One of the farm jobs I’m most excited about is caring for the goats.
haha jk! I know (now) that those are sheep!
Here are some of the goats
That little black dude up front is my special buddy. Ever since I was little, I’ve always wanted a small black goat named Gregory. This was inspired by one of my favorite children’s books, “Gregory The Terrible Eater,” about a rebellious little goat who prefers salad to garbage.
When I was first introduced to the goats, I inquired about the little black one’s name. The farmer told me she couldn’t remember the names of the little ones because they were just going to end up in a burger and she was trying not to get attached.
Mixed emotions at that news, but joyous enthusiasm came out on top.
“Perfect! His name is Gregory. And he’s mine.”
Dreams really do come true.
Today, I had the pleasure of helping trim the goats’ overgrown hooves. The two females are very pregnant and therefore VERY fussy, so we decided to hold of on their mani/pedis until after they give birth. I am SO stoked for baby goats!
Aside from dog sitting/walking, I’ve never worked with animals before. Today I jumped right into it, gettin down and dirty with some GOAT WRASSLIN.
I learned that goats do not appreciate having someone else trim their nails the way that humans do. They kick and head butt and run. And they are FAST. Gregory was particularly difficult since he’s so young and not used to getting trimmed. He was the first goat I had to pin down to the ground while someone else trimmed the hooves.
Most of the other goats were happily distracted by a smorgasbord of grain to munch on during the process, but Greggie-poo was so anxious, he didn’t even look at the grain! He kept squirming and trying to head butt me with his tiny horn stumps.
“Maybe you should straddle him.”
Gaby (one of the farmers) and I wrestled Gregory to the ground again and I sat on him like he was a tiny pony. Trying to keep him from spazzing out and head butting me, I struggled awkwardly to hold his head down without poking his eyes out or choking him. Every time his rumen gurgled beneath my arms, I feared he would blow chunks all over my face. And he SCREAMED!
“I’m sorry!” I would exclaim and pull back, only to have Gaby ensure me that he was totally fine.
Gregory just would not submit. He struggled against me the entire time, despite my attempts to coach him through some deep breathing techniques for relaxation.
The other little goat (brown dude next to Gregory in the picture) was a little bit easier.. kind of. This one was a runner. He bolted and made three of us chase him.
However, this time Gaby showed me a good method for “flipping a goat over” that made it a lot easier for me to get on top of it and pin it to the ground in a much more comfortable way. It was exactly the kind of thing I would have never been able to do if I hadn’t just taken a deep breath and gone for it without thinking. After flipping him down, I basically just layed across him for what seemed like forever. It was a nice shoulder workout.
Little brown dude still bleated a bunch, but he was chill enough to nibble on some grain while other people were trimming his hooves. He even rested his head on the ground and kinda tickled my side a few times.
I still like Gregory better because he’s black and his name is Gregory.
So, yeah. That’s my goat wrasslin story.
Freelance writer. Trail runner. Relentless savage.