Humor

I foolishly thought goats were stupid. Ginger goat set me straight.

Goats school a city boy on how to keep the farm secure.

Iam a city boy, born and raised. My only animal connection was with a pet dog. However, my wife, Maureen, grew up on the third-largest ranch in Montana. Her animal history includes sheep, dogs, cats, bears, wolves and anything else on four legs. So this city boy marries this country girl and we buy 21/2 acres in the country to live on happily ever after.

Ginger goat is one of the six to eight resident goats living in what we laughingly call the back forty.

The front yard, house and fenced backyard make up the front forty.

Because yours truly was not sophisticated in the way of goats, I thought, as most city types do, that goats were just dummies that ate paper, cans, oats and hay. I attributed zero brain power to these foreign animals. Ginger goat taught me I was wrong.

Our backyard was surrounded by a chain-link fence with a gate that was secured by flipping the latch’s U-brace down over its post. My wife and I walked through that gate at least 10 times a day.

The goats were almost always congregating around the gate, waiting for us to take them to the barn to milk or feed. Ginger goat— although I didn’t notice this—was always watching us go through the gate as we’d flip the U-brace up to get out and then flip it back down to close it. It was a simple process that, on the surface of things, appeared way too complicated for the mind of a goat.

But Ginger goat was no ordinary goat. One Saturday morning, we

Humor continues from page 66 were sound asleep when, out of the clear blue, my face received a shot of goat breath. If you haven’t smelled a goat’s breath, you are truly missing out on one of life’s better pleasures.

My eyes flew open. Standing there with her face an inch from mine was Ginger goat, with her sister Lucy goat standing right behind her. Both were looking at me as if saying, Hey, wake up! It’s time for breakfast.

I jumped out of bed with my wife right behind me, and we shooed the girls outside through the kitchen, where the patio’s screen door was now lying bent on the floor.

We wandered outside and saw that the fence gate was open. “How did that happen?” we both asked simultaneously.

It appeared that one of us had forgotten to secure the latch on the gate. So I walked over to it and put the U-brace in place. Ginger goat, who by now was on the other side of the fence, came up to the gate, flipped up the U-brace with her lip and walked back into the yard.

Maureen and I traded shocked expressions. Holy cow, this goat just took us to school.

From that crazy morning on, the chain became the only means for securing the gate.

As we looked at each other, we both mumbled, “Another day in the life of the amazing Ginger goat. Who woulda thought it?”

It appeared that one of us had forgotten to secure the latch on the gate.