Led By A Goat, Excerpt

It has come to my attention that I haven't posted any story excerpts in awhile! So I thought I might do that today... If you are new here and haven't read the other parts of the story, you can do so by clicking HERE.

  If Heidi was a ticking time bomb, her moment of explosion came at the end of that first January… It was a dim and damp afternoon, as most ones are in Oregon during winter. I was throwing fresh hay into the manger for the animals and stuck around for a few extra moments to watch all my girls; caprine and bovine alike. Capri and Ivy looked gorgeous as always, with their glossy coats and beautiful, expressive faces. Poppy the Jersey calf was growing steadily in her own awkward, cow-like way. Her eyes were liquid pools of brown that never failed to win me over, and her baby coat was as soft as velvet. She was three months old now, and still rather small, but I loved that little calf… Heidi was looking – better. Not great by any stretch of the imagination, but she was noticeably better. I could see her stomach rounding out where a kid (or maybe two?!) lay within. She was due sometime in the next month to give birth, and I was nervous that she might have problems due to her malnourished state.

With hay being thrown, Heidi pulled her usual stunt of aggressively hogging the entire manger to herself. Capri and Ivy were smart enough to back off and stay put, but Poppy trotted right back up to where the food was and started nibbling. Heidi glared at her, but the dim-witted calf paid no heed. You could practically see the anger building up in that goat as she fumed over the calf who wouldn’t get out of her space. Like a sledgehammer, she swung her head viciously in Poppy’s direction; warning her to get out or suffer the consequences. Brilliant bovine that she was, Poppy blissfully ignored everything. Heidi tried her tactic again, getting dangerously close to hitting the small calf. Something in that white goat snapped, at that moment. Her eyes were alive with fury, and she laid her tiny ears flat against her skull. I realized too late what was about to happen as I watched in horror as Heidi torpedoed herself into Poppy’s side. Using brute strength, Heidi propelled herself and the calf against the southern barn wall where she began violently ramming and stomping my bawling calf. “Heidi! Knock it off!” I yelled, as I hurriedly moved to get inside the pen. I could easily see this as being the death of Poppy if I didn’t get in there quickly. The blows continued to rain down; hooves striking flesh and head being used as a battering ram. The calf stopped moving and making noise.

  By the time I reached Heidi, I was mad -- no, furious with her! My temper welled up at that moment and without thinking my left foot shot out and I kicked her in the stomach. HARD. I knocked the breath out of her with my forceful blow, and it caused Heidi to turn and cease her savagery on Poppy. “I don’t care if that hurt you! I don’t care if that causes you to abort!” I angrily screamed at Heidi, “Don’t you EVER touch my calf again!!” Heidi reared up on her hind legs, ready to do battle with me. A large goat to begin with, when she stood on her hind legs she was just over six feet tall. That’s a creature to contend with! She twisted her body into an arc and plunged down; her head only inches from me.

 At that moment, the smoke of my anger cleared. I realized what I had done, and wondered if it was all over now. Had I completely broken all chances of taming her now? I stood there, trembling from head to toe, staring at Heidi who stared back at me. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Poppy getting up, and soon she trotted past the two of us. Heading for a safer area. What could I do now? My burst of wrath had most likely unwound my work. “I’m sorry.” I whispered softly. “I’m so sorry….” And with that I left the barn. Ashamed that I had let a goat rile me…

Led By A Goat, Part 3

Life was certainly interesting with Heidi around. In her underweight condition, she was roughly 150 lbs. Capri, who was my second biggest animal on the farm at the time, weighed only 130 lbs. Heidi frequently used brute strength to bully the others away from the hay manger, and sometimes even out of the barn altogether. Her instincts were in overdrive, and she was trying to eat as much food as possible. All other creatures were looked upon as competition for food, and she was determined to climb her way to the top of pecking order, and keep all the food to herself. I kept the 8’ long, 3’ wide, and 4’ deep hay manger full at all times, but that didn’t deter her from aggressively commandeering the entire structure. Capri and Ivy rebelled towards this big, white goat. Fights broke out. Heads became bloodied. Heidi was like a ticking time bomb; you were always waiting for the moment of explosion.

Each day I tried to tame my new wild girl. It was late December now, and she was due to kid in February. I needed her to be calm and trusting enough by then, that I could milk her. Despite my daily efforts, Heidi remained stubbornly introverted. She was untouchable, and flighty; insecure and distrustful. At times, I could see a spark of something different flickering in her eyes. As if perhaps she wanted to trust me. But those moments were fleeting; lasting only a minute or two before being once more veiled in doubt. I tried feeding her choice tidbits by hand, I tried brushing her, I tried talking to her without making eye contact; I tried everything I could think of! I don’t know what her past was like, and most likely never will, but something obviously happened to her that caused her life to shatter. What I beheld now were shards: Broken, seemingly irreparable, cracked, destroyed… And yet, amidst the ruin I saw beauty. Even broken glass will still reflect light. I felt like there was still hope for her, if I could only figure out how to reach her. How do you try and make a goat understand that she is finally safe, and will not be abused again?

As I watched and cared for her in the following weeks, my memory was still trying to figure out why her story seemed so familiar. Why was I perpetually haunted by the look in her eyes? The answer was on the tip of my tongue, and yet forever dancing just out of reach. Like trying to remember the name of your first childhood friend, or your favorite candle scent when you were young, such memories can be hard to resurrect, but they’re there; hovering in the back of your mind.

The answer to my plaguing question dawned on me one afternoon as I watched Heidi in frustration. I had just spent the last couple of hours groveling for her attention but it was to no avail. The Nubians circled me like land sharks during this time; eager for affection and back scratches, but I waved them off. I wanted Heidi. Couldn’t she see that? Couldn’t she see that I wanted to hold her, scratch her behind the ears, and be her leader? I was frustrated to the point of being angry. She wouldn’t open up to anyone! She no longer trusted humans! What happened to cause her to lose faith?! That’s when it hit me. As if punched in the stomach, I gasped, and had to sit down on the damp ground as the realization dawned on me.

Why did her looks of fear and mistrust seem so vaguely familiar? Why did I feel like I had seen it all before? It was so obvious that I missed it until now:

I was seeing a mirror of myself.

Resentment, bitterness, pride, fear, pain… When I looked upon Heidi for the first time, and saw those emotions fleetingly pass through her, I was unconsciously harking back to my own memories of the same feelings. I bought her, wondering why she seemed so familiar to me, and now, in a dumbstruck manner, realized that I was seeing my own reflection in a four-legged animal. I understood her now...

This has been really helping me, to post parts of my book on here. :) Makes me write it faster! 

Led By A Goat, Part 2

 Having paid for what was now my goat, we worked quickly to load her into the bed of our red pickup truck. With most goats, once you get their front half up there, the rest follows. Not so with this girl. She fought us with whatever strength she still had; blowing and snorting loudly. Her eyes flashing anger and fear. Finally, the man went back into the decrepit barn and brought out a bucket of grain. I watched silently as the poor goat zeroed her gaze on that bucket, and with no help at all she scrambled into the truck bed; eating as if it was her last meal. Just before climbing into the truck to leave, I turned and asked the man if she had a name. He was silent for a moment, as if trying to remember if she did or not. Then he looked at me and said, “Tina. Her name is Tina.” And with that, we parted. He with one hundred dollars in his pocket, and I with a bedraggled caprine named Tina.


The ride home was fairly quiet. Tina seemed too busy trying to stay upright, than to be voicing her opinions on being shanghaied. Forty minutes later, we pulled up to the barn. My barn is certainly nothing fancy, what with its metal walls and roof. Not to mention it leaks on the left side and floods on the right. But it was good enough for me, my goats, and my rogue Jersey calf whose name was Poppy. I opened the main door and hollered to my goats whom I affectionately call “the girls”. “Girls! I have someone new for you to meet!” At that time, there were only two other does: Capri, an Oberhasli/Nubian cross who was my star milker, and Ivy the purebred, registered Nubian. Capri was the color of rich chestnut, with ebony accenting her legs, face and spine. In the sunlight her coat shimmered and rippled like rays of light dancing upon a brook. She was my sweetheart, with her placid temperament and perfect manners. Milking over one gallon a day also helped increase my appreciation for her. Ivy was still a gangly yearling, but managing to put ¾ of a gallon into the pail each day. Her strawberry roan color clashed somewhat with her two buff hued “badger stripes” on her face, but I didn’t mind too much. Her fancy pedigree and potential as a show goat were enough for me.

As I walked in the barn with Tina bucking and thrashing at the end of my lead rope, it hit me, just what a stark comparison there was between her and my two other does. Capri and Ivy were plump, sleek, elegant, and had their own unique style about them. Tina looked like a crow among the swallows; a dandelion with the roses. A Volkswagen Beetle next to a BMW. She was as out of place as a draft horse at a race track. Capri, Ivy, and Poppy pushed against the flimsy wire fencing that created their pen inside the barn, trying to get closer to the newcomer who was infiltrating their home. Getting Tina inside the pen proved to be a challenge on its own. With the two milkers trying to nose the gate out of my hands so they could escape, Tina still plunging to get away, and the cow bellowing for her evening bottle of milk, the moment was anything but reflective and calm. But somehow, in a moment of supernatural strength, I managed to charge through the little gate, drag Tina with me, and keep Capri and Ivy within the fenced premises. HA! Victory is mine, you mischievous fiends! I barked at Poppy to be quiet, who then slunk into a corner and batted her big doe eyes at me. I untied the rope that was still anchoring Tina to me, and anxiously wondered what this wild gal would do now that she had her freedom. Her first move was to get as far away from me as possible. I could see her indecision as she tried to decide if she should run to the farthest part of the pasture, or stay inside and eat hay. She chose the latter, and began stuffing her face; eyeing me warily the whole time.

Family members came out to the barn, excited to see the new addition to the herd. They came in with smiles and questions, but stopped short in steps and words when they saw my miscreant. “You paid how much for that thing?” They all asked. Other comments floated around as they each came and went. “That is the ugliest goat I have ever seen.” You’re actually going to keep her?” “She’s so thin, why did you even bother with her?” On and on the opinions came; like torrents of water, they eddied and swirled around me and Tina. I was a little sheepish at this point; slightly regretting my purchase and wondering if I had been too rash in my actions. But it was too late now. I had to make the best of the situation I was now in. I looked Tina up and down, trying to figure out what I should do first about her looks and state. Perhaps I’m a vain person, but one thing that was really bothering me about her was her six inch long beard that she was sporting. Something in me just doesn’t like beards on my does! It almost seemed to be throwing the symmetry of her face off, seeing as it was so long but her ears were so short. In the end, I let the beard stay as it was for the time being. She had been stressed enough already; there was no need to overdo things.

 But there was one thing that I DID want to do before the night was over. She needed a different name. The name Tina really didn’t seem to fit her, and it harbored memories of her past in those two syllables. What we needed was a new name for a new start here in her new home. We needed to start completely over. Unfortunately, when it comes to names, I tend to get so overwhelmed in the process, that it takes forever to make a decision. Should I name her Pfeffernusse? Snow White? Lily? Greta?

Like I said, I’m bad at names. One name, however, kept on coming back to me: Heidi. She reminded me so much of the Saanen goats in that Classic tale, “Heidi”. I figured Heidi was better than Pfeffernusse (which is a kind of cookie, by the way), so it stuck.

Heidi had landed at Goat Song Farm. What had I done? And what would become of this adventure?

This is yet another excerpt from my growing story. :) This chapter is perhaps not as good as the first, but it's serving as the bridge into the rest of the story. It gets better. ;)

Excerpt

 It was something in her eyes… Resentment, bitterness, pride, fear, pain… As if she had irreversibly locked the tumbler to her soul, she stood there: staring scornfully. Not caring about anything anymore. I was looking at the forsaken shape of a white goat, that chilly winter day. The sky was blanketed with gray clouds that looked like damp wool, and a soft mist hung in the mountains. I had come to this dilapidated farm to be shown what I was told to be a Saanen doe, and it appeared that I was looking at her. Her fur coat was a shaggy, three inches long, but even that couldn’t hide her bones jutting sharply from her gaunt hide. To my sorrow, I learned that this destitute creature was heavily pregnant and due to kid in less than two months. She looked hardly capable of surviving, let alone being pregnant. Her eight month old buckling came trotting up to her and began nursing eagerly. Poor girl, I thought, she’s practically being eaten alive as this buckling, and the kids in her womb steal her preciously scarce nutrients.

My heart went out to this horridly ugly excuse for a goat, and I gently reached out to stroke her. She looked at my outstretched hand and hurriedly moved out of my reach. Despite her impoverished condition, her eyes still glowed with feeling. I saw hatred smoldering like embers in her expressive face. Though she stood in a quagmire of filth and was disgraceful to look at, she stood with her head held high. Like a princess locked in a concentration camp, she knew in her heart that she was more than her prison mates. Trying to not let my emotions get the better of me, I rationalized buying such a creature. It was possible that she could die during labor, due to her critical state. Or she might not be a good milker, which is what I was looking to buy. I was on the hunt for a purebred, preferably registered milking goat, and here I was staring at a neglect case. This goat was by no means purebred, either. She had the build and look of a Saanen, but her ears were a dead giveaway to her other lineage: They were only one inch long. Those ridiculous looking ears screamed La Mancha blood, so I could only presume she was a Saanen/ La Mancha cross.

But her eyes haunted me… Where had I seen something like that before? As if groping for a forgotten history, my mind searched for an answer to this riddle.

Meanwhile, the owner watched my silence and took it for hesitance in buying her. He reassured me that it didn’t matter if I bought her or not. If I didn’t, his hunting buddy would come over the next day and just turn her into sausage. It didn’t matter to him; it was just a goat.

I looked at the wretched creature before me, again, and I thought about the $100 in my pocket. She was too proud, it seemed to me, to be turned into sausage. Not to mention her unborn kids would be killed as well. I sighed, and handed over one hundred dollars. Not only did I want to see what was behind her layer of filth, but something in me also wanted -- or maybe needed -- to figure out where I had seen such a haunted look before. Why did her eyes seem like such a familiar memory in the back of my mind?

This small blurb is from something I've been working on over the past week. Just thought I'd share, and ask y'all for some feedback. :)