I love goats. Wait… what I mean is that I find them amusing and aesthetically pleasing, not that I literally love them. But yes, I am a goat lover. In my experience goats are sweet natured animals that are brimming with personality —so when I unfolded the NY Times and saw this headline, I perked right up:
How I Learned to Love Goats
Above it was a big picture of a goat looking into the camera. Ha! Look at the goat. And above that was the name of the section: Dining.Whoa! That headline didn’t say Goats, it said Goat —and the story was all about appreciating the flavor of goats not their adorable behavior.
I was dumbfounded. How could someone kill and eat one of these lovely animals? That would be like eating a dog. But according to the article, more people worldwide eat goat than any other meat. And I must admit, as a dedicated carnivore some of the recipes do look intriguing. But no, I’m not going there.
There’s no explanation for why goats hold sway over me. Cows, sheep, chickens, pigs? No problem. Goats? Never.
I dream sometimes of a home with a little land where there are no neighbors breathing down my neck. It would be wonderful to sit outside in the morning and drink my coffee and greet the day with the goats.
(You can read the article here. The online version includes the word Meat in the headline.)
You can “greet the day with the goats” and at the end of the day, kill one and have food for a week. You can become more self sufficient. With solar and wind power, your own water, and all the goat you can eat, now that would be the life!
Well, the “Five Hour Goat” does sound good: http://tinyurl.com/c2wjlb
We used to own goats. I watched as one gave birth. The kids were cute. I watched the mother and one kid die. Not so cute. I built a four foot fence to keep the goats in. They jumped over it. I built a five foot fence. They jumped over it. I built a six foot fence. That kept them in for the most part. Forget about greeting the day with the goats. The minute you step out of the house, they will make more noise than the kids walking around your neighborhood with half their crack showing above the top of their pants. We finally got rid of the surviving ones. Now my daughter wants more. The doctor down the road raises a thousand goats every year. He lets the babies graze all summer and early fall, then sells them to be eaten in NYC restaurants. I think he has the right idea.
Like many things, it sounds like the idea of having goats is very different from the reality of having goats.