Lately
one of my
goats, the
boss one,
Queen Tut.
Fleetfoot.
has taken
to butting
me. When
it
happened
twice in
one week
this w
inter, as
I w as
dutifully
leaning
over to
tidy up
their
straw bed,
I had no
choice but
to try to
show her
who the
real boss
was.
Swiftly,
with-out a
second
thought,
even
instinctively,
I Iifted
my right
leg in
typical
karate
style and
simultaneously
struck and
shoved her
a good
couple of
feet away
from me.
She is a
large
goat, and
I was
amazed at
the
strength
and effect
of this
shove. But
I was not
the only
one who
was
surprised.
The wild,
challenging
look in
Fleetfoot's
eyes, and
her rigid
stance in
order to
retaliate,
quickly
evoked
soothing
and
reassuring
words from
my mouth.
The battle
was over,
but who
was the
winner?
Fleetfoot,
the
dominant
goat in
the pen,
was trying
to put me
in my
place. Now
that I am
such a
familiar
entity.
she feels
comfortable
enough to
smell my
butt, and
now, to
butt me. I
knew this
could not
continue,
as her
long,
dull,
nonetheless
dangerous,
horns hurt
and create
bruises
when
strategically
jabbed
into my
upper
thigh. She
knows how
to use her
weapons,
even
though I
am not her
enemy.
However, I
am a
threat to
her
dominant
position
in my
little
herd.
What
Fleetfoot
doesn't
know (or
does she?)
is that
she needs
me, and
that she
is totally
dependent
on me. Not
only do I
feed and
water her
and clean
her bed of
manure (I
still
haven't
figured
out why
goats "do
their do"
right
where they
sleep). I
also
relieve
her of the
terribly
full bags
she has
each day.
She is not
drying up
yet, and
if she is
like some
very good
milkers
may not
dry up for
two years!
I just
wish she
were more
like Fawn.
Fawn is a
dream to
milk. The
other day
I was
talking to
her, as I
do when-
ever I
milk, and
I said
aloud, "I
would love
to have
two of you
for one of
Fleetfoot,
or three,
or four."
With only
one
working
bag, the
milking
time is
shorter,
and she
never
kicks or
ohjects....l
never have
to tether
her hind
legs as I
do with
Fleetfoot.
I suppose
in every
family
there will
be a
problem
child, or
adult, but
we still
have to
love them.
Still,
some days
it is a
challenge...such
as the
other day
when
Fleetfoot
kicked the
bucket.
"Kicked
the
bucket!"
my friend
Ed
exclaimed
with great
concern in
his
voiceas we
were
talking
one day on
the
telephone.
"Oh," I
said
quickly,
"I don't
mean that
she died.
She simply
kicked
over the
pail of
milk." We
laughed,
and that
is really
all you
can do
when
dealing
with a
headstrong
animal.
...for
instance,
the other
day...I
entered
the pen
with my
usual
optimism,
fully
determined
that all
would go
smoothly.
I praised
Fleetfoot
for being
such a
good goat
(she is
truly good
9000 of
the time),
and
hopeful of
emptying
her
fullest
bag. It
seems I
can only
empty
three-quarters
of this
one hag
before
she's had
enough and
her hind
feet are
up in the
air. True
to form,
on this
particular
day after
less than
5 minutes,
she grew
restless.
I am
becoming
fine tuned
to her
moods, and
today I
was ‘quick
on the
draw’ so
to speak,
determined
never to
lose milk
again.
Swiftly I
pulled the
pail away.
The
fullest
bag wasn't
empty, but
I had a
nice
quantity
in the
pail.
Now you
tell
me,..."Who's
Boss?"
Read other
articles
by
Christine Maccabee