TheBanyanTree: Goat and Thunderstorms

[NancyIee at aol.com]

I'm going to move back to the country, to a place with acres and trees and a 
ramshackle barn, so, of course, we must have a goat. It just so happened, our 
nearest neighbors knew of another neighbor who raised goats, so we went to see.

His goats weren't the tiny ones but GOATS, large as a Great Dane.

"They have no ears," my friend said, as we watched the goats gather about us. 
One great, brown one lifted her face to mine and greeted me with 
"BLAA_AA_AA_HH!!"

"They're from Switzerland (or some other cold place) and so they evolved into 
having no ears," the goat man said.

"They have no horns," I said.

The goat man explained he did something so they'd have no horns. "Keeps them 
from getting too pushy," he said, as the big brown one nudged me off balance 
with her hornless head.

Nonetheless, they were friendly, and there were a few young ones gamboling 
about and climbing on the picnic table and a pile of old tires. Very cute.  My 
friend pointed out one handsome baby in black and white, with distinctive 
tuxedo markings.

"We'll take the one," we said.

"And a girl one to go with him," my friend added. "We'd like to raise goats."

The goat man said, "The black and white one is a wether. He's got no . .. 
.anyway, he won't be having any babies."

"Oh." We thought about that and then, "we'll take him anyway."

So, we crammed one wiggly wether into the dog crate in the back of my mini 
van and took our goat home.

The next day, as we were giving our new pet food and water, the goat gave us 
the slip and ran away, just as the usual afternoon tropical thunderstorm was 
about to break.

I gave chase as the goat romped across our pasture. Not to worry, we had 
fences, I thought, as goat got down on his belly and shimmied under the barbed 
wire like a G.I. under fire.  I followed, snagging my shirt and part of me on the 
barbs as I clambered through the wire.

"I'm your ne neighbor, " I shouted to the couple out in the next yard. "I'm 
chasing my goat."

"We see that," they said, "Need any help?"  I said I did, so the husband 
followed. We both ran after the goat, who had slid under the next fence and was 
dancing across the next neighbor's field.

We chased the goat half a mile, crossing more farms, meeting more neighbors. 
The husband who had helped, came to the conclusion that we weren't going to 
catch the goat and so he went back home. By then, the sky was black, the thunder 
rumbling. Goat didn't care, as he slipped the last fence and gained the 
little lane.

It started to sprinkle as the goat, me still in pursuit, romped down the lane 
between other farms. I had no idea where I was. I stopped to catch my breath 
and assess the coming storm. I was definitely going to get wet.

Goat turned and ran up someone's driveway, crossed the mowed yard, and 
slipped through another fence into a jungle of palmetto and brush. By then I learned 
a slick way to get quickly past the barbed wire. Lay down and roll under. I 
got dirty and picked up brambles, but I no longer shredded my clothes on the 
barbs.

Anyway, I was soon drenched, as the storm broke in full fury. I gave up the 
chase. My frriend, who had jumped in the trunk as was scouring the various 
little lanes, finally appeared. I was soaked and cold as I got into the truck. We 
went home.

"Goat's gone," I said, having a hot shower and clean, dry clothes.

But, I'm a stubborn sort and felt bad about goat out in the rain. As soon as 
it let up, I went out again. My friend drove back to the last place I had seen 
goat. I got out, ready to do battle again with the barbed wire and the storm. 
I started to hunt about the brush for the goat, when my friend spied him 
taking shelter from the storm under a big grill in someone's carport. Taking a 
chance, I dove for the goat, catching hold of one hind leg.

"BLA_AAA_AA_HH!" went the goat, kicking and bleating. I refused to let go no 
matter how hard he bleated and kicked, and my friend and I wrestled the 
thrashing goat into the back of the pickup. It was raining again pretty hard, but my 
friend jumped in and drove us home. Once again I was drenched, but I would 
not let go of the goat until it was back in it's pen.

Goat went to sleep. I went in to take another shower and find dry clothes. 

"Is this sort of thing normal on a farm?" My friend, a city girl, asked.

"It's very normal," I replied.

She only sighed. 

NancyLee