Epiphany

No, I’m not talking about the holiday kind that we just celebrated, I’m talking about the “wake up and smell the coffee” kind of epiphany. The kind that kicks you in the pants and makes you wake up in the night.

The kind that aren’t so good.

Yesterday, as I was feeding the animals, it suddently occurred to me: Ernie and Bert are not pets. They are livestock. And I mean that in all seriousness. Perhaps that occurred to YOU, but to ME, it has taken a couple of jabs to the face with horns, being jumped on as I bring hay into the pen, countless bales of wasted hay, and many hours of repairs to realize this.

I remember the cute little babies we brought home, who answer to their names, cute “smiley” faces and how they bounded over when I called them. And they still are that, to some degree. But they are also large, they will soon weigh more than I do, if they don’t already. They have large horns, and they know how to use them to get what they want. They go on only instict to get what they want most: food. They tear up anything that stands in their way.

And they are becoming less and less endearing. And I wonder why I ever thought they were going to stay endearing?? I look at Cindi, and I hope that she always stays little, petite and sweet. And she may, as she is a doe, and should always be handled. But wethers, they are just not pet material.

THIS is why I blog. THESE are the conversations I need to have with myself if I will ever reconcile farming. I need to have these epiphanies and talk them through. It is such an adjustment for me. It is one that I want to make, and that I am ready to make. But I don't know how to do it, other than to learn as I go. And that's what I am doing, and that is why I decided to blog. I wanted a record of my thought processes and my epiphanies-- good and bad.

I am not saying that Ernie and Bert will be sold or slaughtered. After all, they are the farm spokesgoats! But as I was reading on an online livestock board recently, I took offense at a woman’s comments about how “wethers should only be one place: the freezer.” I am rethinking my offense at her advice—they can be dangerous, and they are too large to be pets, even the one with great personalities.

Part of the problem is that they have been inside all winter. We let them out when we can, but as long as the neighbor’s dogs are loose, we can’t be sure that they won’t be in harm’s way (at least all day long when we’re not here). The paddock fence has been reinforced, keeping them in mind. We had hoped they could go out during the day into the paddock with Joe. However, watching Joe jump the fence like a gazelle, and Ernie and Bert slip through between the (reinforced) gate and gatepost has only underscored that we need to be here when they are out. (And that we need better fences.) We will be getting better fences this spring, and may fence off a new area just for the goats. But until then, they must stay in the barn the majority of the time. And I can’t blame them for trying their escape tactics when they are cooped up all day. However, this has been good—it has revealed to me the exact sentiment that I was hoping I would someday feel: babies are cute, but you can’t keep them all as pets.

Maybe there is hope for us someday to get that beef steer… I don't think we're ready to eat Ernie and Bert, but maybe a steer.