No Sheep in Jamaica
The Pipe and Slipper Farm is an animal preserve. We say...For all creatures great and small.
At one time The Pipe and Slipper had up to eleven or twelve goats. How we acquired the goats is another tale.
When you buy a truckload of goats you're bound to have a few that are going to have little ones. The little ones are called kids. A mother goat is a nanny or a doe. We had two nannies that delivered kids. A set of twin females and a set of twin males. The male billy goats were wild from the start up and cute as can be. Jumping in the air, chasing each other and climbing anything they could climb as they grew larger every week. We watched small horns appear which grew large then got thick and curled like the horns of a mountain goat. They used these horns to tear the fences down. All this happened within a few months. They gained weight and developed a bad odour along with a bad attitude. Goats are not good listeners. The only thing you can count on...is that a billy goat will always do exactly what you don't want it to do, it will always smell bad and have a beard that no stylist would touch. Looking into the eyes of a goat. You will notice a sinister goofy stare.
- My friend Tyler was hiking a mountain trail in South America and became bombarded by rocks from above. He looked up expecting to see some human being trying to snuff him out. He was shocked to find a pair of billy goats pushing rocks off the cliff toward him. This is sinister behaviour.
Little Joe and Maurice were the names of our billy goats. Little Joe became a giant, Maurice was only slightly smaller but a sneaky devil.
Doing our chores is usually a positive activity. Especially on a sunny March day. I was crossing the barnyard carrying a bail of hay, thinking that spring was on the way and starting to feel the warmth of the sun on my face. I heard a light pounding of hooves on the ground behind me and felt something hard as stone hit me just above the buttocks on my lower back. I was propelled forward dropping the hay as I tried to windmill myself backwards from landing in the melting stinking manure pile. I hit it with a squishy slap. I rolled over on my back in wet manure and told Maurice what I thought his new name should be. I flailed around getting back on my feet. Maurice stood looking at me with his goofy goat eyes and charged again. I was on my feet, and slippery with slime. I lifted my foot to stop him and my boot stuck between his horns. He backed up and pulled my boot off. Down I went. Back in wet manure with just a sock on one foot. I teetered my way up off the ground and out of the mess. Trying to balance on the big toe of my sock only foot, I hobbled to the house and up on the porch starting to undress outside while two cats quietly watched me through the window.
A few weeks later we went on a short vacation in Jamaica. When we arrived at our room, I threw open the curtains that faced the back garden. There was a big white goat grazing just outside our window.
I enjoyed a rum cocktail and snickered to myself. We had just walked past a cafe advertising lamb chops for happy hour. There are no sheep in Jamaica but lots of goats. Who could tell the difference between a lamb chop and a goat chop? Lol
More Tales from the Pipe and Slipper.....
Johnny LeBarr
John LeBarr Oct 2018
Sent from LeBarrs iPad
