Tails and Tidings: Good-bye, Hello

Inez, our beloved goat, died.  Last Saturday, Henry came in from his morning animal feeding chores and announced, "Inez is dead."  We all looked at each other, and started hugging, and crying a little.  I felt bad for Henry, to have to find her.  I pitied poor Tofu, our pig, who came from the shelter with her best buddy, the pretty little goat.  Geza and I, mostly stunned, dug a deep hole in the backyard, where Goat Mountain used to stand, and buried her under a tree.  The whole thing was surreal, because while it was sad, and we feared we could have prevented it and didn't, it was also very quiet.  And just, over.  She was already gone.

I remember how well she weathered the five hour drive down from Quilcene, Washington.  She and Tofu, exiting their barn in our backyard every morning made me feel like I was living in a children's book.  My heart melted when I heard our neighbor children call to her in Spanish, "Chivito, Chivito!" and melted even more when I heard their dad out there with them one evening.  And, when I came out to the backyard one afternoon to see our neighbor feeding her baby in a high chair parked next to our fence, facing our backyard, I knew it wasn't because she was admiring Goat Mountain.   Inez, who was called Wanda by the good folks at the Center Valley Animal Rescue, brought a special beauty everywhere she went, along with that special impish charm only goats possess.  Well, goats and Martin Short.   Inez taught us a lot, and we will miss her very much.
 

Emotionally, we have moved on quickly, all the more appreciative of the life we are living here, and the other creatures we get to share it with.  We wanted to be more involved with Tofu, to help her transition to life alone.  I made a little spot in our laundry room ready to bring her indoors, when I knew bad weather was headed our way.   I attempted to coerce her, through bribery and a whole sequence of hilarious physical antics (the likes of which can only be set to the music of a symphony of kazoos), involving delighted neighbor children, microwave popcorn, and ramps, to no avail.  The pig would not enter the building.  It was as if each time she cast her eyes around the dump that is my laundry room she declared, "THIS HOLE?  Not on your life!  And now, I shall gallop merrily around the driveway! Tra-la!"

So, there I sat with a straw-filled nook in my laundry room, and a feeling.  Then, I checked Facebook, as I am known to do now and then.  I read an urgent notice from Tillamook Animal Shelter, stating that, in the raging storm, two refugees came into their care.  One animal was a young pregnant dog, who could use a warm homey environment to finish out her pregnancy, have her puppies, and take care of them in their first weeks of life.  I talked to Geza and he agreed immediately.  I called the shelter, and they agreed to letting us take her in.  She is currently at my feet, snoozing and sighing as only a big pregnant mom can.  I should know.

 Now, I'm not one to get all Elton John on reader, but The Circle of Life has been scraping its way through my brain all day.  It's just too much that we barely mourn the passing of a dear animal companion, when another one blows into our lives?  Granted, this is a temporary situation.  She may belong to somebody nearby, who will call the shelter and be reunited with her very soon.  But, if she stays, and has her puppies here, we are all the lucky ones, because we were the right place at the right time for a soul who needed shelter.  That is a gift.  Who knows what the future holds, and who cares?  We have now.  We have each other.  Hug your chickens.

Tails and Tidings: How Things Got This Way and Goats

I don't want to start a fight.

You know, the old old old argument about Darwin and evolution and how everything got this way? In the interest of keeping on common ground, I'll say something humble, like: I don't think we can know it all. Learning and exploring new theories is sure a fun pursuit, but there's so much we humans don't understand about the workings of our own brain. Our brain, which is the only thing we have to understand anything else with! The folded-up futility of that notion makes me passive and drowsy.

I'm pretty sure of one thing though, if you have an opinion about evolution, you are probably getting it wrong.

First swing! Ha! You going to take that?

So, doesn't the old song go that all things want to evolve to some higher incarnation of themselves, in order that they may better survive and leave all the losers in their dust? Not according to Stephen Jay Gould, one of Geza's favorite scientists.

Many years ago, my smart, interesting husband told me, "Almost everyone misunderstands natural selection." I remember thinking, "Oh good, now let's stop talking about this." I didn't feel like being schooled. Instead I nodded and mmmd. He went on to describe something he was reading, by Mr. Gould, that sounded like a total blur at first, but slowly came into focus as I listened and thought about it. It stayed with me, and it affects the way I approach interaction with most animals, my own family included.

Let's see if I can break it down. Living things are the way they are, because the way things are works better than it doesn't work, for now. A sudden change in environment comes along and forces some traits to the outer edges of the gene pool, leaving behind the most advantageous traits, given the new situation. That's what reproduces most abundantly afterward, so that's what we see all around us. That's all.

Let me try again. Have we all seen one of these?

Pretend the pasta dough is all of the traits possible for any given species. Now, pretend the shape of the hole on the front plate is the environment. As the dough passes through the cut out, what doesn't fit is left behind and what's coming out is shaped exactly like the imposing demands of its environment. Change the circumstances surrounding the organism, and its traits change.

Living things are the way they are because of events that already happened to their genetic ancestors , not because they are striving to be more fit and thus survive better. How does this theory affect Backyard University? To Goat Mountain! (for goats only)


When we planned to get a pet goat and keep it in our backyard, we had lots of helpful friends trying to brace us for what to expect. Goats love to climb and are determined escape artists. The shelter where we adopted her and Tofu wanted to make sure we were aware of goats' hoof care needs.


I know she looks extra cute, but Inez is no different from all the other goats out there. She has needs. We, as her family, must accept that unless we want to make life more difficult for all of us. Who needs that fight?

Naturally, I started thinking of Stephen Jay Gould. I figured Inez was the way she was because of the history of the genes that brought her here.

Did you know that one of goats' persistent behaviors just so happens to aid them with a personal grooming matter? How on earth did goats get by without someone to provide farrier service for them? (That's hoof care.) It has something to do with their endless desire to put their hooves on everything and push against it.

Which came first; the handy ever-renewing hooves for climbing, or the insatiable craving to push their hooves against rocks, thereby filing them down? I don't know and I don't care. I just know I get to trim less off of my goat's hooves, less often, if I provide some little scrap of something resembling what might have been a more natural environment for her.

Granted, I don't know much about what that might really be. There are so many factors to consider and I am but a humble Spanish major. However, I have a faint hunch that our Land of Many Waters is less than ideal for hoof health. (say "hoof health" five times fast and I'll send you an apple-flavored pig treat).

We live in the muddiest town in the world, surrounded by big mountains. I'd love to move to those mountains someday, and take my goat (s?) with me. Until then, we have a mini mountain in our backyard.It was built by Geza, who personally hauled giant rocks from a nearby quarry in order to give Inez the kind of hoof-to-rock action she so richly deserves. I'll still have to trim those hooves, and Inez will never stop trying to climb everything in sight, but she seems very happy with this opportunity to put her instincts to good use.

NO KIDS ALLOWED! UNLESS YOU'RE A GOAT!

She was already giving the rouge rose bush I jammed into the top of it a run for its money when we left. She can climb it deftly and looks around from the highest spot in the yard, surveying her pig and dogs like a proud queen who just enjoyed a nice little climb. I have a feeling she'll love it, even on rainy days.