I
t’s been nearly a year since I introduced Faith, Bella, Diva, and Zeus, four cashmere-bearing goats, to my backyard. Fellow goat owner and Spin. Off ’s copyeditor, Katie Banks, helped me transport them. She took one look at my new little herd and said, “There is your escape artist,” pointing at Faith. She was right. Faith knows how to squeeze between the smallest gap in the gate and no halter can hold her for long. If she gets out she never goes far. In fact none of them do. I came home one afternoon and found them all sitting on the back porch. Faith is as sweet as she is smart and loves to be doted on. Bella (short for Bella Bella Goatarella) is the youngest. She is a sweet little girl, and Diva tends to knock her about any time Bella gets attention or when Bella looks at Diva funny or even when Bella dares to breathe. This might have something to do with the fact that in their previous herd, Bella’s mom was the herd queen and Diva was not. Zeus, however, keeps Diva in check by making her move constantly. That is a goat power play. On the surface, raising your own natural fiber is pretty easy—though it is not for the faint of heart. You must remember that you are there for them, and that they are not there for you. Don’t expect kisses every morning from grateful creatures. It’s more like, “What the heck took you so long? And where is my hay?” That said, they are not without their loving side. One nudge from a soft nose can make my heart swoon—so what if it is because I have raisins in my pocket? To keep a herd, you have to have shelter, pasture, a good vet, impenetrable fencing, a few minerals, and a pile of hay. I had some training for this venture. As a child, I logged many hours shepherding chickens; in college, I studied wool science in New Zealand; later I ran after goats on the Navajo reservation and worked as a barn girl on an alpaca ranch. However, I have never had a herd of my own. Being who I am—a softie, save-the-world type—I went out and found some prob-
112
Spin.Off
■
spinoffmagazine.com
Raising Cain b y
Liz Gip so n
Illustration by Benjamin S. Clarke
lem goats. My plan was to find goats culled from a herd of show goats. Diva was not named for her disposition, but she grew into the name. Zeus, my wether (a neutered male), got into the grain bin when he was a kid and almost died from bloat—goats will eat until they die. He has never gotten over that experience and is fixated on food more than even the normal total fixation that goats have on food. And he is a bit on the defensive side, meaning watch his horns. Faith and Bella are innocent bystanders who have to live with these two grumps. At one point, I divided the pasture in half after Diva became so aggressive toward Bella that I feared for Bella’s safety. I put sweet goats on one side, grumpy goats on the other. But goats are herd animals by nature, and they don’t like to be separated. I felt Bella was in a codependent relationship with Diva. She just kept coming back for
more. So in came the animal behaviorist. That’s right, I got my goats a therapist. Aimee Sadler was recruited by the Longmont (Colorado) Humane Society to help rehabilitate animals that are having behavioral issues. I found her through a friend who used to run a mobile dog training service. Aimee admitted she knew nothing about goats but was willing to give it a try. After sending her a long list of my goats’ behavioral issues, Aimee appeared on my doorstep. She had me talk through the issues again—it was beginning to dawn on me that perhaps I was the one being trained here. Then we went out into the pasture to see how I manage the herd. Well, it turns out, I don’t. Within ten minutes of going into the pen, Aimee had me working with the goats in a way that transformed their behavior. It seems that dog training methods work perfectly on goats. After Aimee left, Diva pouted for an entire afternoon. The next day I went into the pen and she leaned against me, looking up into my eyes with the most loving expression. I anthropomorphized this to mean, “I’m sorry for being such a bully.” Later I came to understand that I was the new competition and that by leaning on me, she was trying to get me to move. That goat was manipulating me! Bella is still last in the pecking order, but the other day I caught Bella and Diva appearing to give each other little kisses. It turns out they were eating the hayseeds from between each other’s horns, but the point is that they were interacting with fondness toward one another. Diva still tears after Bella, but it is not with murder in her heart. Oh, and the fiber. It’s coming. By the time this issue is in print, I’ll have combed out the goats and be wallowing in down, and, er, guard hair. Because the fiber really is the point, right? z Liz Gipson is a wife, weaver, spinner, dyer, knitter, editor, Nordic skier, friend, cat lap, local-food seeker, shepherdess, author, and TV cohost. The order depends on the day. She blogs about her goats and fiber at www.cashmerekid.blogspot.com.