"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.

A CALL FOR ACTION

I'm taking name suggestions for our three male goats. The more creative/controversial the better. If I get enough good ideas, I'll let you vote on the best ones with one of Blogger's polling gadgets. Otherwise, they're going to end up being named something easy like Moe, Curly, and Larry. Make 'em interesting, like your three favorite presidents, or Jeff Goldblum characters' names.

"Man in the black pajamas."

Scott and I laced up the work boots and went to town on the jungle this afternoon. Solved the creek channel problem, uncovered some fencing from under the deck, sawed some trees, rearranged brush, relocated some cinder blocks, and built a shelter. At some point during all that, some good ol' boy delivered two truckloads of wood to smoke our pig over. So now there's a 5 foot high wall of stacked wood surrounding the pit. That's a lot of wood.

Notice the brilliant combination of form and function in this low budget example of Minimalist architecture. Holla at ya boy Ludwig, reppin' the "Less is Mo'." Unfortunately, it' will only be on display for the public temporarily. The cinder blocks will be placed around the pork pit, and the "Free Palestine" rally-goers want their sign back. (This particular side reads "Tear down this wall!" It took Taylor about 15 minutes of exposure to start yelling his new favorite phrase. Pretty funny.) Next week we'll have to build a more stable structure. Assuming no tornadoes or Palestine haters sweep through the backyard, this baby should last the weekend.

The creek channel issue was resolved by jamming the frat dumpster salvaged wood horizontally above the water. It's got enough space for higher water and your everyday flotsam to pass under, but no goat's gonna go through the trouble. It isn't like this place is Alcatraz. They should perfectly content chilling in our back yard.

The deadline for the fencing to be ready to go is tomorrow around 9:45 AM. It shouldn't take long though. Under the deck and entangled in English ivy, we unearthed several bundles of black plastic fencing and a dozen stakes. Scissors work fine on shaping the fencing to size, so that chore shouldn't take more than an hour. Plus, in an exchange for a ride home, our buddy Archie donated a bag of zip ties to the cause. Another friend, Hans, is lending his SuperSize dog crate to help in the goat transportation process. "Friends like these, huh, Gary?"

I meet Miss Charlie tomorrow morning around 10:30 to pick up these three dudes. To date, our total cost has amounted to zero dollars. All salvaged or stolen goods with the help of only a rusty old saw. Good practice for 2012. The goats will be our first cost. Miss Charlie set the rate at a buck a pound. With each goat weighing at most 45 pounds, the most expensive scenario is under 150 bones, or clams, or whatever you call them. Not bad for a mute landscaping crew. I'll keep a running tab on the operation and compare the total cost to the crew alternative. Interesting to see how much cheaper it will be.

Several family members have expressed interest in investing in my goat venture. Word's gotten loose within the family tree that $20 bucks up front will get you a couple of pounds of prime goat meat for the freezer come Christmas time. Now I've got eager calls coming in from uncles and aunts, and Grandpa claims Uncle Al is willing to outbid all competitors. I'm hoping the Thanksgiving table turns into a livestock auction and I end up looking like a miniature CSA. "Goat farmer" on the resume?

Tomorrow, you'll see goats. Until then, this should tide you over.

Goat Toy

If our goats are anything like these badasses, this 3 sided compost pile and fallen tree should provide some entertainment.