Our collection of ruminant residents include three rescue goats. Obnoxious, cute and very opinionated. A female named Lilo, her twin brother Stitch and our old man Danny.
Danny was rescued from a traditional slaughter by our local SPCA. We can’t stop the slaughtering of animals, but we will step in when there is cruelty involved. This was what saved Danny’s life as he had been tied up by hoof and head for three days awaiting his fate. It also helped that he had made his displeasure known by making a godawful noise and that he had been left at a local shopping centre awaiting his fate. Someone took pity on his continuous crying and called the SPCA.
SPCA swooped in, found him tied up, immediately confiscated the goat and brought him back to their premises. When we let him loose he was hopping mad. He let rip and horned everybody and everything in sight. The SPCA staff would tread carefully when they went in to his enclosure to feed, one distracting him and one quickly feeding him. Days turned into weeks and he finally became the property of the SPCA. We put him up for adoption but we weren’t holding our breath as who would consent to giving such a little demon a home?
Who indeed?
My daughter who was still in school spent a lot of afternoons at the SPCA volunteering. To our utter amazement the goat started showing preference for his young companion who didn’t relent in her quest to befriend him. He started following her around and would even stand for head scratches. “OK,” we thought “he is calming down.” No such thing. Everybody else was treated like the anti-Christ and horned at every occasion. The relationship between Danny (as he had been named by now) and Briony just went from strength to strength and it came as no surprise when she said she would like to adopt Danny. We completed the formalities and adopted a goat with nowhere to put him and nobody but ourselves knowing about the adoption as we certainly did not have the green light from Dad. He would only find out about Danny years later when we had to move him to the farm where we first stabled our horses. The purple/ red face started showing itself again and everybody held their breath in anticipation of the impending storm. That came and went and Danny stayed.
Then, enter Lilo and Stitch. Born out of wedlock by a whoring mother who gave birth and promptly went and died leaving me with two kids to raise. The old saying of: “Be careful what you wish for,” has sprung to mind on many occasion because as with Mowgli who couldn’t be alone, I also uttered the thought that Danny couldn’t be alone. Somewhere my message and the granter of wishes got things a little muddled and two became three.
Danny is very old now, he was an adult goat when we got him and we have had him more than 10 years. He is still fit, fat and flourishing and able to keep the two young ones on their toes.
Lilo, and Stitch are 8 years old. Everybody that sees Lilo always thinks she is harbouring babies in her ample belly as she looks like she has swallowed a watermelon.She just loves food.
It is very, very frustrating that people still think I would have a goat that is proliferating the earth with children. I am a firm SPAY and NEUTER campaigner and have had every male on the property castrated in the hope that I would be able to stem the flow of babies. Lilo is just fat and letting the family name down, that’s all.
Stitch is a MAN. Gorgeous, big and very clever. He loves checking his strength against every person that enters his domain. His favorite time is when the plot children from across the road come and play with him. They challenge him to head duels and he gives them unbridled entertainment. He measures his ‘manness’ against their strength, making them run like hell when they have had enough. There is no off button there. He only knows one speed and that is the Stitch speed. His elation at being the uncrowned king of Saxonwold road is quickly tempered when Danny puts him in his place afterwards.
Old man rules, for now.
The goats roam in all the horse paddocks during the day. They move around as they please. I personally think they would prefer to stay in their suite and be served breakfast, lunch and dinner by their human servants but that is not going to happen.
Their natural curiosity and bolshiness has brought us into disrepute with many visiting friends. Everybody always wants to go and say hello to the horses, but this means we have to run the goat gauntlet. Crossing through the paddock where they spend most of their time is a dangerous thing. I have had those horns in places that no horn should ever go and therefore my warning to visitors is always to stay close to the grooms and run when I say run. People laugh and give me a look of ‘surely not’. This changes when they are confronted by the evil little shits and running becomes their only option. Not a fabulous sight and many guests have lost a little of their dignity in that goat paddock.
Deliveries to the farm has to be through the goat paddock. This poses a problem as Fiona, the donkey, wants to get into the car or truck and the goats want to get on. A while ago I had sawdust delivered by a new supplier. The truck they arrived it was brand new and I immediately started feeling a little ‘benoud’. I knew there was going to be some fuckery with the goats and the donkeys and the new vehicle so I asked my grooms to quickly gather everybody and keep them enclosed in the garden. This should allow the guy to offload without having to fight over-enthusiastic animals off. Everybody was very happy to oblige thinking they were going to be given their evening meal so they had no objections to being ushered in. The minute that new truck stopped and they didn’t have what they thought they were entitled to the problems started. The goats managed to escape though a back gate that wasn’t closed properly and within no time they were on the truck and on top of the sawdust bags, challenging the truck driver to a horned duel. He wanted to save his truck and accepted the challenge swinging his jacket shouting:’ Off!off!” The goats thought it was heaven and had him pinned to the furtherest corner in no time. By the time we got to him he was bleating like a lamb. He left there in a huff and has never been seen again. Delivery was no longer included in the purchase of sawdust.
That’s what I have to deal with everyday, be careful what you wish for.
The goat madness continues.
