Monday, July 1, 2019

Goats Galore! By CB Kinsella and Various Children



It all began innocently enough, we were on the road to Christie Lake in 1978 and passed by a field with many goats, some very young, so we stopped to look.

We learned that while there was a veterinary in town, where we took Corky when needed, this farmhouse held another veterinary. As well as his animal veterinary practice, he raised goats. When we saw someone working with the ones in the field, I asked if they ever ‘rented’ one out for the summer. The man we saw working happened to be the vet himself. He was a bit of an oddball; he laughed and said, ‘Never have, but willing to give it a try!’


Mr. Potter, July 1978
 
He told me that we’d need to ‘rent’ a billy goat, and a young one, less than six months old because after that age, they began to ‘smell’ and no one wanted them then!

There was little discussion as all the kids wanted to take one home. I discussed price with the vet ($25 and when goat was returned at the end of summer, he’d return $25 if the goat was in good condition). I asked about feeding and he replied that he had one about ready in two or three days to go off the bottle and told us to buy a bag of ‘feed’ in town at the food store, and to feed him so much per day.

Thus, we left him, saying we’d be back in three days to pick up our goat. We did so, and this was our ‘Mr. Potter’.

July 1978, Chris, Mr. Potter and Jim
 
When the day arrived, we picked him/her up and home we went, goat cradled in Jim and Chris’s arms.

I had found an old baby bottle and nipple left over from Jim or Chris, and using watered down milk, the poor goat was very willing to be bottle-fed. In fact, every kid who lived near came over to help!

This was a joy to behold—Mr. Potter would follow the one with the bottle all over the yard, evidence that he was recently taken from Mom.

It was lovely summer weather, and the boys were sleeping in a tent in the back yard. At that point we had a gate on the fence, and I’d fixed a rug nest in the tool shed (end of the horse van that had been originally the ‘buggery’ or sleeping cabin). However, the boys wanted Mr. Potter to sleep with them in the tent, so I agreed, only to find the next morning that the excessive bottle feedings had caused a problem. Poor Mr. Potter had diarrhea! The boys cleaned it up and bottles were severely diminished and then discontinued. In fact, doses of Kaopectate were needed for poor Mr. Potter!

Mr. Potter remained the main attraction at our cottage for the summer. I well remember the night before we had to return Mr. Potter to the vet, Chris spent it in the hammock, hugging him!

July 1978, Mr. Potter and Jim
 
Six years later, we continued the Goat Escapade with Zelda. By 1984, Jim was away most of the summer, but did make it up for at least one picture with Zelda! Chris and Jim used to try to butt them with their heads in play.

Dad used to talk about them on the ham radio and he was surprised by how many people knew of them beyond Otty Lake!

August 1984, Zelda
'with a glare of ferociousness'
as Beth put it below
 

Tim and Rose Remember:
By the end of the summer Jim and Chris stopped trying to butt heads with Mr. Potter and Zelda.  They had both grown so big and strong, and had small horns, so that it became very painful to butt heads with them.

Corky loved to "round up the goat".   Her shepherding instincts would take over and she would drive the goat all over the yard.

I remember the goats being afraid of the boat.  Corky would run to the dock when it came into the bay but the goats would run away.  I tried to take Mr. Potter for a ride once and he completely freaked out and tried to jump out into the water.  After that he never came near the boat. 

Chris and Zelda, 1984
 
Jim agreed: Took Mr. Potter for a boat ride once...only once.  He bleated the entire short ride and pooped all over the boat while scaring us because he looked like he was going to jump out.

Each of the goats would follow us around like dogs.  I remember running up to the Birches with either Mr. Potter or Zelda running alongside me and Corky, enjoying the exercise.

I remember we quickly learned not to let Mr. Potter or Zelda in the cottage.  They were not housebroken and would crap anywhere they felt like it. 

I also remember Mr. Potter cleaned out Mom's flowers almost immediately.  He loved eating them. 


1984, Tom, Jim, Dan and Chris 
with Zelda and Corky
 
Sue Remembers:
Zelda had jumped up on the picnic table down near the lake and we were all laughing with delight at the way she was skittering and dancing on it. Dad grabbed his camera and sat down on one of the benches to get some good pictures of her. Just as he was starting to shoot photos, she came over, turned around, and then let loose a barrage of goat poop pellets at him. 
  
   “Jesus Christ!” he yelled disgustedly. But we all collapsed in hysterics.

 Jim Remembers:

We dropped Mr. Potter off in late August, before school started.  I remember when we went up to cottage on Columbus Day to close -- we visited the farm again.  I, along with Mom, said, "there he is" when we saw a herd of about 50 goats in the yard but I was never really sure.   We didn't want Chris, who was quite worried, to think Mr. Potter had been "sent away."

 Mr. Potter was very social.  He hated to be alone.  Unless it rained (in which case he went into the "dog house" in the fenced in area) he wanted someone with him at all times.  We'd often put him on a leash and attach this to the clothesline so he could walk a fair distance.  If he was left alone...which included us going out on the dock where he couldn't reach...then he'd bleat constantly.

Beth agrees: What I remember is how attached they got to us. When we all left for a while, say into Perth, they would bleat until we came back, from loneliness.
I'm sure we have pictures of this but, Mr.Potter loved to stand on our chopping block and look down at you with a glare of ferociousness...just as he was about to butt you in the head.

Beth remembers:
Loved all these stories, too.
I loved the goats. What a splendid thing to have had in childhood.

Zelda and Chris in the hammock









2 comments:

Diana said...

oh my this is a story I had not heard...oh how I wish I could've seen even one of the goats. Thanks for sharing.

Susan Kinsella said...

Yesterday (Tuesday, July 30) was Grandma Taylor's 132nd birthday. Nancy Ethel Baker Taylor, she and I shared the "Ethel Club" before we even knew about the middle name "clubs" that are popular now in our family. Clubs such as the Kate Club, headed up by Mom/Aunt CB (regular meetings and group photos whenever possible, and sometimes even club-made fudge sent to absent members!) and the Ann Club, of which our illustrious blogger mistress is a member.

I see that Grandma Taylor was born in 1887. It seems so fantastical that I knew and loved so well someone born in the 1800s! But as I think about it, she was in good company, with my other grandparents, Uncle Adin, and certainly great-grandma Kate Baker, whom I also remember, as well. And Lily Pickle? I'm sure more, too. Will someone someday be saying that about me? ("Can you imagine that, she was born in the 1900s!")

In any event, I think about Grandma often. I think I've told this story before, but one of my favorite remembrances occurred probably about 20 years ago, long after she was gone. I was standing at my desk in my home office and felt someone behind me. But then, when I heard Grandma's distinctive, familiar voice saying into my right ear her trademark, "Dontcha know," I was so delighted to realize she was there!

Happy Birthday, Grandma Taylor! As far as I'm concerned, you're always still here. Love you! Susan Ethel