HERDING GOATS AT SQUASHVILLE FARM
It happens at least once a week: The goats commit jailbreak. They nibble, squirm, and leap their way out of the two-acre space where they are supposed to stay put. Inevitably, they’ll find their way onto the deck, the driveway, the front steps, the screened porch, the bee and butterfly garden out front, and occasionally across property lines into our neighbors’ yards.
I learn of their transgressions when a nose appears near a window or a hoof pushes open the front door, or when I hear their joyous earthy bellows — or when an irate neighbor knocks.
If my husband is home, a deep groan is emitted, followed by a few swear words. A bucket will be grabbed and filled with grains. The goats will be lured back to their home. Quick and efficient, Jim will find the hole in the fencing that the goats penetrated and shore it up. It will hold — for a while.
Perhaps it’s the garlic,
