One Sunday morning I woke up and heard Wings screaming. At first I thought she wanted to get on Tug, but when I looked out the window, she was standing in the middle of the lot, screaming and staggering around. Tug was by the fence looking very anxious. It was barely light, but I could tell that there was definitely something wrong with Wings. She was in a panic. She would start to run then stop because she couldn't see. Even when I got in front of her, she couldn't see me.
I ran in the house and yelled at Jim that I was taking her to the vet and for him to call them. I drove through town with Wings on my lap screaming. She was little but she was really strong. She had one leg through the steering wheel and I couldn't turn it. Fortunately it was a straight shot down Wilbarger to the Vernon Vet Clinic. I went through 2 red lights. Doug (Matthews) was not there yet when I arrived but it didn't take him long.
He said he didn't know much about goats, but he had worked in sheep country for years and he would just assume they were the same. He told me it was probably inflammation of the lining of the brain due to a vitamin B deficiency, not uncommon in sheep. He gave her some injections and gave me some to take home. I had to give her a vitamin B shot every day for I don't remember how long. He said she might not survive, or she might might be permanently blind. She had about a 50/50 chance of a full recovery.
Then began my daily chore of giving her a shot. I hadn't realize that goat skin is about the same thickness as elephant hide. I gave up trying to be gentle and just came at her with the syringe like it was a harpoon. She got used to it, and was actually pretty good about it. Gradually, her panic subsided and her vision appeared to come back. She went on to make what appeared to be a full recovery. She was a lot tamer too, I imagine the handling (or manhandling) played a part in that.
Then there was Orphan.
One day we got a call from the Vernon Police Department asking if we were missing a goat. This happened regularly; they would go right over the chain link and through the hot wire at the top. But that particular day, everyone was accounted for.
"Well", the dispatcher said, "There's a goat tied to a stop sign downtown and if it's not yours, whose is it? Will you take it until we find its owner?"
Of course we would. Not long after the conversation, a trailer pulled up and out walked Orphan. He was not a Pygmy, not at all. He was a Nubian! He was adorable. He was much bigger than our goats. He had long ears like an Afghan Hound or a Lop rabbit. He was very tame, like a big dog. It was love at first sight. He immediately fit into our family.
He was so docile that he and Jim marched in the Santa Rosa Roundup parade that year. They were a float! Jim was dressed up like Buffalo Bill (of course) with chaps and a big floppy cowboy hat, leading Orphan. When everyone lining the street saw Orphan, they threw him all kinds of candy and other things, which he loved. But then Orphan spotted something he didn't like. He got away from Jim and started to chase this person down the street. It just happened to be the publisher of the local newspaper. He chased him for almost an entire block. I never laughed so hard in my life.
We (Jim and I) started with 2 goats, Annie Goatley and Vincent van Goat. We got them at the McGregor Ranch in Scotland, Texas.
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| Like Vincent van Goat |
Annie was fairly docile, though she wasn't what I would call tame. She was solid black. Vincent was an obnoxious chocolate brown billy goat with white stripes on his head. He had a voice that could cut glass. He was extremely wild. His favorite thing was to wait until you weren't looking, then sneak up behind you and butt you in the back of the knees, watching you fall. Other times, you could see him take aim at you and just come running. He had yellow devil's eyes. And oh my goodness he stunk to high heaven. We loved them, though, and they were great company for my horse, Sugar.
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| Like Annie Goatley |
Eventually, as such things happen, Cookie had kids. She had three, which apparently is the norm for Pygmy goats. They were all what's known as gray agouti. One was a boy and two were girls. They were adorable. We named one of the girls Cookie and the other Wings, because she had a white patch on either side that looked like wings.
The Vernon Daily Records wrote an article about them, as a matter of fact.
Eventually, we found a home for Annie Goatley and Vincent van Goat where they had more land, and we also gave away the little boy as soon as possible. That left us with the two little girls. And Orphan.
One of our baby goats had interesting markings. Like the other two, she was a pretty gray color (actually a tweedy blend of black and white called gray agouti) but she had two white markings on either side that looked like wings. In fact, that became her name. She was very cute. She had a black muzzle and black legs, but most everything else was gray. And of course, she had those wings.
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| Wings |
Wings was the smaller of the two girls. She was a little wilder, too. She really loved my horse, Tug (we had sold Sugar by then and bought Tug). When Tug would lie down in the sun, Wings would jump on his back and go to sleep. I had put a big cable spool in the middle of our lot because Tug was very tall and I couldn't get on him without a saddle. The spool was the only way to climb up on his back. Wings soon discovered this. I would hear her screaming and when I looked out the window, she would be standing on the spool yelling at Tug to come over so she could get on his back. Usually, he did just that. I was tempted to rename him America, so I could have Wings over America.
When I lived in Vernon, Texas, husband #2, Jim, and I decided we wanted to get some goats to keep my horse Sugar company. He contacted Carter McGregor, a rancher who had bought some of his paintings. Carter was a very well known horseman. He said he had herds of goats, and of course we could have as many as we wanted.
Not long after that, we went to the McGregor Ranch. He took us out to the pasture where there were literally hundreds of goats roaming around, and told us to pick a couple. We decided on a black nanny goat and a chocolate brown billy goat. A couple of Carter's hands caught them and loaded them into the back of the pickup and the deal was done. They were put in our horse trailer and we were taken on a tour of the ranch house.
It was amazing. But the thing that really captivated me was a painting of the great Thoroughbred, Native Dancer. When I asked Carter about it, he said he had something to show me. We went out to the barn and he took me to a stall where a beautiful white horse was munching hay. "That's Dancing Dervish", he said, "Native Dancer is his dad" I was in awe, I got goosebumps, and I actually petted him. I petted a son of Native Dancer. When we went back to the house, Beth McGregor and Jim talked about art and paintings, but Carter and I talked about horses.
Many years later, around 2007, I went to the local eye doctor in Aberdeen, Washington and for some reason, we started talking about horses. He told me had a couple of racehorses and asked if I ever went to Emerald Downs, the track about 60 miles away. I said that yes, I had gone many times. Then I told him about the beautiful white race horse I had met so many years ago, Dancing Dervish. He stared at me and said "Could you repeat that?" I told him again that many years ago in Texas, I had met a beautiful white racehorse, a son of Native Dancer, named Dancing Dervish. He shook his head and said, "It always amazes me what a small world it is. I have a horse who is the grandson of Dancing Dervish".
