Linda and I own a few sheep and two goats. We got these animals so we wouldn't have to mow the pasture in front of our house. Mowing seems such a waste of time and fuel. The fact that neither of us knew anything about raising sheep or goats played absolutely no part in our decision. Our vision of agrarian life bordered on the idyllic. We would have a little McDonald's farm where the grandchildren would enjoy playing with the farm animals. With these obvious pleasures in mind, we also bought a couple of rabbits from a neighbor.
So, we procured the livestock and proceeded to live out our lives as landed gentry with an assortment of beautiful beasts to choose from. We were now ready for a steady stream of grandchildren to play with them.
Right from the start, the goats proved to be escape artists. The fencing was good -- no problem there. It was at the lower gate -- the one closest to the house, and the place where we fed and watered the animals -- that the goats managed to push hard enough to get their heads through. And, brother, let me tell you that, once a goat gets his head through something, the rest of his body is sure to follow. Getting them back in was no problem since they had been bottle fed and were real pets from the beginning. In fact, they would almost take you down with friendliness. They were brothers, a black and white one named Billy Bud, and a tan and white one named Buddy. They were both neutered, so we thought we would have little to no trouble with them. How little we knew the mind of a goat!
Let me say right here that Linda is a city girl who loves living in the country but has zero experience raising farm animals. I, on the other hand, had grown up with milk cows and hogs and butchering and so forth. But even I was not prepared for some of the challenges with which Buddy and Billy presented us. I can still remember the first time the goats got out of their pen. I stepped out of the house one day to see Linda screaming and running around the yard trying to herd the goats back into the pen. I noticed right away the gate was still closed, so the possibility of getting them to go back in was less than zero. I told Linda to go open the gate.
"But if I do that, the sheep will get out too!" she cried.
"Well how did you expect to get them back in with the gate closed?" I asked. "You'll just end up frustrating yourself."
I quickly got some feed in a bucket and headed out to the goats. "They'll follow this bucket of feed," I said.
And, sure enough, the goats followed me back into the pen and the sheep didn't get out when Linda opened the gate. Instead, they all headed for the bucket in my hand.
"Honey, don't you know you can't drive a goat or a sheep anywhere?" I lectured. "You have to lead these animals. And use a little feed. They'll follow you anywhere."
"Well, I was just afraid a big old dog would attack them. I guess I panicked."
I gave her a hug as we examined the gate where the goats had gotten out. There was a small space between the end of the gate and the post it was latched to, so I got a hammer and a staple and fixed the chain so it would latch a lot tighter. The gap was no longer big enough for the goats to get their heads through. Or, so I thought. Little did I realize how creative goats can be.
And the goats haven't been the only problem. In feeding the rabbits, one of us (I won't say who) left the door to their cage unlocked and one of the rabbits got out. That was the last we ever saw of that rabbit. I searched all around the yard and garden area but could find no trace of him. In relating this story to Chris Henson, our accountant, I said I couldn't find "hide nor hair" of him. Chris and Linda both burst out laughing.
Chris said, "That was good!" It took me a little while to catch on that I had made a pun. I certainly hadn't meant to.
But it does pay to have a sense of humor, though, if you raise livestock. One thing our goats enjoy doing is climbing trees. It is not uncommon to see Billy and/or Buddy pretty high up in a large mulberry tree that grows in their pasture. They often climb this tree and eat leaves or just to enjoy the climb itself. It is comical to see them relaxing in a tree. The sheep will gather around the base of the tree to watch them but have never offered to climb the tree themselves. Sometimes the ram, who has a mean streak in him, will run the goats up the tree. At these times, the ram will place his front legs on the side of the tree in a threatening manner but never ventures any further.
This ram loves to butt things. Like, for instance, the other sheep or the goats. Or sometimes he just steps back and runs headlong into a tree. The tree doesn't give at all, but the ram doesn't seem to mind. He will butt a tree repeatedly. Or he might take and butt the gate over and over again. This is especially true if we feed him grain. I guess he is just "feeling his oats" as the old saying goes. The fact is that the ram ended up butting the gate so much that he broke some of the welds on it. This allowed him and all of the ewes, together with Billy and Buddy to escape. This was a major fiasco.
I was just getting out of the shower when Linda came running into the house. "The sheep are out!" she yelled.
"Well that's just fine!" I replied in frustration, "I hope a dog gets every one of those jokers!"
I hurriedly dressed and ran out to get some feed. I had no problem getting the goats to follow me, as well as the ram and a couple of the ewes. But one of the ewes, the one we call Sweetpea -- which is a stretch since she is the meanest ewe on the place -- refused to come to the feed bucket. I shook it repeatedly, but she shrugged it off and ran around grazing here and there. With her were two other ewes. They all steadfastly refused to go back into the pen.
So I did what any experienced small stock farmer would do. I left them out overnight. I knew I was taking a chance with coyotes and dogs, but was at my wits end. Linda could barely sleep that night for worrying about Sweetpea and her rebellious friends.
The next morning dawned cold and clear with a heavy frost. I dressed and made my way outside with a little feed in a bucket. I shook the feed around some and banged on the bottom of the bucket. Way up at the top of the hill I saw the tips of three heads raise up beside the neighbor's chicken houses. I banged on the bucket some more and here came all three ewes running down the driveway.
"Open the gate!" I shouted to Linda. I hurried into the pen with the feed bucket as Sweetpea and the other ewes ran in behind me. Linda quickly shut the gate behind us. I turned and smiled at her triumphantly.
"Isn't living on a farm a lot of fun?" I asked.
"Yes, it is," she answered, "but it's taken years off my life."
I reached over and gave her another hug. "Cheer up, Honey, none of the sheep got eaten and they are all back in the pen."
We smiled at each other as we watched the animals grazing contentedly in the pasture. We then headed back inside to eat our breakfast, proud owners of a successful farm.
Sam Byrnes is a Gentry-area resident and weekly contributor to the Eagle Observer. He may be contacted by email at [email protected]. Opinions expressed are those of the author.
Editorial on 03/29/2017