"3000 years of beautiful tradition."

Because this blog's theme is centered around raising goats, I'll limit my report of the 2nd annual Cochon de Lait to a photo album and captions. But you could easily write a lengthy essay. A weekend for the books, to say the least. (Special thanks to the party paparazzi for donating their pictures. Photographers are cited beneath their pics. Feel free to send me more.)

The goats officially had their first "human interaction" this weekend. Saw that one coming. With somewhere in the ballpark of 100 people out back, they got plenty of exposure all day and night. They seemed to tolerate the entire ordeal fairly well though. They received a lot of attention from curious partygoers just interested in the fact that their were goats in the backyard. Others succeeded in rounding them up and putting t-shirts over their front halves. Give Willy credit for thinking up the "Eat Mor Pig" spoof on the Chik-fil-A cows. The goats didn't seem to care. Just kept kept on munching.

Another fiasco came when Millie, a visiting housedog from Cajunland, decided to test the goats' recreational value. My herd defended itself nicely, headbutting the old pooch before retreating to high ground. It's good to know the boys can throw down when they have to. Never know when an ambitious coyote or neighborhood poodle will need a beat down.

Lastly, Sunday afternoon I got a call saying one had escaped again. I use the term "escaped" loosely, because I honestly think they're too dumb to understand the idea of an enclosure. He simply put too much weight on my makeshift fence when leaning on it to reach some overhanging privet. The fence bent over and he walked over it to get more food. Apparently, it never left the area. Just sat there and ate. Much thanks to Taylor for goat wrangling. 15 minutes of fence mending and we were back in business with a superior, reinforced fencing solution.

It's beginning to become clear that there's not an exploratory trait in goats like there might be in a dog or cat. They're just interested in the next plant to dominate. Ultimately, that's good news for an urban goat owner. If they get out, it's just to eat the neighbor's plants. Not to chase the mailman.

Pictures and observations on their eating accomplishments are on the way.

"You want a toe? I can get you a toe."

5:45 AM, time to start the late shift for the pig. It's a chore to keep my eyes open and fingers typing, so pardon the brevity. Just come and getcha some pig. Some of the 200 lbs of Cajun-cooked pig that's been spinning over a 3 x 7 foot fire for the past 12 hours. Pictures and details to be posted soon.

"He's a good man. And thorough."

We just recently had our first two episodes of unexpected goat drama. Not to toot our own horns, but I think we mopped up the mess pretty quickly for 5 goat noobs.

Farmer Charlie wasn't kidding when she equated these goats to escape artists. The little rascals squeezed through a hole no wider than their bodies where the hog wire fencing meets the much taller wooden fence. Luckily, Dusty, Taylor, and Willy all pulled into the driveway before the goats had a chance to wander out of the side yard and into view of malicious dogs and law-abiding citizens. Crisis averted and lesson learned.

Our white dude with horns was feeling a little under the weather Monday afternoon. I don't want to get too graphic, but in case one of you out there is a prospective goat owner, a little detail might be beneficial. Big Al, we'll call him, was having trouble digesting something he ate. A quick google of "My goat's throwing up. What do I do?" turned up Doctor Dan's solution of baking soda. Sure enough, a pan of Willy's baking soda and hay later, Big Al was back to normal and enjoying the back yard.

In other news, I'm concerned with the number of mosquitoes swarming around goats. Rubbing some hardcore deet product from the bottom of my hiking backpack seems to be a temporary fix, but Big Al is the only goat okay with me getting close enough. Looks like I'll be fighting a silent war of attrition against the avian blood suckers. Here's my first two moves:

1. The local fire station gives out free larvae-killing brickettes to put in standing water. There's a half a donut's worth dissolved under the uprooted tree stump and two more on deck should I find any more stagnant sources of evil.
2. Remember the nasty tube you squeeze on the back of your pet's neck to protect against fleas, ticks, etc.? I picked up a generic pack of three for large dogs and wolves at Tractor Supply the other day. Again, Big Al's the only one cool with that much contact. The other two just made Mark and I look stupid chasing them all around the yard. Their treatments will have to wait until I can corral them up on the bridge.

"Now that's f*ing combat."

Our three goat eating machine took a break yesterday to provide a little entertainment. This hornless guy has proved himself the best climber, scrambling up the downed tree trunk to munch on some English ivy. He looked pretty nimble up there, even when squeezing around a thick vertical limb.

The bridge seems to have become the goats' favorite hang out when they finally get bored of chewing. Usually, they'll all three lay down and nap at the highest point on the bridge, up against the entrance to the patio. Yesterday, however, the three got into a pretty intense game of King of the Hill. It was no Battle at Kruger, but it still reminded me of a Discovery Channel special on highland rams. The little guys would raise up on both hind legs, swing their heads down and around to get some momentum, then gently butt heads with each other, backing the opponent down the bridge before scampering back to the high ground to do it all again. The entire ordeal lasted about 15 minutes, plenty of time to call additional spectators out of the house to watch.

The goats are pretty fascinating to watch. The back deck has turned into a viewing platform of sorts, with house guests and residents forming an ever present audience. If livestock sociology were offered as a course, we'd certainly have a leg up on the competition. Rarely do the three brothers get separated. Individually, each goat appears to wander randomly from plant to plant. But, as a whole, they never get farther apart than a couple of yards. Other times, they'll gang up on a patch of horseweed and go to town for a few minutes, only to have their interest caught by a neighboring weed.

Judging from the scorecard in yesterday's tag team matchup, there doesn't seem to be a distinct aggressor or alpha male. All three got in the mix and appeared to hold their own. One in particular, all white with horns, had an impressive take on an Albert Haynesworth swim move. And, just like Big Al, he wasn't afraid to play dirty when things got physical. Horns up under the belly and kicks to the side. If you're not cheatin', you're not tryin'.

Goats goin' to work.

I'm justifying putting up this embarrassing picture with the fact that it gives a human scale to the plants around him. A necessary evil.

Again, here's some more if you're really digging these goat pictures.

Miss Charlie's Goat Farm

Some goats under the barn

Ray misbehaving

Notice the blood on Andy's forehead. Wrangling up goats in tight quarters got real in a hurry.

Miss Chuck's pastoral views

Here's a few more, if you're interested.

"And a good day to you, sir!"

What a day yesterday was. Started around 7:00 AM with a biscuit and gravy from the dining hall, then off to the Dougie House to do some last minute repairs to the fence. I got rained on briefly, but there's enough trees on the property to make light sprinkles bearable. There must have been some fraternizing last night, because I think I spooked a few co-eds while working close to the downstairs windows. The unnamed pack of females emerged from the basement, wished me luck with my goats, and started off on their "walk of shame." Dougies doin' work.

Met Miss Charlie the goat farmer and her husband, Andy, around 10:30. We went straight up to the barn and I got a little lesson on worming. My trio was already hanging out in a pen under the barn. After entering the pen, you pick a winner, grab him by the leg, hold on like Hell, and wrestle his head still against your hip. It looked a little something like this, only my goats didn't seem to enjoy it as much.

Once you've got their head in a People's headlock, they chill a little. But then you have to squirt some nasty yellow concoction down their throats. They make it very obvious they don't appreciate it. Struggling, spitting, and making the most obnoxious yelling noise right in your face. The Amish dude in the video above must really love on his goats, because my experience was no where near as peaceful.

Then we loaded up the goats in the back of the Jeep and talked for awhile. True to her word, Miss Chuck hooked us up with 3 feed pans, a bale of hay, and some feed. She and her husband are extremely friendly and generous and were a pleasure to work with. All in all, I dropped under $150. (I'm including the cost of a $2 lottery ticket. I haven't scratched it yet, but I'll keep you updated.)

The ride home was surprisingly uneventful. I only caught one person in the next lane laughing at me and my mobile herd, but there could have been more.

Upon arriving, Willy and Taylor came out to greet the new landscaping crew. The goats didn't seem to care much about their new friends, seeing as they didn't look up from eating until 6 hours later. Literally as soon as their hooves hit the ground, they started chowing down. If it was green, they ate it. Like watching a bunch of chubby kids hit the candy aisle. I was ecstatic.

Until right before kickoff, I stuck around and observed my goats doing their thing. They just walked around, browsing on whatever greenery that happened to be near their mouths. From what I could tell, they don't have very picky tastes. In fact, they didn't seem to have much preference from one plant to the next. One minute they'd devour half a honeysuckle bush. The next they'd be shearing a privet stalk down to 12 inches off the ground. Brought tears to my eyes. Then, however, they'd move right along to my pepper plants, and annihilate them one at a time. I'm willing to make sacrifices though.