Friday, June 19, 2009

A face only a mother (or an aspiring farmer) would love

I've decided that it takes a special person to love goats. By special I mean eccentric. Sure, lots of people think goats are cute, but when you've been around them for any length of time, swept up their poop, had them pee on your foot, try to eat your hair or clothing, step on your bare foot with their whole weight and decide to hang out there indefinetely, had to catch them and hold them down to vaccinate them, and gotten goat hair all over your body after giving them a clipping, you know that it takes a really special person to love a goat. To look at them after all that and still think, awww...

You might remember some posts last year about 2 goats that I named Oskar and Voldemort. They were my favorites. You might also recall that we had some serious parasite issues with the herd of wethers, and by the time the season was over most of them were dead. I had assumed that my beloved goats met the same fate. They weren't puny, but they weren't particularly hardy animals, and so I figured they were probably dead. Imagine my surprise when I drove down the gravel driveway after 5 months of being in Europe, and I saw them running after my car inside their pasture. Shocked is probably a better word. At this point, they are the only remaining wethers from last year's herd. And aren't they darlin'?

It appears that they've developed quite the bond since they're the only two goats in this pasture that they share with Honeysuckle the cow. When I go to the fence to pet them, Honeysuckle gets jealous and chases them away so I can pet her instead. It's hard to imagine a cow being jealous, but this would appear to be the case.

I still think Oskar is the prettiest little goat I've ever seen (he's the one in the background with his head up). I really can't rationalize why I love goats so much. I guess you know you've found something worthwhile when you can't rationalize the joy out of it.
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