And then there were four

By Christine Tailer
HCP columnist

“No more animals,” he said, and I understood.

The pasture is perfectly filled with two highland cattle, three sheep, and two little horses. Our two goats live contentedly in the goat yard, their house the perfect size for goat dreams at night and standing side by side in the doorway on rainy creek valley days.

I couldn’t ask for a better chicken population, not too many and not too few. The 10 girls lay about six eggs a day, more than enough for us and still plenty to give away. Even though our thirty or so white homing pigeons might number a few too many, on occasion we’ve seen a valley hawk picking off a straggler from their flights across hey valley. Such is the way of our world, and then, when our aging rabbit, Jerry, stretched out to sleep for the last time, a neighbor gave us a beautiful gray rabbit to keep our surviving bunny, Merry, company. I named the new rabbit Marry. Merry and Marry now live in a side-by-side hutch and keep each other company through the wire.

And I dare not forget our house parrots, who talk and squawk throughout the day, and are a part of our house life. They join us for breakfast, free flying about the cabin as we eat, and when the weather is warm, I push their cages out onto the front porch where they throw their seeds out to visiting buntings, blue jays, robins and doves.

All the while, our little dog bounds happily between all of these creatures. She is a lucky little dog to have so many friends.

“No more animals,” he said, and I really did understand, until I heard of a pair of goats in search of a new home. 

Their person was leaving them and heading off to college. The person’s parents were not inclined to continue to care for their grown child’s goats, so Greg agreed to stop by, for a look, but curiously my dear husband first fashioned a wire cage, big enough for two goats, in the back of his truck. He knows me well. We headed across town to the farm where the goats resided.

They were beautiful. They had lived their whole lives together and were perhaps 5 years old. One was black and white, the other white and beige. They came right up to us. They were so very sociable. 

We talked a bit, and I asked them if they like to move to the creek valley. They were not sure. They had always lived in this goat yard on the far side of town. I told them about our two goats and the goat walk we had built up on the hill. 

Greg even told them that if they were good goats, he would build them their own goat house, in case our existing goat house was not big enough for four goats. I think it was the goat walk, a series of bridges between the yard’s trees, that convinced them. They agreed to the move.

On the way back to the creek, Greg and I stopped off at the coffee shop up town, just across the street from the courthouse. I stepped down from the truck and went around to the back and reached through the cage wires to rub their heads. They looked over their shoulders at the courthouse behind them. 

Greg stepped up beside me. “Now you two understand that you currently are on probation, correct?”  

They looked at me imploringly. “Don’t worry boys, you really are coming home.”

They easily settled in to explore their new world. Our two goats danced round them, and then settled in to some nice treats beside the newcomers. Greg and I settled in on the goat walk with a cool beverage in hand. It was a beautiful evening. 

Everyone gathered around. One of the new fellows jumped right up on the goat walk for some extra loving and nuzzled Greg’s shoulder. Greg reached over and rubbed his forehead. I knew then that their term of probation had already ended, if it had ever existed in the first place. They were home, and just like that, they now numbered four.

Christine Tailer is an attorney and former city dweller who moved several years ago, with her husband, Greg, to an off-grid farm in south-central Ohio. Visit them on the web at straightcreekvalleyfarm.com.