The neighbor's goats.

One of the neighbors has goats, as well as horses, cows, chickens, and dogs. He has a lot of property with separated pastures, so they all have ample land to roam. We knew from the beginning that he raises goats for the meat, and he slaughters them himself. Ditto for the chickens, I'm guessing.

When we hear the baby goats crying for their mothers, I try and tune it out because I'm sure that the mother is no longer in the field over there but either on their dinner table or in their freezer.

This particular neighbor is old enough for a 'senior citizen discount' at stores but looks like a 1960s hippie. He owns a lot of land in these hills, he's been here for decades, and he pretty much keeps to himself, his wife, and a few friends that visit from time to time.

If there's anything I've learned since moving to Texas, it's the simple fact that what you do on your own property is your own business unless you're putting someone else in fear of their lives or making a mockery of the Bill of Rights. With people's pets and/or animals, the state requires one to provide food and water, and shelter... this last depending on the animal-- a dog, yes; a cow or goat, no. There is nothing in the state legislature that says Thou shalt love and/or respect thy pets and livestock. And once you get outside of city limits, the rules of the countryside seem to take over... and it also seems to me that everyone writes their own rules on their own property.

So there I was yesterday, sweeping purple wisteria petals from the porch..... at this time of the year, the wisteria blooms into a huge round purple-blossomed canopy, then quickly sprinkles the ground with the petals and bursts out with green leaves that last till the first cold snap of December. I don't know what's more pleasing to the eye... the cluster-shaped blossoms or the mounds of purple 'snow' on the courtyard stones.

As I swept the petals, I was watching the neighbor's goats. One of his fields is across the road from our front field. When the neighbor puts his goats or cows or horses in that particular pasture, we can see them from our porches and watch as they graze and play. And the baby goats do indeed play, just like puppies.

A car happened to come down the road and the sight and sound of that scattered the goats away from the road towards the middle of the field. One goat didn't move, it just stayed right up close to the fence. I knew why, but I was hoping I was wrong. On my way into the kitchen, I said out loud Please don't be stuck in the fence, please don't be stuck in the fence. I came back out with the binoculars and aimed them towards the fence..... and there was the goat, with its head and horns stuck in one of the squares of the wire fencing. This has happened so many times before, and it makes me wonder why the neighbor didn't put up a different sort of fence so the goats couldn't get their heads through in the first place. The goats will squeeze their heads into the fence squares to get the sweet green grass on the other side. Once they eat all the grass in that particular spot, it's not so easy to pull their heads back out because their horns get caught.

Back into the house I went, to get my car keys and a pair of thick oven mitts that I keep for just that sort of thing-- getting the goats out of that fence. Down the road I drove.... all the while hoping that the sound of my car would make that goat give an extra pull to get his head out of that blasted fence. The goat didn't even try... he just watched me getting out of my car. I tried and tried..... just couldn't get the goat's horns to get back through the fence. My oven mitts kept getting caught on the barbed wire and I figured I was either going to cut myself or the goat, or get bitten by the goat. I don't even know if goats bite, but I didn't want to find out.

I got back into my car and drove down my hill and up the neighbor's hill. I pulled in front of his house and honked the horn, hoping he would just come outside so I wouldn't have to get out and maneuver around the various dogs and chickens inside his gate. No signs of life, so I got out of the car, was greeted by three adult dogs and two puppies as I went into the little yard and found his wife folding laundry in the outside porch. Didn't she see my car? Didn't she hear the horn honking? I told her about the goat, explained that I tried to get him out of the fence, asked her to please tell her husband that the goat needed to get free of the fencing. Thank you, thank you... I will tell him.

I didn't know if he was home or not, so on my way up my own hill, I tried again to get that goat out of the fence. Just couldn't do it. The goat was so nervous about being caught that he wouldn't stand still and I couldn't even grab hold of its horns this time. I was getting into my car when the neighbor drove down to the fence... I showed him the oven mitts and told him that I tried to get the goat out and just couldn't manage to do it. The neighbor looked at me and said "You don't have to worry 'bout that one anymore.... she's the next to go 'cause she's been stickin' her head where it don't belong since she growed up." (That phrase 'to go' meant the next one to be turned into goat stew or steaks, I'm sure.)

That comment from the neighbor made me want to leave, plus now that he was there, he could release his own goat...... I tossed the oven mitts into the car and as I was getting into the car, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the neighbor's method of releasing that goat. He took his heavy-booted foot and slammed it right into the goat's face, which stunned the goat.

I was sitting in my car at that point, completely stunned myself. It was like I could feel the neighbor's boot on my own face. In my rear view mirror, the neighbor grabbed hold of the goat's head and bent it backwards a bit so its horns could get through the square of the fence. I had started to drive at that point, saying 'oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god' along with a few exceptional curses aimed at the neighbor and his lack of humanity.

By the time I got to my driveway, the goat was out of the fence and walking slowly back to the other side of the field. In the split-second when the neighbor's boot flew into the air towards that goat, I knew not to say a word to him. That is his property, his fence, his goat. Even if some sort of agency person were called out here, by the time paperwork was filed and accusations were checked out, that particular goat would have already been slaughtered, cooked and eaten, with its leftovers ensconsced in a green Tupperware bowl. And there was no one out there by that fence except me and the neighbor and the goat. His goat. My word against the neighbor's.

This is Texas. This is the country. That neighbor isn't the only one raising livestock for an eventual trip to the kitchen table. I'm hoping that this neighbor's inhumane treatment of his livestock is an exception to the normal way of dealing with curious goats who get their heads stuck in fences.

I told my husband that I will never, never, never go onto that particular neighbor's property again. Since we've lived in this house, one or another of his goats have gotten stuck in the fencing over there. The next time, I will do my best to release the goat myself. Hopefully, the next time, my husband will be home to help. And if not, my husband suggested that I call one of the other neighbors, rather than going up to that neighbor.

Another day on the blessed ranch.