Once again an old rock song has popped into my head to describe this story. It was a hit 33-34 years ago and the old rock group kept repeating the phrases over and over, "Does anybody really know what time it is? Does anybody care?" and then truly awful horns would be blaring though out the song and I dearly hated that song. Naturally, it was a hit and was played nauseatingly over and over for what I thought was forever. I must have listened to way too much radio in those days, probably about what I listen to today. I love to belt out songs or at least make loud joyful noises and the goats forgive my lack of skill.

Anyway, I really do want to know what time it is and I really do care, particularly when we are on road trips. And that desire to know the time and really really caring about it became particularly strong last week when we were in Tennessee.

I got this sudden strong desire that I wanted to add a few reds and paints to our herd of traditional color Boers. We’d had a lot of customers this year asking if we had any. Wanting to diversify, I thought it might be a good idea have a few around. But, I was picky, I wanted the buck from a clean herd, no CL or CAE or sore mouth or any other problems. You get real picky when you have around 150 head of goats and if one gets sick, they all can get sick. Who wants to doctor 150 head of goats? It’s better to be picky.

And, then there was the other stipulation, the farm/ranch we would be interested in had to be reached in a day’s drive so we can turn around the next morning, load up goat/goats, and head home to arrive by evening. After all, it’s not easy finding someone to take care of 150 head of goats for you for two days. Did I ever tell you I don’t get off the farm much?

There also had to be a lot of meat on these red or colored Boers. Loads of meat was very important and if I also got some reds or paints on top of that meat, even better for my customers who wanted these colored Boer goats. So, when a lady, who’s opinion I respected, mentioned a certain herd in Tennessee free of diseases, meaty, and they raised reds and paints, Lee found himself planning a road trip before he even knew what hit him.

But, who to get to take care of the farm while we were gone? Who is tough enough to handle any contrary goats if they got sick? Who else? My tough nurse sister and her two grown boys. They had watched over the goats on two other buck finding road trips. She agreed in a minute and gave me her days off to chose from. What a tough nut.

Getting in touch with the red Boer farm, talking to the owners, I found them just the way I like them, very picky about caring for their goats. And, they never even blinked an eye when I requested a teat check on the boys I wanted. Personally, I like 4 clean teats, but I’ll settle for two. I picked out three gorgeous young bucks, one correct color with a red daddy and a paint mom (hoping to get the best of three world - correct, red, & paints), and then two red buck kids with a red dad and a red mom.

The dates were set for the trip and before you knew it, we were leaving West Virginia and heading to northern Tennessee. You know, when you do these searches on the computer for the best way to get to a destination, one thing they don’t seem to mention is time changes. For some odd reason, time changed when we went to northern Tennessee. It was an hour behind West Virginia time. I don’t know how this could be. I’m thinking it’s a time warp or something.

But, innocently we arrived an hour earlier then we planned and we didn’t even know it. We checked in at the motel and then went to the farm to look our future buck boys over. Even when eating at McDonald’s for supper, we never saw a clock to suggest we were in a different time zone. So, happily we went about our business, made plans with the owners of the farm to drop in at 7 a.m. to pick up the boys and head back to West Virginia.

Yep, you guessed it. We rolled out of our motel bed at 4 a.m. instead of the 5 a.m. we had planned, and we didn’t even know it. Loaded up the truck, stopped at McDonald’s for breakfast, and naturally it was open. But, the whole place had a different feel to it. Workers looking like they were getting off work were stopping for breakfast, others looking like they were heading out, and what clinched it was when the fishermen showed up for breakfast. I know fishermen, they like early fishing. So, I went to the McDonald’s cashier and asked her what time it was. What a shock! We would have over an hour to wait to pick up the goats.

I told Lee that the red Boer farm fellow left for work at 6 a.m., we might as well go over and wave him off with his wife. We ended extending the breakfast out some and got at their farm a little after six a.m., their time. I knocked on the door and what had been quiet in the house before became a stampeding flurry of activity. It seemed he had overslept. So, our not knowing about the time warp in this part of Tennessee and showing up an hour early was a blessing in disguise.

Lee and I stayed outside and conversed with the goats and the few birds that were awake. Watched a cat snuggled up to one of the big bucks still catching a few "zzz’s", and soon the man waved a goodbye and jumped into his car and took off, and his wife came out to help load the goats.

So, if you ever find yourself on a goat trip and someone comes up and says, "Does anybody really know what time it is? Does anybody care?" You tell him that darn tootin’ you do want to know what time it is and you really do care. And, what does he know that you don‘t?! These time warps can be anywhere.