Goatless :(

The world is slowly and steadily turning green again. The broccoli, lettuce, peas and kale I started in the greenhouse a week or so ago are all sprouted and putting out their first leaves. We put 200 strawberry plants in the ground this week and I planted another 25 at my boss' farm. Our local pair of barred owls have begun renewing their vows, and I heard the first spring peepers last night. Despite all of this wonder, I'm in a melancholy mood at the moment. Today we put Banjo and Yoda in the back of a virtual stranger's truck and watched them drive away. What started as a flippant, half-hearted remark online ended up in our goats getting a job as groundskeeper at a local mechanical shop.

Banjo has been with us close to four years, and Yoda (Yoda Lee, to be precise) joined the ranks almost exactly two years ago. As much as we loved them and enjoyed their company and the amusement they provided, we were always aware that our setup was not really ideal for goats. We have no fenced in pasture and barn and were making due with tie-outs and free ranging. Our young fruit trees, flower beds and patience have often suffered because of this. It was during one of those moments of tried patience, right after Yoda had eaten my crocuses and the irises I had planted not 30-minutes before, that I jokingly advertised a cute goat free to a good home on Facebook. The next day a friend of mine called to ask if I was serious about the desire to find another home for Banjo and Yoda because he knew someone in need of a goat to keep the fenced in area around his shop eaten down. The old billy goat that had filled the position for many years had died and now the guy was looking for a replacement. Out of curiosity, I went by to check out the place and interview the prospective "employer". It turned out to be the guy we buy our propane from, and not only does he love goats and promised he would never dream of eating them (a definite deal breaker), the goats would get to spend their winters at his sister's farm with a pony and some other livestock. It was hard to argue that it did seem like the best thing for everyone involved.

So, as I write this tonight, I'm grateful for the rain that seems to echo my mood and allows me to forget all about nibbled flowers and mutilated branches (there's always the deer to carry on the tradition) and remember instead Banjo's heartsick wails when he was left behind or his death defying leap out of a second story barn window. I'll remember all of the long walks in the woods and how Yoda, who grew up to be a midget, would saucily test her head butting skills on unsuspecting hound dogs (a game which Lily loved and Wilson will surely not miss). And I'll look forward to the next time our propane tanks need to be filled and I get the chance to say hello to a couple of old friends.