I have some personal history with goats, none of it pleasant.
Goats are singular critters. They are canny, tough, resilient, and adaptable. They can eat almost anything and are quite efficient at converting rough forage to meat and milk. We had a few neighbors who raised them, and the most notorious of local billygoats, whose genes were spread far and wide throughout northeast Iowa, was Old Stinky. Old Stinky lived on a farm down by Canoe Creek, was vindictive, mean as a snake, and you could smell him for a mile and a half downwind. He was so awful he was kind of wonderful, and I once had a rather horrible run-in with him that involved a big cottonwood tree that overhung the road, his predilection for standing on a limb over the road and letting his scent drift down onto passing cars. The event also involved me, a girl, and her Mustang convertible — but that’s a story for another…
