Last year, I found an antidote to my despair over the state of the nation. A video of baby goats frolicking around a barn in pajama bottoms appeared in my Facebook newsfeed. I laughed. I cried. I shared.
Cute videos and photos of goats became my solace, my refuge, my happy place. Soon, friends even started posting them on my timeline. I was relieved that no one started calling me “the crazy goat lady.”
I noticed I was not alone. I could “like” any number of goat-oriented Facebook pages, which would ensure a steady stream of caprine videos. Goat farms were offering kid-hugging days and “yoga with goats.” These animals had a following. I didn’t know if I was in at the inception of a craze or emerging in the middle of it, but that didn’t really matter.
My husband, Paul, and I live on a large lot in a city neighborhood. We have a mini-urban farm; that is, we keep chickens and grow a variety of vegetables, herbs and raspberries. There’s room for a couple of goats. I keep thinking about it.
Because I was now plugged into the world of goats, I would periodically be alerted to opportunities to interact with goats, such as the yoga events. I came close to going to one, but chickened out at the last minute. Suppose reality ruined my dreamy relationship with goats?
Earlier this month, however, I went to a farmers’ market and bought some goat cheese. I noticed a sign that said the creamery was participating in Maine Open Farm Day, which was just a few days away. Here was another chance to meet some goats. This time, I took it.
The following Sunday, Paul and I drove out to the creamery, which was about a half hour from our home. I was pleased to see signs for several other participating farms along the way. You can really make a day of it by visiting various enterprises, which, of course, are all different from each other.
The spring kids have grown by now, but I quickly discovered that didn’t matter. I just love goats. On this farm, the goats have an expansive fenced-in area to roam. The milking barn is connected to this area. The goats are guarded from predators by two Great Pyrenees dogs; this is a function that comes naturally to this breed. It was interesting to see that after both dogs ran barking to the far side of the enclosure, one of them took up a position atop a tall compost pile, presumably to watch for intruders.
Goats are friendly. Visitors were able to feed them sunflower seeds, and I did, but I would like to think the goats that approached me weren’t just looking for snacks! Quite a few of them came right up to me and several stuck their heads through the openings in the fence.
So I petted goat heads, and looked into goat eyes. Several of them had blue eyes; all had the distinctive horizontal pupil.
All sorts of animals have their own unique personalities, and goats are no exception. There was one large, black and white doe who tried to eat all the seed out of my hand. She head-butted smaller goats out of the way. She reminded me of colleagues who try to take over meetings at work.
Two identical goats, twin sisters, nestled together and didn’t bother to interact with humans. Others couldn’t get enough petting.
The goats wore tags around their necks with unique numbers on them. Each number corresponded to that goat’s name, which was listed on a notice board. (A farm worker that Paul and I talked with knew them all by sight, however.) The goats are named according to a theme that changes every year; recent themes have included Downton Abbey, Star Wars, and mushrooms. I thought this was clever, as it enabled the humans to keep track of a goat’s age without having to look it up.
There were also chickens running around the property, and one rooster, as well as guinea hens, and peacocks. I’d never seen so many peacocks—perhaps a dozen—up close. I didn’t know they flew up into trees, and I’m not sure I ever heard their loud, screeching call before. When they are in the trees wailing, it is certainly an interesting experience for the bystander!
One peacock was gracious enough to present a full feather display, much to the delight of the visitors.
I took so many photos that I am still editing them and sorting them out. I bought more goat cheese—feta, this time—and a pin that I will wear proudly as we approach the November elections. It says: “I’m pro-goat, and I vote.” Yes, that about sums it up for me.
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