Where's Henry? (Of Waldo, Goats and Hippos)

This was not our most creative year for Halloween. I had originally considered themes from both Star Trek and Disney's Frozen, but the goat boys' growing bulk and general lack of costume cooperation led me to concede to their first choice - Where's Waldo? - after the popular storybook character who blends in with his surroundings. Guess Em and Ellie thought they could sneak in to nibble the shrubbery in our garden's "Restricted Section..." Might have been more successful if they hadn't kept shaking off their matching striped hats and dark glasses. I see you, crazyheads!!

Where's Emerson? Where's Elliot? Even as I laughed at their antics, the day weighed bittersweet as I processed sorrowful news just posted on the Cincinnati Zoo's Facebook page. Where's Henry? I imagined two hippos calling out, unanswered, confused by the silence from Henry's enclosure. Bibi's beloved mate and the father of world-famous (and quite adorable!) Fiona, Henry lost his battle Tuesday to a debilitating illness of several months. Elderly by hippo standards at 36, Henry is described as a "gentle giant" and loved waterfalls, watermelons, and afternoon underwater naps with his "bloat" (hippo for herd). Even when overshadowed by his feisty, celebrity daughter, Henry was dependable and sweet. As a sire to six hippo calves in his lifetime, he certainly left a legacy to this vulnerable species. Regrettably, Henry was indoors under veterinary care during our summer visit to the Zoo, so my memories of Fiona and Bibi are as they are now, a bloat of two.

If you've followed the roller-coaster of Fiona's story since her extremely premature birth in January, if you've rejoiced with her miraculous survival and the joyful reunion of her family this summer - then you are already mourning the loss which surely she and Bibi feel. As I chased my goats around the yard with striped hats and a camera, I wondered, how do you comfort a grieving hippo? How do you  explain why Henry is silent, where Henry has gone? 

The sun is shining. There's laundry to do, dishes in the sink, but that can wait. I think I'll go outside and play with my goats.

 

Goat Enrichment

Something I learned from following one of our nation's largest zoos is that animals in captivity are healthier when they have a variety of "enrichment items" in their habitat. These objects, designed to physically and mentally stimulate the animals, include anything the creature can jump on, climb over, or play with on land or in the water. Our favorite zoo even maintains an "Enrichment Committee" to research and provide these useful items for their animals. (I want that job!!)

Hey, what's good enough for polar bears and baby hippos is good enough for my goats!

With a limited budget, my daughters and I have located numerous enrichment items for Em and Ellie, mostly on trash day and from curbside junk piles. Old wooden pallets, aerobic steps, broken patio umbrellas - the benefit of driving a minivan is that almost everything fits in the back. If it looks like something a goat might jump on, rub against or use for shade, we bring it home.

I say Enrichment; my husband groans at yet another haul of Other People's Junk or Something Else to Mow Around. Semantics...

What could be more important, after all, than the mental health of these two adorable critters?

Strawberries...and Nanny Goats

Mmmm...nothing says summer like fresh strawberries, right? These tantalizing sweet berries are often considered an aphrodisiac - and recently we wondered - does that also apply to goats? Here's why...

A few weeks ago I was at a nearby garage sale, wandering past tables of collectible snowmen and mounds of stained baby clothes, when an unfamiliar woman approached me and interrupted my internal musings (How could any one infant ever require at least eight dozen pastel onesies??). Putting her hand on my arm (ALERT! Unwanted yard sale contact!!), this woman exclaimed, "Oh! You're that lady with the Nigerian Dwarf goats, right? You don't know me, but I've driven by your house and seen them so many times!"

High alert now - maybe she wants to buy them!! If, perchance, she shares my same life/yard sale motto (I'll buy anything for a quarter), I'm ready to offer her the pair for a mere fifty cents (negotiable, delivery included). Already I can envision my new carefree life devoid of endless hours sweeping up goat droppings, chasing them out of the garden, being butted and kicked and pick-pocketed...

My new acquaintance continued, "They're males, right? Your neighbor told me that." Wary, I nodded, ready to claim them whatever gender she preferred, but she was all smiles. Sadly, here's where it all fell apart...

"Wonderful!! You see, my daughter has four Nigerian Dwarf does, and we can't find a male to breed them with. I'd love to rent your goats for a few months, for breeding purposes. What would you charge?"

This is where I had a very evil thought. What if, I wondered, I dropped them off at her house and just didn't mention that rather painful procedure Emerson and Elliot endured some five years ago? (Don't read this aloud; goats have supersonic hearing. Even now I can still hear their agonized cries...)

We should probably never mention that horrid day again - and as the yard sale woman waited expectantly for my answer, I envisioned adorable tiny Emersons and Elliots, happily frolicking with their parents in someone else's field...I mean, what if I let them give it a try? After all, how do we know that the banding was 100% effective?  Maybe we could let them give their best effort for a few months or so, feed them bowls of hormone-enhancing strawberries...maybe by then her daughter would want to keep them, or possibly I could move and change my identity before she tried to return them...

I took her phone number, told her I'd think about it. Then I drove down the road and picked a dozen quarts of strawberries, just in case. How about it, boys? Want to play with four new girlfriends for a while?

To be continued...

Happy Place for Goats, and other small tales

Give Emerson and Ellie a choice of any spot to sleep - they'll always pick right here, soaking up the sun against the garage door. Doesn't look so comfortable to me, but these are the same creatures who munch thorn bushes like candy yet refuse to walk on damp grass...

With the blessed arrival of warm weather, Elliot's skin condition has cleared up and his hair is growing back. See you again in December, scratchy, itchy sores and horrid bald patches!

Emerson (aka "Little Skunk" these days) is up to his usual antics. Last week he sneaked up behind me when I opened the car door and gobbled a map from the seat pocket. No problem, you rascal - next time we travel upstate and I need that map to find my way home, you're the one who'll be missing your warm vinegar water while I'm hopelessly lost in the woods...

Also, he chewed a giant rip in the pocket of my favorite jacket. Sure, a marvelous pile of animal crackers cascaded from the hole, but I ended up throwing the ruined coat away. Now no garment with pockets is safe from Emerson. Got any treats in there, orange peels, anything? Let me bite through the fabric and check!

Today a friendly neighbor left a bag of dried orange peels hanging on the garage door handle for me - unfortunately the goats were outside and found it first. In a few days we'll see what a plastic bag looks like, post-goat digestion. That was yummy!

My daughter recently informed me that sauteed "spruce tips" (as in, the ends of an evergreen tree branch) are a culinary delicacy served in the finest establishments. Since the goats have been nibbling our evergreens for years, I am apt to believe her. Maybe a little garnish of poison ivy?

Ahh, goats...

Of New Jersey and Cardboard Animals...

First of all, let's be kind to New Jersey. After all, this tiny state cannot help that it leads our nation in population density and toxic waste dumps and is also the car-theft capital of the world. Try to get past the fact that New Jersey boasts the highest cost-of-living in the U.S. and remember instead pleasant things like the Miss America pageant, Monopoly, the world's longest boardwalk and fifty resort towns. Site of my favorite childhood vacations, New Jersey was once the home of  my beloved grandmother and currently hosts one of Emerson and Elliot's best friends. The goats adore my New Jersey friend, who takes them for walks no matter how hot the weather, who doesn't complain when Emerson rubs his itchy horn scur on her leather purse and who memorizes which specific weeds they prefer, all the better to pamper them...

So, nothing against the Garden State. Some stories, however, just need to be shared.

We live in an area surrounded by farmland - endless fields of corn, soybeans and wheat. Tractors, barns, and livestock are as common a sight to my family as are the subways, buses and towering skyscrapers of nearby Manhattan to my Jersey friends. On their recent visit here (right after the worst of the snow), my city friends fought their way past the enthusiastic greetings of two very annoying goats and then asked this question:

"Just up the road we passed a field full of animals standing in the deep snow, not moving, like statues. We wondered, are those decorative cardboard cows?"

Now I know what I did wrong five years ago - I should have just gotten cardboard goats!!

(And by the way, New Jersey boasts not only Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty, but is the site where the ice cream cone was originally invented. Love you, NJ!)

Winter Wear for Goats

Because with goats, you learn to improvise...

Yes, Elliot has a lovely green winter goat, all Velcro straps and buckles and just right for a goat with a wretched skin condition that causes him to lose most of his fur in cold weather. Yes, he was wearing it when I put them out to graze in the field this afternoon. 

And yes, when I looked out the window about an hour later, there was Elliot, hobbling around with one leg through the neck hole and most of the coat dragging in the dirt beneath him, all muddy and soaking wet and reeking of goat urine. 

How does this happen??

Fortunately, my husband was willing to donate one of his fleece vests to a shivering goat while I did the laundry. (Actually, once he saw Ellie wearing it, he said he didn't need it back...) Stay warm, Ellie! Even with bitter chills and a blizzard on its way, spring has to get here soon! 

Five Years Old!!

                    
                                               Happy 5th Birthday, Emerson & Elliot!

                               Awww, it's hard to remember when they were so tiny and sweet...
                                                                   Love you, boys!

Circle of Trust for Goats

Who would have guessed that goats and humans worry about the same things??

For Em and Ellie, the best part of each day is when I open the gate and take them for a walk, perhaps along the creek or in the woods, where they amble and graze while I ponder all the things I should be doing instead and how much warmer I would be inside the house. Thus hatched my idea - Maybe I could train the goats to walk themselves! After all, they never run off; I don't even use collars anymore. Dogs learn their boundaries - why not goats?

My plan seemed simple - just lead Em and Ellie to their favorite grazing area, pat them on the heads, and go back inside for some hot cocoa (keeping an eye on them through the window, of course). Sounds good, right?

WRONG!! So very, very wrong!

My main concern with leaving them unattended was that they might run off - wander into the road, head for the center of town, something like that. Now I know - this will never happen. Every time I backed away five steps, the goats moved five steps toward me, like a weirdly-choreographed dance. As soon as they realized my intention to abandon them among all those delicious weeds, panic set in. She's getting away! Catch her before she's gone forever! One time I sneaked in the front door while they were distracted, but as soon as Emerson noticed my absence he started wildly running laps around the house, pitifully crying out for me. I know you're in there somewhere!! Come back, mommy! Come back!

Since that traumatic incident, Emerson never strays more than a few inches from my side on walks, wary that I'll succeed in my quest to abandon him. It's like having a big black furry magnet glued to my leg, constantly alert to my location and movements. Kind of creepy, actually. If only they knew they have no cause to worry - if there were any way to escape from those crazy goats, I would have already found it.

"Free to good home - actually, Free to ANY home - 2 neurotic goats. One is clingy and occasionally vicious and the other has an incurable festering skin condition."  Yeah, the phone is ringing off the hook...

Swing Set to Shed Transfiguration

Under our Christmas tree this year were all the usual items - books, clothing, new cell phones, more books...I opened a cat puzzle box and a framed photo of Timothy Olyphant. (Any other Justified fans out there?) And the goats got a new house...

It started out as free lumbar, scraps discarded from a friend's old swing set. Plenty of wood for some cheap improvised shade in their grazing field - or so I thought. Two weekends, three trips to Home Depot and a hefty credit card bill later, Emerson and Elliot now have their own "summer cottage" complete with brand new siding, a shingled roof and multi-level interior.

On their first day out there, they ignored all the weeds and gnawed four shingles off the roof. This is why I love goats...Now if only my husband could build a time machine and send them off into the future! (Anyone else have a swing set to give away? Always worth a try.)