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Transporting goats in a 4-door sedan

Lead Summary

HCP columnist

We knew that he planned to pick up two of this year’s offspring and take them home, but I could not help but smile when he drove up the hill to the cabin in a four-door sedan.

I had earlier sequestered the chosen little black goat and her fawn-colored sister in the dog pen, but when I shut the gate behind them, it occurred to me that the little white goat really rounded out the color scheme.

I quickly returned to the goat yard and brought over the extra goat.

The trio happily explored their temporary surroundings, waiting for their new owner, and then settled down to munch on a bit of hay.

I hoped that he would be as enamored with the three-part color scheme as I, or perhaps he would not notice the third, or maybe I could just mention the almost-empty freezer.

I waited, watching the little goats, but not for long.

When I heard the crunch of gravel as he drove up the hill, I walked over to greet him.

We explained pleasantries about the beautiful day, and then, as we walked over to the dog pen, I casually mentioned that the three goats were ready for their travels.

“Three?” he inquired.

I explained that they were a matching set, and as soon as he rounded the corner of the deck and saw the trio contentedly munching on their hay, he easily agreed. They were small goats, not really that big at all, he reasoned.

We carried them over, one by one, and set them in the back seat of his car.

He had an old blanket carefully tucked into the seat cushions for protection.

By the time the third goat was loaded, the first two were in the front, one ready to drive, and the other happily inspecting the dash.

We had planned to give him two bales of hay, but only one bale fit into the trunk.

Then, Greg asked if he could load a bale into the front passenger seat.

After scooting the goats into the back of the car, the second bale fit perfectly and fully into the front passenger seat.

With their new owner behind the wheel in the driver’s seat, there was no longer any room for the goats up front. The hay bale, quite thankfully, blocked any access forward.

Big smile on his face, the new goat owner rolled down his window to wave good-bye. We promised to stay in touch. As he drove off down the road, we could see three little goat heads through the rear window.

Just before they rounded the bend at the end of the second field, the little white goat turned to look back. I raised my hand to wave, as much to the goats as to their owner.

Our departed billy’s progeny were heading off into the world, bound to bring smiles to any who happened to notice them passing by in the back seat of a sedan.

These little goats would soon have a new home and names, and my freezer would simply stay empty for a while longer. And yes, their owner and I did talk a few days later.

The bale of hay in the front seat had kept the little goats quite occupied, and driving though town they had gotten quite a few waves and smiles, but most importantly, the little goats had easily made the acquaintance of their new yard-mates, chickens and ducks, and had happily adapted to their new goat world.

Christine Tailer is an attorney and former city dweller who moved several years ago, with her husband, Greg, to an off-grid farm in south-central Ohio. Visit them on the web at

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