There is a goat in our living room. A 3-month old goat. She was outside, waiting in the alley of our house waiting to be transported to her new backyard home a couple of miles away at a friend’s house, but she was clearly lonely and started to bleat as soon as people walked away. We named her Wendy, and I think she is still terrified of us, but she likes eating alfalfa hay from our hands as long as she’s in the kennel where she feels safe.
Hubs really wanted a goat. Like really wanted a goat. Almost as much as he wants a pig – which we haven’t seen at auction in weeks, no idea why. So we got the goat. Within 10 minutes that goat was really stressing Hubs out, since she was a walking invitation for someone who hadn’t heard that she was only here temporarily to call code enforcement. Especially since goats sounds a lot like strange crying people; they lack the vibrato that a lot of animals have making them sound less human and more animal.
As much as I love getting new additions to the farm – remember, I bought a duckling that was supposed to be a pet and that other time I brought home a momma cat and her 3-3 week old kittens, and that time we ate 1 duck and got 4 pullets to replace that single duck? My animal math is bad. I’d like our animals to have tons of space and we never crowd them on purpose like in commercial ventures (which we are so far from in so many ways) but our enthusiasm and spontaneous purchases sometimes results in some tight quarters around here – or goats in the living room and ducklings, quail, or chickens in the nook.
I have slowly accepted that except for the breeding rabbits (whose population is kept in check by the semi-regular crisped bunny cooked in coarse pepper and sea salt), we have basically reached our max capacity for critters. We will be acquiring a hive of bees in the near future, but that is a different sort of animal. One day we will have the room for goats, somewhere. Probably not here, and we will probably farm more than part-time whenever we have livestock larger than our torsos, but hubs has learned the lesson of crying kids in the urban landscape, and that may not be the way to keep the rest of our not-so-in-line-with-code urban farm living.