Goat Wrasslin'

Whoever coined the phrase "Stubborn as a mule", OBVIOUSLY never met a goat.

Recently, I've had several wrasslin' matches - and several trips to the "goat rodeo".
The first involved one of our Nubian Does. Last week was time for a round of oral worm medication.

It turned into a bronco ride, the likes of which I had never seen before.
No 8 second buzzer, no arena fence, no soft dirt to land on, and no clown - except the one riding the goat.

That nanny came right up to me and sniffed the syringe to see if it was something good to eat. I figured that it was a sign that she'd volunteered to be the first victim....er.....patient.

Boy, was I wrong.....

As she was sniffing, I swung my leg over her back and got her in a headlock. Everything was fine until I put that syringe down her throat and started to push the med down her gullet.

That's when the world went into a tailspin....literally.

That slick little good natured nanny goat turned into the meanest, snortinest, orneriest, kicking bronco that I ever had the misfortune of sitting on. One minute, all was peaceful, the next, I was spinning around in circles holding on for dear life. I managed to get the medicine down her throat, then took a dive off my ride.

It took about 5 minutes for her to stop breathing fire, then she was back to her sweet little "innocent" self.

Of course, the others saw what was going on and figured that they'd clear the area before THEY got their dose. I snookered them, though, I closed the gate. Everybody else decided to give in after that - and take their medicine.

I was surely relieved....I didn't need to take another bronc ride.

Last night, we brought home three "replacement" does for one we lost in the heat. Since it was late (and dark), we put them up in the barn for the night. I figured that they could get in with the others today.

Little did I know that these three were experienced at wrestling a goat roping hillbilly.

The first one escaped from us while we were trying to close a gate in the barn. I lost control of her horn and dropped the rope in the process. The first thing she did was to head for daylight out the front door of the barn.

This was instantly deemed "not good"....

Deb stayed in the barn to open the gate, while I went out to chase the 1000 pound charging elephant - or something close to that.

We were both amazed that she ran back INTO the barn and eventually let us capture her again (by diving and clutching the dangling 4 foot rope still hanging from her neck...).

Now the fun began. I wrapped the rope around my hand and grabbed her horn. Off we went toward the other pasture, 150 yards away.

It would have been fairly easy, except that the goat decided to "play dead" most of the way. It turned into a "drag" instead of a "walk". Then, just as we were getting close to the gate, she stepped on my foot and dove in front of me.

I think it was a last ditch effort at escape because I tripped over her, going down face first onto the ground. Well, actually, her HEAD stopped my face from hitting the ground. As I lay there, dazed, she decided to use the back of her head to butt me four or five times on the chin.

Luckily, I held onto the rope, because her horn slipped from my grasp. I got up and pulled her the remaining 15 feet to the gate and shoved her through. While it was a relief when I got the rope off of her neck and turned her loose, I realized that I still had two more to do - and I already felt like I'd been round-house kicked in the face by Chuck Norris.

Number two was a relief because she went the easiest...she actually tried to RUN part of the way - all the while dragging me along. I was glad to turn her loose, too.

Number three was a different story. She is the friendliest (or WAS before this, anyway...). I slipped the rope over her head and all was fine - until I grabbed a horn.

THAT was the end of my "free ride", she decided to fight from then on. This Doe is also the largest of the three. She had no trouble playing dead and laughing at me as I tried to get her moving.

With Deb's help (me pulling, Deb pushing), we managed to get her to within 50 feet of the pasture gate. That's when she spotted....

The DOG....

She got it in her mind right there that there was NOWAY she was getting any closer to that killer animal.

We, of course, decided otherwise.

With pushing, pulling, dragging, snorting and much gnashing of teeth (and cud....), we finally got her TO the gate. Getting her THROUGH the gate required extra effort.

At the end of this round of matches, the score was Hillbillies 3, Goats 0, but the outcome was not certain until the very end.

Even though the goats lost the battle, they can take solace in knowing that the Hillbilly is now on "injured reserve"...

Hopefully, this is the last rodeo for awhile.