Thereís a rumor going up and down the valley about a scarecrow goat seller. It seems someone driving by a farm saw a scarecrow walking around, talking to people, picking up goats and setting them in trucks, accepting money, and waving as the people drove off.
This scarecrow was wearing a scraggily old woolen toboggan on itís head, blonde/gray fly away hair sticking out everywhere from underneath the shaggy hat, a torn dark blue winter coat with stuffing sticking out, old corduroy jeans, scuffed up rubber barn boots, and muddy goat kid foot prints all over the coat, jeans, and boots. They were amazed the thing seemed to be able to walk and talk and carry goats and talk to buyers without scaring the buyers and the goats off.
Strange. You know, I have a scraggily old woolen toboggan that keeps my head warm and controls my flighty shoulder length hair, a dark blue winter coat that has seen better days and it certainly use to have more stuffing. I also like wearing corduroy jeans that have been bought from yard sales. My rubber barn boots have seen better days and I constantly wear muddy goat hoof prints from friendly kids jumping all over me. I wonder where that scarecrow got itís outfit? It sounds very comfortable and affordable.
Thinking about it, itís a wonder I donít scare buyers off with some of the outfits I wear. Probably because goat buyers are a brave lot if they are willing to buy from that rumored scarecrow. Take the other day, a couple of retired gentlemen called and wanted to come and look at my weaned baby bucks. One needed a buck for his herd and the other just wanted to look.
I had just finished eating lunch, which included a salad with zesty Italian dressing. Zesty by meaning, loaded with garlic. I love garlic. Fortunately, Lee loves garlic too so we get along great. In fact, the goats dearly love my breath and frequently come up to me, lift their heads up as close to my face as possible and wait for me to breathe on them.
When that fog of garlic wafts over them from my breath, they breathe in deeply and sigh in appreciation. They act like they wonder where I graze and hope they can find the same spot too. But, you have to remember what a goatís breath is like. If youíve ever been burped on by a goat, you know their breath is strong enough to take the paint off your truck. So, with my love of zesty salads, my breath is strong enough to knock your socks off at five foot away. That makes me really popular with my goats, plus the fact I also carry a grain bucket a lot.
The buyers that appear on my place are always nicely dressed, even if they sometimes appear in bibs. The bibs are always sparkling clean and the buyers just look down right spiffy. When I step out of the house, they might blink, but they donít say a word about my comfortable old barn clothes covered in goat hair and usually mud from happy kids. Then add on my love of garlic, well, I have a bunch of repeat customers who are exceedingly brave or realize they donít have to take garlic themselves to cure what ails them, they just need to hang around with me.
I recognize that my love of zesty Italian dressing could be a draw back so I always pop a mint in my mouth before going out to greet customers, or make it a point to stand and talk goats with them beside the bucks pens. If they think the bucks are smelling particularly strong, well, Iím not about to tell them any different.
Anyway, the two retired gentlemen showed up, never blinked as I stepped out in my above mentioned favorite barn outfit. We headed to the buck kid pens where twenty-four 3-4 month handsome little fellows were eagerly waiting. They love meeting new people.
To keep the two gentlemen clean so they would be allowed to step back into their homes by their wives, I stood on the outside of the pen and pointed different bucks out whose bloodlines they were interested in. In exasperation, the future baby buck buyer stated he wanted to go into the pen. That you couldnít really tell what they were like by standing outside a pen and looking in.
I made it clear that these boys were friendly and I was afraid they would get them so dirty their wives wouldnít allow them back in the house. They said a little dirt never hurt anybody. You know, I donít think they understood what I meant about the boys being friendly. They probably thought the boys would walk calmly away from them when they walked into their pen to look them over.
I doubtfully said all right, follow me. In I bravely marched. In the two gentlemen innocently walked. Before they knew what hit was going on, about six boys joyfully jumped on me in happiness to get petted. After I had picked myself up, I saw three boys each joyfully jumping on the men, another five were standing in line to get a chance, the others had us surrounded. They were so happy. They had company.
The menís clothes instantly started looking like mine, covered in tiny muddy hoof prints. Bravely the men tried to stand their ground, but the happy baby bucks were pushing them all over the pen. These babies hadnít had this much fun since yesterday. They loved guests.
The future buyer hurriedly picked out a baby buck he liked and we fled the pen. No way catching or just simply picking up the kid now with all the other baby bucks trying to get into your arms. I would have to put out grain to distract them to safely extract the one he wanted.
The grain worked like a charm. I put the collar on the kid the buyer wanted, led/dragged the kid out of the pen. Who suddenly realized he was no longer near the grain, flew around the barnyard in protest, looking for a gate to go back in with his grain eating buddies. Oh, I was still hanging onto his collar, but that didnít slow him down any until I reached out and grabbed a post on our second trip around. I hung on for dear life, one hand on the collar, one arm wrapped around the post.
The gentlemen couldnít help because both had had surgeries and would never be able to lift more then a pound or two again. I bravely made my way to their truck with the protesting baby buck, lifted him up, one end at a time, and put him in the big dog cage the fellow had in his camper top. The fellow was pleased as punch with his new purchase, handed me the money, I handed him a receipt, and waved them off as they waited and pulled out after several people drove buy, studiously watching me.
As I said, I donít know where that scarecrow goat seller is located, but as soon as I find out, Iím going to go take a look. Maybe I can find out where he gets his comfortable sounding outfits and get a few for myself.