the exercise paddock. We discussed what commands we are teaching our budding pack goats. Loading and unloading: "Up", "Down". Stopping and starting: "Stop", "Halt" , "Whoa!" or "Wait", "Let's go!" or "Come on!". Though we are not consistent across the group, all agreed the importance of being consistent when training your particular friend, so you develop and understanding of communication. Then we practiced with our individual goats.

It made me smile to watch six youth leading and stopping six kids in six different directions around the paddock. Some had clearly been working with their goats since the last meeting. Some were having trouble. But all seemed to be having fun.

"Ok!" I called. "Let's try an experiment." They gathered around me. "You are all working individually to get your goat to go or stop on command, to follow your lead. You are doing it in a field where several others are stopping and going in different directions. This is not usual for goats. Goats usually travel in a herd. So let's simulate a herd."

We all gave the go command, and they followed me around the paddock and onto the unfinished trail that partially encircles the ranch. No goats balked. Everyone followed. We came near the end of the trail, I called to stop, heard all the different commands being given. "Halt", "Stop", "Ho!", "Wait!"... "OW!" ... "Ow?" "Nothing, it's fine, I'm fine, we're fine." Lo and behold: all goats stopped with their handlers.

So, what do we learn from this? That we can achieve more by working together? That observing your animal's natural tendency helps in training? Came the answer from the crowd in the darkening twilight: "That hiking together as a group is a lot more fun than stopping and starting around the paddock!"

From the mouths of babes. ;-)

Hay, hay, hay!!!

After two years of raising goats for fun and to use up all that extra cash we don't have, my life partner finally decided to clean out the '95 corolla, and now what do we use to transport the hay to the 4-H ranch? Renting a truck or van adds quite a premium to the few bales we can get for our goats, and I think some of our friends think we are friends only to borrow their truck every few weeks. Plus, my mostly-sedentary lifestyle doesn't keep me fit enough to keep from hurting myself throwing those bales around. I would just order it, but they want you to order 60 bales at a time, and we aren't allotted that much space at the ranch.

In the community ranch where the goats live, there must be others who have this problem. We all have city jobs, and though some have SUVs and minivans, I have seen several family sedans with strange loads heading into the barns... I need to take the billy by the horns, reach out, and form a cooperative hay delivery plan! What do I have to lose?

Well, plenty, actually. I could be ridiculed, rebuffed, reminded that I'm not so great as I like to think when I'm not looking in the mirror. I might order and pay for hay, and have to return a bunch of it because it has gone bad. (That's happened already!) I may even find that even with a large number of ranch renters on my side, the city won't let me pile that much hay in the barn. I already know that with the construction going on around the ranch, they won't allow us to set up a special container to protect a large load of hay, and besides, that would add to my costs significantly. What to do?

Well, sometimes I'm adventurous to go out on the limb. So, I just got to start talking to people. The Hay Cooperative! That's what we need! "Don't you hate having to find time in your schedule to drive out to the feed store every couple of weeks for a few bales of hay? Wouldn't it be nice to have it delivered and stacked by hay-handling professionals? We might even get a cheaper price, especially if you factor in the gas and the value of your time and the cost of chiropractic and anti-inflammatory drugs." What could they say? "No, I like my bi-weekly pain in the back." "Hey, I like the excuse to burn more gasoline!" "But I'm sure my clients love the bits of alfalfa flying in their faces as we tour properties in my BMW!"

Maybe I should start with a feed vendor. The last time we had hay delivered, the venerable man running the feed store sold us several bales of rotting alfalfa. When we asked him to come see it, he vehemently denied that it could be a problem. Though he eventually came and took it all away, he went out of his way to make us feel like we were silly, oversensitive, green-eared goofs for daring to think badly of moldy bales. But Sarah Goodheart (not her real name), who has her own backyard ranch made up mostly of rescued 4-H auction animals, says her hay vendor is pretty dependable. Okay, I'm brave, let's give him a try.

My wife is hot to keep the hay out of her car, so she makes the first overtures. Great! Nice man. Could work out. Okay, I'll call him in several weeks when there is more room in the barn. But he doesn't return my calls. Days go by, with promises by his son to have him call me back, but no call, no message, nothing. What does this mean? "These old codgers are all alike! Hold all city folk in disdain. They think they are too good for us, just because have managed to keep their semi-rural livelihood going despite the California tendency to cover every possible space with asphalt and paving stones! They thumb their noses at us, as we struggle to keep a vestige of domesticated nature around us while we work our desk jobs, refine our client skills, type away all day on a computer keyboard..." Okay, calm down. So the guy doesn't call me back right away. I get busy sometimes, too. Give him a break. RING! Hey, it's him!

Great. So we have an understanding. Then I talk with the Ranch Manager, who gets special approval for my request to store overflow hay in the main aisle of the barn. Awesome! (The old barn has a hay loft, but that was abandoned to the barn owls years ago.) I even get the manager's hay purchase schedule, so I have an idea of who has been bringing in hay and who will need to do so soon.... Wicked! I'm feeling unstoppable now! Good time to send out the plan to everyone and her brother! And? Within 2 days, I have commitments from 10 families to buy into the cooperative! RADICAL!

The great cooperative hay purchase adventure begins!

You might say that I'm a great grandfather!

Foxglove's First Freshening!

On Friday, April 4, my daughter's youngest kid gave birth to two healthy kids! At 8pm, the first arrived, weighing in at 10.5 pounds. My wife assisted in the delivery. Two hours later, his brother was born at the same weight, breech, with assistance from my daughter. I "helped" at the head, giving encouragement and snapping the occasional photo.

The boys are as adorable as their mother! Saturday morning, their names were Gerry and Harry. By evening, their names had changed to You're-a-Cute-Tomato and Yrrebelkcuh. We'll shorten the first to "Tom", and since the latter arrived breech, we'll pronounce his name "Huckleberry".

Foxglove, their mother, had a bit of trouble delivering such hefty boys, but happily joined us for short walk the next day, snacking from the fresh greens growing around the community gardens. Both mom and the young bucks are healthy and happy in their temporary private quarters at the 4-H Ranch.

Now, what are we going to do with these bouncing Oberhasli boys? The 4-H Dairy Goat Project does not allow bucks, even wethered bucks, to stay with the does. But if we can start that project for pack goats we've been talking about, we have some justification to continue to house these beauties at the ranch. Still weighing our options...

In the meantime, we're looking forward to a day soon when the boys are weaned and Foxglove adds fresh goat milk to the family whole food supplies!

Originally published Monday, April 7, 2008 on SPARKPEOPLE.com

A year from city slick to confirmed goat dude

How did it happen?

I know that raising animals is good training for young people. Teaches responsibility. Creates companionship. But how have I become so involved in my daughter's 4-H projects that I am taking on a persona related to the animal she raises? (We raise.)

Am I raising goats because my daughter loves them, or is she raising them for me?