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!
That was very well said, Wendy. We are quite a bit like sheep and goats. Jesus thought the same thing. That doesn’t mean I am likening you to Jesus (he probably had a beard), but that is an astute observation of people.
Keep up the great thoughts.
Cheers
Michael
Thanks for that,Michael. However I think it’s not just the absence of a beard that differentiates me from Jesus! 🙂
I love your blog, but I do hope you went further than the goats during your stay. I’m sure you did! I’d love to hear about the ocean and the beauty that held for you?
We saw an emu, a wallaby, lots of koalas, and a variety of gorgeous birds. We travelled a little way along the Great Ocean Road – in both directions – and were awed at the sheer hard work of the men who built it with only picks and shovels. The ocean was blue and did the usual things: waves, surf, light glinting off the surface etc. We only got out for a few days, due to the terrible weather, but it was great to be able to relax and read and sleep. I hadn’t realised just how tired we both were until we got away. I’m so very grateful that we still have a couple of weeks up our sleeves. I think we need them.
I have a fondness for goats that, now I’ve read your post, I realise comes from having had a lot more to do with knowing them one at a time. Their crowd behaviour sounds like it leaves something to be desired!
We had a gorgeous kid called Mimi, mushroom coloured with a black stripe down her spine, when I was a child. We also had a cleaning lady (not particularly goat-like) who taught me how to milk her goats. Then there was Henery the goat, whom my parents brought home with the mistaken impression he’d keep the grass under control. All he did was wrap his chain around the plum tree and need unwrapping a hundred times a day!
Good memories. Thanks for your story and insight, Wendy.
Oh sure, one-on-one, goats can be delightful; every creature has redeeming features. Mother and child are sweet, too. It’s the group structure that leaves a lot to be desired. I’m glad I stirred some happy memories for you, Claire.
The truly interesting question is:
If the sheep and goats were picking team members for backyard soccer, which of them would want YOU on their team?
Oh no! I used to dread that whole process when I was at school. These days I don’t think either team would want me. I’d probably be in charge of minding their coats. 🙂