Friday, June 1, 2012

Not Altogether Unexpected

It is with a heavy heart that I report the death of the old goat.

It's not like I was attached to the critter. But The Pony takes it hard when any of our furred or feathered friends bite the dust. So I am sad for The Pony most of all. His dad called from the pen to break the news to him. The #1 son, on the other hand, hollered down to me several hours later, "Hey! I hear that Longhorn died!"

Longhorn was on his last legs when we got him two years ago. Literally. There was something wrong with his back legs. He was all wobbly. But not bad enough to strap his hindquarters on a cart. He was part of a package deal that Farmer H made at the auction. Even back then, he was old. I did not expect him to live long. My lilacs and rose bushes must have some medicinal properties. Because Longhorn was the first one to go after them when let out of the pen.

I was leery of Longhorn from the beginning. He was a nondescript dun color, with LONG HORNS. Get it? You can't think we're clever at naming these critters. I worried about The Pony going into the pen to feed and water the goats, or look for the babies. One of those horns could have easily pierced The Pony's frail chest. Because an animal will always be an animal, no matter how tame you think they are. But Longhorn never went rogue. He was a gentleman until the end.

When the mommas had their babies, Longhorn acted like a nanny. Get it? Nanny? Goat? That's a little farm humor for you. But seriously. That old wether was quite a nurturer. Better, in fact, than a couple of the new mommas, who walked off from their babies for food, and kind of forgot where they were. But old Longhorn stood over them and stomped his feet at Tank the beagle sniffing around.

Farmer H has been kind of sad. He's the one who discovered Longhorn Thursday evening. I'm glad it wasn't The Pony. He's tender-hearted. Farmer H said today that maybe he did something that led to Longhorn's demise. Like letting us feed him bread once a week. I don't think so. Surely he would not have lasted two years if that was the case.

A buddy of Farmer H brought his dozer down and helped ensconce Longhorn in his final resting place. I'm not sure where it is, nor is The Pony. When I find it, we might lay a rose on there for Longhorn. And a lilac branch. They will be eaten soon enough by the rest of his ilk.

The circle of life continues. Our newest baby goat was born on Monday. We're Even Steven in the goat department.

4 comments:

Sioux Roslawski said...

A little education with the comic relief. A "wether" is a male goat?

Hillbilly Mom said...

Sioux,
A wether is a castrated male goat. We have a couple of spry young things for gettin' the business done.

Kathy's Klothesline said...

Some human mommas abandon their babies, too. They try to do it here at the kampground pool, but the mean lady in the office won't let them. Am I a wether, too? Can't be. No one is brave enough to castrate me!

Hillbilly Mom said...

Kathy,
Well, in case some superhero shows up to do the deed, remind him that a knife is not necessary. A rubber band is just as effective. Over a longer time period, of course.