We just returned, yesterday, from a holiday interstate. We stayed in a “pet-friendly” cabin, tucked away in lush farmland, near a state forest and only a 20 minutes drive from the coast. The place was well-equipped with decrepit-lady-friendly chairs; wood combustion fire; comfortable beds (with electric blankets), and a large outdoor deck. We’d have spent a lot more time sitting out there, admiring the view, if the weather hadn’t been so crappy. (Gale force winds and rain.) Right next door was a large dam full of bullfrogs that sang all night, and a paddock that housed a small family of goats: Dad, Mum, Kid and Extra Female.

After a number of days observing the goats I have to declare, I’m not a big fan. Dad was a magnificent specimen, with wicked curved horns, yellow alien eyes (the pupil goes sideways!) and a ZZTop beard. But, what an absolute oink! I thought I’d share our slightly stale bread with the family. I spread the feast around, making sure there was enough for everyone, with room to move. Dad ate the lot! Whenever Mum (who looked pregnant) tried to sneak a piece he’d headbutt her, right in the gut. I told him, in no uncertain terms, what I thought of his selfish, domestic-bullying ways. He looked me straight in the eyes and, I swear, I could hear him say, “I don’t give a cracker, lady.”

At the moment Kid is indulged and petted but he’s in for a rude shock when he gets older. I felt particularly sorry for Extra Female. She hung around the back and usually missed out on any treats unless I could chuck her a piece before the others wised up. It didn’t happen very often. She had to babysit the youngster but, if she was sitting where Mum wanted to walk, she’d get a whack from Mum’s head and she’d have to move. Mum could just have easily walked around her but, oh no, it was easier to push Extra out of the way. Goats are selfish bullies. The kids are cute, but that’s as far as I go. Give me sheep or cows any day.

It was cow-country, with fresians, black angus and the occasional jersey, wandering the hillsides. Many of the paddocks had hay bales in special feeders up off the soggy ground. Unlike the goats, the cows took it in turns to eat the hay. They’d wait patiently in line until it was their turn. Unlike Dad Goat, not one cow tried to hog the lot. They shared. I’ve seen sheep do similar things. Although I realise that every animal species has its own form of hierarchy and pecking order, nevertheless it seems to me that sheep and cows are far more egalitarian than goats.

I’ve come to the conclusion that on the whole, we could also be sorted into one or other category: sheep or goats. There are people who always put themselves first; who make sure they get what they want or “need” before bothering about others. When their “needs” are satisfied, they’ll think about the wider community. Then there are the people who make sure that everyone is cared for; who even put other people’s needs before their own. There are the bullies, and there are the peace-makers.

Goats have their uses: they provide milk, meat and skins, just like sheep. Their babies are adorable, just like sheep. But, if I had to live with a herd, I’d choose sheep (or cows) over goats any day of the week. Our planet already has far too many people who live like goats. Baaa!