The goats arrived!!!

Today marks the anniversary of the day the goats arrived here at Soul Fire Farm. It was a sunny and cool day three years ago -- truly a perfect day to welcome them in! Five little goatie girls, Nubian-Boer mix, about 12 weeks old... Of course they were frightened at first and found comfort in each other, staying bunched up in a tight herd and hiding in the tall queen anne's lace and nettles.

It took some time for us to get used to each other. Me, not being a goat and new to goat-keeping and them being in a brand new place with everything about them seeming strange and unfamiliar. The first week was spent sitting near them quietly, letting them know that I'm not a threat. We were curious about one another and they began to learn that they were safe here. By the end of that week we had named them -- Maaxx, Cinnamon, Pearl (S. Buck), Cecile and Emily, their personalities providing evidence of who they were as individuals. Maaxx, the smallest, was very vocal and the first to make contact. She would call out as if to say, "I'm here and life is good! MAAXX!!" Cinnamon's warmth, her soft, woolly coat and the color of her floppy left ear made her name evident. My daughter, Jules, named her and quickly claimed her as her favorite. Pearl S. Buck, Cinnamon's sister, having a propensity to greet us suddenly from behind with her little horns, had a name that came easily to us. Not so much for her literary prowess... Cecile, ever-the-skeptic, standing farthest back in the herd with her lips pursed as if wanting to speak yet not finding the words. And Emily, Cecile's sister, the prettiest of the bunch, whose fur bristles with uncertainty between trust and the pull of her flight instinct.

Soon they had cute little red collars with shiny brass name tags so they could be readily identified by neighbors in case they somehow got out. But was that really the reason for the collars and name tags? I realize now that I was identifying with them as individuals. Seeing them move and act as a group and now all have matching collars was only the beginning of my understanding of these girls. Although each was born as a separate being, they truly function as one. They are a herd and it's taken me a good part of these three years to get to know the entity of the herd itself. They've established an echelon -- each has a need to be treated the same as her herdmates, yet there's a definite order to who gets what when and how much. There's something more to it than your typical human group dynamic that's tough to describe in words. They are interconnected by an instinctual force that is deep within them. ...and it's a different interconnectedness than what I've observed in dogs when they run in a pack. More similar to birds with their pecking order and tendency to bunch together and move in synch with one another. Perhaps that's why a herd of goats is also called a flock.

I've learned so much from their presence in my life. The loss of Maaxx that first winter while I was away at an ecological farming conference taught my husband the importance of processing grief his own way and gave him the opportunity to create his own ceremony to honor her life and the transition that returned her to the Earth sooner than we had hoped. We were both given a crash course in caring for very sick ruminants, something neither of us had any experience in. Maaxx was a runt and hadn't developed a strong immune system. She was overtaken by parasites that had taken up residence inside the guts of the whole herd. She got the brunt of it and Cinnamon was also very ill. Maaxx and Cinnamon were being kept separate from the others in the weeks that preceded Maaxx's death. The stronger goats horribly bullied them in an attempt to cull them as if they were diseased appendages. Maaxx and Cinnamon pined for their sisters and we'd allow them short supervised reunions with the herd, but the bullying continued. Cinnamon eventually got strong enough to return to the herd full time, but not Maaxx. We gave her free reign of the garden to browse on any herb, vegetable or fruit tree she wanted in hopes of getting her enough additional vitamins and minerals to bring her back to good health. She received lots of pampering and daily visits back to the herd. In time, however, she lost interest in eating and became very weak. Yet she never lost her spirit even when she could no longer stand on her own. She couldn't even call out her own name... MAAXX! only a tiny gasp of air lifted off her dry, nearly lifeless tongue. Until the night before she died. She called out... MAAXX! pining for her herd... MAAXX! and my husband understood. So he scooped her up gently, making sure she was secure and warm in her little goat coat we had bought her to help protect her from the winter chill and he carried her down to the manger and nestled her in the straw amongst her herdmates. They stayed with her that night allowing her to be a part of them one last time. By morning she was gone.

For the next week of so, they laid on her grave, in their own way mourning the loss of a bit of their own lives. Scott and I miss her still, yet we're somehow better for having had the opportunity to be a part of her herd.

Today our herd is strong and healthy. The adoption of Paloma, an American Alpine who arrived the following winter, creating new shifts in the herd and new opportunities for each of us to grow and learn even more about goat herd dynamics. It will be interesting to see what brings the next significant shift to our herd. Meanwhile, we'll enjoy them in all their innocence and never stop learning from them.