Never Trust a Goat with Yellow Eyes

When I was a child, my parents, younger brother and I lived for a time on a farm far back in the woods. Trees and bushes and thickets surrounded our house and barn. This is the same place that had the long driveway which was a good race track for a black horse and me. Anyway, my dad got the idea that the way to clear our land of some of the undergrowth was a goat. He was going under the assumption that a goat will eat most anything.

One day before leaving for town, Dad gave me instructions to move the goat from the place where it was tethered to a new spot of overgrown land so it could get on with its mowing duties.

I approached the goat, telling him how wonderful his new grazing area would be, and loosened the rope that was attached to a tree. I don’t believe the goat fully understood because when he felt the rope go slack as I untied it, his one thought was Freedom! His yellow eyes  glinted and he took off cross-country. Instead of leading him, that goat dragged me. He shot through sumac thickets, with me flying along behind. He bounded over blackberry bushes, oblivious to the thorns. The goat bolted and I stumbled, my hands clamped around the rope. I hung on only because I was too stubborn to let go. Besides, I could imagine the look on Dad’s face if I let the goat escape. The belligerent billy had his eye on the barbed wire fence surrounding our land. If he could clear that, he’d be free! I imagined that crazed animal sailing over the fence and disappearing down the road. With a desperation born of panic, I veered toward a sturdy-looking tree. As the goat paused, preparing to sail over the wire, I wrapped the rope around the tree, tied a knot and the wild flight stopped. The goat calmly went back to munching as if that particular bit of woodland was what he had in mind all along. I, sweating, panting, scratched and bleeding, lurched back to the house. My head was bloody but unbowed. I had won the Battle of the Billy.

Baby goats are cute and lovable but when they come of age, I want nothing to do with them, especially if they have yellow eyes. At best they are unpredictable and at their worse, downright mean!

Manos Mysteries