Yesterday was goat maintenance day. Everybody feels better after this ritual, except the goats. The wooden contraption is a goat stand or stanchion. Its engineering is simple. Getting the goats into it is not. The theory is, the goat walks up the two steps, puts his head down to eat the goat treats in the box, and stands there eating while we close the rack that prevents him from backing his heat out. Then, while he’s standing there, busy eating, we brush him, trim his hooves, etc.
However…the goats know this routine. They don’t like wearing a collar and being led on a leash, so they scream bloody murder the whole time. In this case, Gibbs has figured out we cannot trim his nails if he lies down. And, even though he weighs about 80 pounds, he can make that 80 pounds feel like absolute dead weight if you try to lift him up.
So, we double-team the goat. I scratch under his chin while Brian trims the hooves. I try to feed him treats so he is quiet, and I have mixed success. It really depends on the goat. The brushing goes a little better, if you don’t mind de-clumping the brush every three strokes and spitting goat hairs off your tongue (that’s what those white clumps on the ground are.) Did I mention they’re shedding?? Ah, spring.