Trust

Our summer has been really rough, dry, dry and glaring heat. We lost a lot of pasture, trees and bushes to the drought. It finally rained a little and things have greened somewhat, but I have had to take the goats on our walks, farther and farther from the house.

This requires a great deal of trust on their part. Because the farther we go from their home the more vulnerable they are to danger and the more they have to rely on me to keep them safe. Some dangers ARE really bad, like predators, and some, (as with humans too) are things only goats can envision in their imagination. Now I have seen them deal calmly with howling wind and crashing thunder & lightning then practically have a heart attack over a blowing leaf. Horses will do this too. I'm sure it has something to do with being a prey animal and instinctive reflexes that kick the flee response into overdrive.

Which makes it all the more remarkable that they trust me to lead them out of their pen and off into the wild twice a day. I appreciate it and am flattered. This was no easy trust to win. When they came to me as babies, they had not had a lot of human interaction. They were whisked away from mama, stabbed with hypodermic needles and stashed in the back of my car and then put into a pasture where nothing was recognizable. They huddled together and glared at me...and ran from me...and screamed bloody murder when I tried to pick them up- no joke if you haven't heard a kid goat cry out in fright or pain, you haven't heard anything. It is heart wrenching - They ran as if I was a goat eating tiger.

Those smart little goats made me work for their trust. It didn't come easy...and even now 3 1/2 years later, Bessie is a hold out..who frequently gives me the evil eye and snorts at me. It has taken it's toll on me. I have had to give up a lot for them..sleep, time, money. I have been knocked down, tripped, had to dig through 4 ft of snow, made emergency vet trips, learned to give shots, spend hours and hours giving comfort and aid...only to be snorted at and glared at and rejected.

And then one day, Fritz, my big black wether, walked up to me and rubbed his head on my leg and nibbled on my shirt sleeve and I melted. And we started taking our walks, me and 7 very interesting goats.

Every day I learn something from the animals on our farm..patience, perserverence,courage, but their trust is a gift...AND an obligation because now I have to live up to that trust. Everything in the animal world mirrors ours. We have predators after us too and problems and dangerous situations and people in our lives. We should all demand that the people we bring into our lives earn our trust and renew it daily. Just I have to do every morning and evening when I go to the goat pen and say, "Come on goats, let's go walkies!"

Prairie Madness

This morning Ed & I got up at 5:30. Not so unusual on a farm. But not something I LIKE to do.

Anyway, today was summer shearing for the goats and it needs to be done while it's still cool outside.

Did I mention that we have been dealing with temperatures in the high 90's (two days of over 102) and no rain for about 2 months now? It's not the end of the world and it's not as bad as the 4 feet of snow last winter, but it makes everything a challenge. Sure, there will be no second cutting of hay..uh...actually there is no grass. And sure, the ponds have dried up and the trees are starting to drop leaves early...but it could always be worse. Think Sahara.




Living on a farm makes you a philosopher, like it or not. You have no choice but to accept whatever is thrown at you and deal with it. Nobody but you cares if you are having a crappy day or a crappy life. No sympathy from the goats, that's for sure. Chickens could care less whether your sweating your butt off. So you are left to draw on your own resources. Doesn't mean you can't rant and rave...just that there is no one to listen or care.

I often think of the early settlers that went out to homestead in The Dakotas and Kansas, Iowa, Nebraska. Tough people. The women frequently went nuts from the ordeal. They called it Prairie Madness. I can believe it. I have driven across Kansas and it was an ordeal in a comfortable car.

Anyway, we got up and out early to shear the goats. They were up too, but just. Yawning and stretching and looking at me as if to say "whaaaa"? (they don't have a big vocabulary). But then we all got to work...us doing our job, catching goats, checking eyes & ears, trimming little cloven hooves, feeling for lumps, cuts, ticks, shearing, scissor trimming,dusting for parasites, giving worm meds, hugs and pets...and them doing their job, jumping, snorting, pretending to hate the attention and snapping up the pretzel treats being handed out. And then I saw the sun coming up behind the trees and it was beautiful and we all stopped to look. Two humans and seven goats all took a moment to breathe. And it was very very nice.

Now it is 98 degrees...the goats are all resting very quietly in the shade...I am resting quietly in the air conditioned house, all of us fending off Prairie Madness.