Here's the trip report I submitted to the Wasatch Mountain club for our hike today:

It was a clear day above the Salt Lake haze and there was no wind to speak of. We had eight at the gate and were joined by 2 others along the way. With four goats and three dogs we had a total of 17 heartbeats. Several were snowshoeing and several were cross country skiing. We made it a bit past the big curve at the Mt Aire trail head before turning around at five. It was a relatively warm day, only taking a chill as we rounded the big curve and headed into the shadows.

We took an easy pace so we could chat along the way. There were not so many dogs as last week, so the goats were more relaxed. This week Mikey carried 50 pounds just for the practice while Diego pulled the sled.

Some enjoyed the goats while others enjoyed the attention the goats got along the way. All had fun and we didn't have to have a Donner party.

We are hoping the weather will hold out to continue the hikes on a weekly schedule. We will tentatively plan to make the hike sun or snow, but will likely cancel for rain. Goats are susceptible to hypothermia when wet, wool shrinks and I don't want them to get smaller. Watch the calendar.

Phil and I were in a music store one day when the proprietors, Mr. and Mrs. Harkins told us the side-splitting story of

Norge and the Flaming Butt

Mr. and Mrs. Harkins used to be ranchers, and one of the more interesting characters on their ranch was Norge, a big white billy who roamed freely about the place. Norge liked to potter among the farm buildings and follow the hands around as they did the chores. Aside from his billy goat stink, he was a harmless character who mostly provided comic relief around the ranch.

Mr. Harkins was just sitting down to lunch one day when he saw a strange thing through his large kitchen window. Tom the ranch hand was out in a distant pasture, sitting on the roof of his truck. What on earth would Tom be doing on top of the truck? He was just sitting there. Mr. Harkins wondered if Tom's truck had broken down and decided to drive out and see what the trouble was. This is what had happened:

Tom had loaded the tools in the truck bed and had headed out that morning to mend fences. As usual, Norge followed the truck. Tom was a heavy smoker and Norge was addicted to cigarette butts, so wherever Tom went, Norge was not far behind, gobbling up the discarded butts. Tom had gotten out of his truck to repair a broken wire when he got careless and forgot to tamp his cigarette out on a fence post before tossing it to Norge. Norge ate the still-smoldering butt and OUCH! It burned!

Norge was convinced that this must be Tom's idea of a sick practical joke. Tom must be punished! Norge went to the attack, ramming Tom with both horns, almost knocking him down. Tom scrambled to get out of Norge's way, but Norge was quick and began to hook Tom's clothing with his horns. Tom tried to beat the big goat off with his fencing pliers, but Norge was bigger than Tom and had horns--he wasn't afraid of a sissy little pair of pliers! Tom tried to climb into his truck to get away, but Norge blocked the door. Tom was in danger of losing his coveralls when he vaulted over the tire and into the bed of his truck. Norge stood his front feet up on the tire too and looked as though he might jump right in after Tom. Tom made sure the tailgate was up, then, as the big goat was leaning menacingly over the side of the bed, Tom decided it would be safer on the roof. He crawled up there and hollered at Norge, trying to get him to move away. But Norge's tongue was still burning from the careless butt and he wasn't ready to forgive Tom.

Tom looked longingly toward the house, wondering if someone over there would see him and how long it might take for a rescue party to come. He waved his arms and yelled, hoping someone would notice him. He got down and kicked at Norge's upturned face, hoping to fend him off a little so he could jump down and climb in the truck. This just made Norge more angry. Tom thought he might be able to jump down and climb into the truck on the passenger side, but Norge was quick and looked like he would make it to the door before Tom could get in. Besides, Tom was no spring chicken any more, and the ground looked very far away. Tom decided not to risk it. He sat down on the roof and waited. He had a smoke and tamped the cigarette out carefully before tossing it far away from the truck. Perhaps Norge would go fetch it. But Norge was in no mood for cigarette butts. In fact, the gesture seemed to make him angrier, so Tom decided not to toss any more butts.

It was about an hour before Tom saw Mr. Harkins' truck lumbering across the fields toward him. Relief washed over him as Norge ran off to greet Mr. Harkins. Tom climbed down from his perch and quickly jumped into the cab. Thankfully, Norge had had enough of Tom and was content to follow Mr. Harkins back to the barns. Norge eventually forgave Tom, but ever afterwards Tom was very careful always to tamp out his cigarettes before tossing them to the goat.

Cuzco has had to put up with a lot today. Our cat, Patches, just came into heat for the first time, and the neighbor's tom came to call. They hit it off right away and the tom has decided to take up residence for the time being. Cuzco endured their endless purring, trilling, teasing, and cuddling with what appeared to be long-suffering embarrassment. But when Mr. Tom decided to make his move, Cuzco leaped to his feet in righteous indignation! Like a white knight riding to his lady's rescue, he pounced on the amorous intruder with a lightning-fast jab of the horn.

His love-making interrupted, the hapless tom leaped away from Patches in alarm and streaked under the blanket hanging by the back door. The second time around, he decided it would be safer to go for the quick pounce, and he flew out from his hiding place and landed squarely on top of Patches, hoping to get the job done before Cuzco noticed. But Cuzco was only pretending not to watch! He charged back into the fray and dispatched Mr. Tom with another vicious blow to the ribs. The mood was irreparably damaged by the second interruption, and Patches and Tom both retreated to separate sides of the porch until Cuzco should retire to his shed.

My daughter is amazed how many people don't know that they are goats...

"What is that?"
"It's a teenager... she's my daughter. Oh you mean those..."

"What do they carry in the packs?"
"The remains of the last person who asked."

"What do they eat up here?"
"The stuff they carry in the pack."

"Are you going up the mountain to camp?"
"We've been camping in the city, we're finally going home."

"Do they drink water?"
"No, they absorb it from the air through those straws on their heads."

"Why do they have square eyes?"
"To keep them from rolling down the hill when they plop out."

"Can they pull like a dog?
"They.. like ..can, but I don't think the dog would appreciate it.

Thanks... I needed that today

I second that...I love the silent ones...you know..those that just give you the strangest looks, quickly look away, slightly run...you know they are thinking CRAZY! I like that best!

I usually attract a crowd when loading and unloading, ... Larry picked up a plastic bag...

One lady who probably worked as a checker somewhere smirked and asked "Do your goats prefer paper or plastic?"

"Either one is fine, they are bi-sack-tual. "


No.. I didn't let him eat it.

i love all the stories! i cant wait until i have some stories to tell! here is the on i have so far, it is what i imagine them saying:

milky way: what do you want!
moonbeam: some feed
milky way: NO! its MINE!
[she butts moonbeam]
moonbeam: fine i'll eat some hay
milky way: NO! thats MINE!
[milky way starts eating hay]
moonbeam: fine i'll eat some grass
milky way: thats MY grass! go eat your own!
[milky way starts eating grass. moonbeam eats her own grass]
*a few minutes later*
milky way: what are you doing
moonbeam: eating some feed
milky way: NO! thats MY feed!
.......


and the circle continues...
ha ha ha!

My boys have the same conversation. I have a 4 goat feeder and 3 goats. My slim alpha boy spends more time defending his hay than eating it. My runt is a good size boy and fast on his feet. The alpha pushes him around so he grabs hay on the run. He could careless which hole the hay comes from. My porker goat stand with his head in the hay hole and does not come up for air until the hay bin is empty. The alpha boy does not bother him. You would need heavy equipment to get the porker boy's head out of his hay hole.
The Oberpacker boys.

nanno: i love that flaing butt story!
bob jones: i know what you mean! everyone thinks mine are weird sheep! sheep!!!!

ya, my moms dog is like that with the dog toys. he never played with any so we stopped buying toys for him, but when my sister got a puppy we got a bunch. he was so mad! he would gather up all the toys and just lay on the living room floor guarding them. the only game they got out of them was the puppy trying to get a toy from the old turd! lol!

I was caught speechless.

"Are they fainting goats?"

So many pictures ran through my mind simultaneously that I did not have the synaptic capacity to control my mouth and tongue.

You are happily packing along when the pollen in the air triggers the allergic reactionary sneeze. Being a signal of danger to the goats, they all collapse. Now as they awaken at different rates, the rustling of back packs as each goat tries to stand up from a prone position triggers another mass collapse... and we haven't even got out of the parking lot yet.

The crowd gathers, laughing hysterically. Each goat that awakes promptly faints again. You have the goat version of impersonating pop corn popping.

Yeah, they're fainting goats.... that's a real good idea.