Things continue to turn on their ear this Summer. I'm writing this while watching black and white reruns of The Twilight Zone so having life turned on its ear seems... well, normal.
Our goats are out in their new pasture. They got too rambunctious to keep taking on walks with the kids and we couldn't keep them in their small pen indefinitely. Dh and Will with some help from Mr. Cubby fixed the fencing in our back pasture. There were some post fences that they goats could easily slip through and DH stapled heavy gauge wire fencing to it.
Alas, it didn't contain them. When you read that goats are difficult to contain, let me tell you, believe it. We think they were slithering under one of our gates.
The first call from our neighbor went unnoticed since DH doesn't always check his voice mail. Apparently the goats escaped on Sunday evening and went over to visit the cows in his pasture. Our neighbor led them back with a dog leash and we were none the wiser, until DH checked his voice mail two days later.
The following day, there was another call. The neighbor (again, though for us it was the first time we had heard there was a problem) said our tiny goat herd was headed for the main road.
And, yes, it was raining.
I took off running, shouting at my oldest over my shoulder, who unfortunately suffers from real occasional hearing loss. His response to me was, "WHAT??" Fortunately Mr. Cubby, second in command, heard me and repeated the instructions.
I ran as I have not ran since my first and only 5K some 12 years ago. I ran through the ten acre field next door with grass so high it brushed my shoulder in some places. The rain picked up, of course. I sloshed on through the field watching the main road though the trees on my left. No flashes of white. No bleating. No goats. The field ended abruptly at a gravel road. Still no goats.
Water dripped into my face. My shirt was heavy and clung to me but not in the way wet t-shirts hang on co-eds in Florida bars. I yelled, "Daisy,' feeling like a complete idiot. What does one normally do when one loses a goat? How does a goatherd deal with this problem. I have no staff. I have no goat whistle. No electric goat prod (but wow I should totally get one of those!)
I ran down the gravel road past our neighbors who called. I ran past more houses. Nothing. Not a goat in sight. Normally, when they're wet and feeling put upon by the weather, they complain. They bleat and bleat and you can hear them from far off. The silence made me wonder if they had become part of someone's plans for shashlik.
Then, as I jogged back toward the main road, my neighbor popped her head out of her front door. "They're in my garage."
Embarrassment.
Our goats were in our neighbor's garage. I ran down her long driveway and the automatic door slowly opened to reveal a pristine SUV and three wet goats calmly chewing their cud. They were not happy to see me. Rather impressed by their new digs, they, well, dug in. Lacking hooks, crooks, and electric goat prods, I tried to lure Luke out into the open with some goat pellets but they quickly dissolved in the rain. Even if they hadn't dissolved, I doubt he would have been tempted to leave the confines of his comfortable shelter.
So I did what any suburban mom turned farm girl would do; I grabbed Luke's head where his jawbone connects to his skull and I pulled. He planted. I pulled harder. He tried to shake me off. I held fast and pulled him forward slowly out of the garage. Luke reacted to the rain like it carried an electric current. He bucked. When that didn't work, lowered his head to butt me. But I had lucked into a superb goat wrestling hold that he could not break.
Daisy and Bo followed us curiously toward the garage opening. They eyed the gray sky and then the warm, dry garage and then their unfortunate brother, Luke. They seemed content to watch the show and showed no interest in getting involved in our little parade.
Anxiety set in. What if I could only get one goat out at a time? What if I had to lead each goat to the pasture walking backwards through a driveway, a 10 acre field and then through my own lot into the goat pen? What if my neighbor shut her garage in the meantime and I had to go back, ring her doorbell and tell her what a completely hopeless city girl I am and ask her if I could please get my other two goats?
I backed half-way down the driveway before the two ladies decided to follow us. It was slow and tedious but once the goats were all together the pace picked up. Luke continued to try to buck my hold. Finally, after we had put enough distance between us and the garage, I let him go. The herd went back to their pen.
Goats can escape through much smaller spaces than you might think. And they really don't like rain.
Speaking of small spaces and things being turned on ear, I'm homeschooling again this year. It does feel a little like I'm heading back into the Twilight Zone. We shall see.
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