Halloween Goat Stories
By Wayne Pike

I would like to use this opportunity to talk about goats. I might as well confess that I have not known a goat in any particularly meaningful way. From what I hear about goats, it is possible to have as personal a relationship with them as with any other animal, but it has just not been my fortune to be so blessed. I have just moved in the wrong circles to have much more than a passing appreciation for goats. Goat stories are another matter. 

My closest contact with goats has been at county fairs where a few baby goats and their mothers have been present for the petting zoo. I always assume that the goats appearing in petting zoos represent the most sociable and well behaved of their species. They seem to be very calm and the babies are so cute that you hear many people saying how great it would be to just “take one home and cuddle it”. 

My friend, Paul, got that opportunity quite unexpectedly. One day I stopped to see Paul and noticed several goats of various sizes and configurations walking around his farmyard. Not only did they walk around his yard. They walked on top of everything in his yard. In their own endearing manner, a couple goats watched me from their goat’s- nest high atop Paul’s pickup. For some reason, this goat trait seemed to especially annoy Paul, or should I say, got his goat. I stayed close to my vehicle as I told Paul that I did not picture him as a “goat person”. He explained that he had not been a goat person until he had been to the sales barn the previous week. He did not buy anything at the sale, but when he got home he found a small flock of goats in his trailer. Goats were so cheap that their previous owner considered them worth more as a practical joke than as cash.  

My brother related the following “good goat goes bad” story to me. My father was doing some chores around my brother’s farmyard this summer when he saw the neighbor’s billy goat. The goat evidently was out for excitement and did not mind walking a mile looking for it. He got his wish. Excitement was on the way as my brother’s otherwise totally useless dog caught wind of the goat and chased him into a cornfield. Dennis, the goat’s owner, was called to retrieve his goat. In a few minutes, the search was on, but to no avail. The searchers assumed that the goat had disappeared into the depths of the tall corn and would come out when he was darn good and ready.  

As it turned out, the goat had outsmarted them all. He had cleverly outflanked the search party and had made a pincers movement to get back into the yard. No doubt feeling a trifle parched from the pursuit, the fugitive goat decided to get a drink from my brother’s aboveground swimming pool. Evidently, the goat was somewhat clumsy and a non-swimmer to boot. When my brother got home and went to the house, he noticed four cloven hoofs pointed skyward in the middle of his pool. Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation efforts were not seriously considered and the goat was pronounced expired. Old Billy got his drink and, in doing so, managed to turn the swimming pool into a bowl full of three thousand gallons of cold goat soup. The parties involved are still discussing the liability issues. 

Strangely enough, my teen-age nieces chose not to swim in the pool until the goat was removed and the water was drained and replaced. I guess those girls don’t have much appreciation for goats either.

© 2004 Wayne C. Pike
 Writer  •  Teacher   • Speaker

6540 65th Street NE
Rochester, MN 55906-1911
507-251-1937