Leo Moves On

We’ve made some fine friends here in Middle Tennessee. One of the best is Jeff, the man who supplies hay for us, who built the perimeter fencing, who is currently framing the workshop, and who—I hope—will soon be working on fencing again. The epitome of honesty and ethical workmanship, he’s a treasured asset to us. Generous with his time and knowledge, he has helped us with dozens of farm-related questions and is our first source for anything equine—for he is a fine horseman.

When we were chatting this morning, he mentioned how his horses had grazed down a new pasture he had fenced recently and related how one enthusiastic grazer had sustained an injury when part of a bramble bush poked him in the eye. He described cleaning out the pus-filled wound and I was impressed that the horse would stand for his ministrations. “You need a goat,” I told him, for a goat would browse down those brambles until they were no longer a threat to the horses.

Asked if we had a goat to sell, I volunteered Leo. Although we are still building our herd and have not had any goats for sale as of yet, Jeff and his family are special. They warranted this exception. Besides, Leo is a wether—he does not contribute to herd expansion. Filled with personality and not shy about self-expression, Leo had insinuated himself into Lucy’s stall—between the horse and her feed tub—when they were pastured together last winter. He would not have trouble ranging with horses. Plus, he’s used to being tied out, so he could be staked beside the brambles to encourage him to work that area.

That evening as Jeff was leaving the jobsite, I rounded up Leo and passed him into the truck’s cab. He’s a fine specimen—a two-year-old deer-colored, blue-eyed Nigerian Dwarf goat—and I felt a pang of regret as I sent him off. Now the farm is down to twenty-one goats again