Vaya Con Dios, Goaties.

Sometimes you just have to admit defeat in life. That's what we did the other day when we decided to find a new home for our goats. I've written about the goats here.

Babba came home all red in the face after another time of trying to fix their fences. He's put hundreds of hours and dollars into their pastures and enough is enough.
But goats are goats are goats and goats
like
to
break
free.

I put an ad on feecycle and craigslist. "3 free pygmy goats. Trained to hike like dogs. Great with children. Must have goat proof fencing already. Photos upon request."

Within minutes we had a taker. I asked her if she knew what she was getting into. She'd had goats before she told me.
She was positively ecstatic about getting more.

When she came to pick them up the next day she chose to put the largest goat up front
inside the truck
and the other two in a gigantic dog crate in the back.
Only in Appalachia I thought.

It feels weird to not have goats anymore. I'm now a former goat girl.
I'll no longer be singing my goat song "dip dip dip dip dip" through these valleys and woods.
My days of lying in the field with them watching them graze are gone.
It feels good to have found them a home.
I'm relieved.
Just
like
a
goat
my
freedom
is
important
to
me.