HERDING GOATS

Our boy goat hit puberty, which sent him spiraling into mindless wooing. Mindless wooing consists of getting his head stuck in field fence and grunting at the neighbor’s girl goats. 

So I had to move him to a pasture, one field removed from the neighbor’s trampy girl goats.

Herding goats is like herding goats. They’re all over the place. So I got a bucket of feed to trick them into a new pasture. 

But then the horses hear the tink, tink, tink of oats in a bucket so they come running.

Except that Tracker, a big bully boy, hates the goats, so the goats can’t be with the horses, but before I know what’s happened, the horses—hearing that tink sound—have snuck through the open work shop door and into the barn with the goats.

But they can’t be with the goats because Tracker will stomp goats into goat paste.

So I wrangle Tracker out of the barn and into the goat pasture that the goats can’t be in because our boy goat is in love. 

While I’m wrangling Tracker, Mavis the Goat—who is related to a magician and a prison escapee—slips out of the barn through a crack, wanders over to her old pasture, jumps up on her goat house, burps up a wad of goat oats, and settles in with Tracker, the goat hater.

The other goats, envying Mavis her agency, began to probe the fences for weaknesses. I reinforce every microscopic goat exit with epoxy and rope.

In the meantime, Charlie, goat neutral horse, has been snacking it up with random goats. I chase him into another paddock, slam the gate shut, and then count the number of beads of sweat rolling down my nose.

Six hours have passed and no one is where they’re supposed to be all because one boy goat fell in love.

Linda (We All Fall Down) Zern