No Kidding

Have you ever watched goats interact with their herd mates? Maybe you have or maybe you haven’t. Either way, it doesn’t matter because I’m going to share my observations with you. I currently have three female Nigerian Dwarf goats (RIP Nelly) and they are every bit as fascinating as they are adorable. The natural leader is Ethel; she’s not a purebred or she’s just the biggest Dwarf goat to ever live. She is gregarious, curious, and sports a lethal pair of horns. Then there is Tiffany. She is the perfect specimen of her breed with her stout size and glossy black coat. Tiffany is fiercely independent and as affectionate as a lap dog. And finally, there is Nugget. She's young, shy, and starved for attention. She misses Nelly, her horned twin, for both the companionship and protection she offered. Nugget will be the first to admit it’s not easy being the odd goat out.

When the seasons permit, the does are out nibbling and browsing together. They travel the fields and woods in unison with never the upset. These girls are so in sync that when one runs the other two follow. I love clapping and calling “Meh Meh” when they travel too far so I can see them come galloping and leaping towards me, my heart nearly bursting as I watch them play. Their days are spent roaming as the most adorable tiny hooved trio I’ve ever seen. However, all good things surely do come to an end. This bucolic and whimsical imagery is in stark contrast to what goes on during the harsh and barren months of winter. Oh, this time of year I witness behavior that can fill any kid-loving mother with anger and despair.

Now that we are deep into winter, the girls are becoming a bit restless, a touch ornery, and acting more like inmates than herd mates. These previously loyal and inseparable sisters now resemble a middle school clique. You have the ruthless self-appointed president, the patronizing second in command, and the punching bag. Care to guess who’s who? At first, this less-than-ideal conduct bothered me. I found myself wanting to punish Ethel and coddle Nugget but quickly realized that these kids are goats and not my children. No amount of time-outs, long-winded explanations, or chastising will fix their dynamic. Sometimes it’s best to allow nature to take its course and just stand back and observe.

A typical winter day looks like this. In the morning I carry out water to the horses and if neither wind blows nor precipitation falls I open up a bale of hay and spread it around the pasture. Once the horses settle into eating I walk down to the goat pen. They are anxious to get out to join the horses at breakfast. I open the gate and it’s Ethel in the lead with Tiffany and Nugget close behind. This is where it can get interesting. There is a minimum of 8 piles of hay for the 3 horses and the 3 goats. For some reason, Ethel thinks that any pile the smaller goats pick must be better than the one she first arrived at. She will stop eating and with her head lowered run full speed at whoever is closest, sometimes catching her victim off guard. If the recipient of such brutality happens to be Tiffany, well, then she will do the same thing but with less force and no horns to poor Nugget. Nugget will then trot off to another pile and resume eating. However, sometimes she is the one nearest to Ethel and usually runs away before the charge is completed. Nugget has learned that it’s best to avoid confrontation and find companionship with the old gelding Lakota; Ethel wouldn’t dare go after him.

Once all the hay, down to the last wisp, is devoured, the goats will mill about the property picking at grass, nibbling on tree bark, and trying desperately to get at the bird feeder. For the most part, their interactions are peaceful, but sometimes Ethel just needs to be mean. She will actively go after the others especially if they are in the vicinity of the tree with the bird feeders. Tiffany seems to take her annoyance out on Nugget. Nugget, who is of equal size and ability, will and occasionally try to assert herself with Tiffany. These are half-hearted attempts but I believe that will one day change. It goes on like this until someone just decides to walk away. Often Tiffany will come to stand on the front porch and look into the glass-paned kitchen door. It takes everything in my power not to invite her in. Nugget will go off on her own and find someplace to quietly search for scraps like up by the hay storage trailer. Ethel, too engrossed in her greedy ballerina performance at the bird feeder (she stands on her hind legs and twirls), won’t notice she’s been abandoned and for a brief moment, peace returns to the land. That is until she realizes that she is all alone. Then the bleating begins.

Ethel is a curious character. She spends so much time bullying the smaller goats, being food aggressive, and monopolizing my attention that one would think she’d be happiest when left alone. Wrong! She hates nothing more than being separated from the others. She will carry on and vocalize her frustrations until someone responds. Then she will go running to rejoin her herd. It seems like an unintended time-out sets her straight and relaxes the others. The three spend the rest of the daylight hours blissfully roaming, resting, and ruminating together. Balanced is restored until the sun sets and they see me walking to their pen with dinner.

Dinner time had gotten to be quite the ordeal this winter. They would chase after me as if they hadn’t eaten all day; each surrounding and pushing me in an attempt to be the first to get her tiny muzzle into the feed scoop. I would pour equal amounts (probably no more than a handful) into each of the three dishes in the hopes that everyone would settle down and eat her dinner. Ethel was the first to dive in. Then Tiffany. Then Nugget. I would like to say that was the end of it but before I could reach the gate Ethel would be pushing Tiffany away from her dish who in turn would push Nugget away from hers and a clamorous game of musical feed dishes would ensue. The only winner of dinner would be Ethel. Now, I wasn’t overly concerned about the smaller ones because they are all healthy weights but the queen bee looks like she’s about to give birth. Although I didn’t need to worry about their wellbeing, the mom in me got riled up about the unfairness of it all. Now when I go down with their dinner, Ethel gets grain in her dish, and Tiffany and Nugget vie for my attention as I hand feed them. It’s unnecessary. None of them need the extra food but the shake of a feed scoop makes it that much easier to get them in at night. Plus, who amongst us doesn’t like adorable critters eating out of the palm of their hand? Once the tasty morsels are all sucked up the girls settle in for a night of munching hay, chewing cud, and sleeping soundly in a blanket of body heat.

My reason for sharing my observations is twofold. The first is easy. I love my goats and I love talking about them. However, I also spend far too much time wondering. The other day as I watched their daily interactions for the umpteenth time, I couldn’t help but think that maybe this behavior isn’t unique to just goats. Sure, the other animals here on the farm carry on the same way. Food is important to animals’ survival. Instinct tells them to get as much as possible when it is scarce. They don’t take a moment to think that their human will always be giving them more and that they have absolutely nothing to worry about. They don’t say, “Spring is a few months away and once again our food will be abundant so I don’t need to be so stressed.” No, they live in the present and do not have future thinking. They are always in survival mode, much like my kids when we have pizza for lunch.

The thing that got my mind working was when I realized we are no better than goats. We have the intimidators. We have lackeys. We have the disadvantaged. We also have everything in between. I’m sure every one of us knows an Ethel. Maybe you’re one yourself. Sometimes dealing with Ethel can be exasperating. She’s entitled, opinionated, and rude, but she’s also passionate, determined, and strong. Perhaps you can relate to Tiffany. She’s congenial and complaisant, but she has her limits and when pushed too far she explodes. Unfortunately, her anger is usually misplaced. And last but not least we have Nugget. She is timid and always last in line but don’t let that fool you. She is also super resourceful. You just have to pay attention. As my Mom always liked to say, “Still waters run deep.” Nugget has learned a few important tricks during her short life. She knows that she can distance herself from the drama and that sometimes being last in line affords her different opportunities. For example, her new routine at dinner time is to hang back as the other two charge towards the pen in anticipation of a delicious treat. Ethel runs to her bowl in the shed. Tiffany heads in and waits at the shed entrance. But, Nugget takes her time and walks with me and I in turn hold the scoop down for her to get a few extra mouthfuls. It is during those brief moments that my shy little girl will stand on her hind legs and allow me to kiss her muzzle and pet her. I know I don’t need to worry about her. She may be quiet but she can take care of herself.

Now, I hope you’re not taking offense at being compared to a goat. After all, people love accusing others of being sheep. My point is we, just like the goats, are part of a herd. Maybe you would prefer it if I call us a pack but even wolves have their alphas, betas, and omegas. Regardless, we are all individuals living amongst others of the same species, and just like in a herd or a pack we can all serve a purpose and use our innate gifts to our best advantage. If only it were that simple though. After all, unlike the goats, most of us have concerns that go way beyond our daily food consumption. Regardless, of what you spend your time concentrating on you are no doubt concerned about the survival of yourself and the ones you love. I use the word survival loosely because it can mean several different things depending on to whom you’re speaking. To a homeless person, it might mean finding shelter from the cold. To an extravert stuck at home during the pandemic it might mean talking to friends. And to someone who has a high standard of living it might mean landing a big business deal.

We all have different needs and wants. These differences are what influence how we interact with others. Perhaps you act aggressively towards others if you think your opinions are the only correct ones. This may cause people to openly dismiss you or quietly retreat from you and you find yourself all alone. Maybe you put too much emphasis on obtaining the unattainable because you think it will make your life better but the pursuit leaves you broke and exhausted. My point is this: We are all individuals who have their desires but we are still part of a larger community on which we rely.

Community is the key to our survival. Each one of us gains from living like this. We all count on other people to do their part to aid in our survival - from keeping us healthy to keeping us happy. Everyday experiences from items being delivered, shopping for groceries, and even using the internet are all made possible because of our fellow humans. Just think about it. Would you be able to stay safe at home and get much-needed (and unneeded) supplies without the postal system or delivery drivers? Nope. Would you be able to nourish yourself if you couldn’t buy food somewhere? Probably not. Most of us don’t hunt or know how to garden. Just think of all the people it takes to get those items onto the shelves. Would you be able to work from home during a pandemic without the internet? I guess that the unemployment rates would be even higher. Truth is there aren’t too many of us who are self-reliant. I don’t know anyone who is. Whether we care to admit it or not, even the toughest and meanest of us need others to make it through this life. Just ask Ethel when she’s snuggled up at night next to her herd mates.