Three peas in a pod

By Christine Tailer
HCP columnist 

It is not because they look alike. They don't. They are not even of the same species, but they really are three peas in a pod.

One is short, very, very short. He doesn’t even come up to my knees, but he is not aware of his shortness. He slowly struts about the yard as though he is king. He goes where he wants to go, nibbling on this and that as he passes by. His royal robe is white with a few light brown embellishments scattered just so. He really is a regal little fellow.

The other two are jet black, contrasting the king's white. One is tall, exceedingly tall. The king can pass easily under his belly, and often does. This tall fellow also struts slowly, his head held high. His legs are so long and thin that they look as though they would break into pieces if he were to move too quickly. Slow and steady is his way. He is the king’s philosopher. He cocks his head to the side, one long ear flopping forward, as he calmly contemplates the meaning of all things that require contemplation.

Then there is the wild one. She is also rather short, and though she sports the same jet-black coat as the tall philosopher, she is a different species, and unlike the other two, she does not know slow. She bounds, while the other two slowly strut, and she never stops moving. When the other two pause to stand still, she bounces all around them. 

When they turn to face her, she quickly circles to the other side. They regally turn to face her. She is their court jester. The philosopher lowers his head in thought, wondering at her energy. He reaches his long neck down towards her. They touch noses, the world's tallest goat and the ever so miniature Rottweiler. The little white coated king stands by and watches. The two nose touchers stand still until the little dog can stand still no more, turns tail, and darts away.

This wonderful courtly game of interspecies camaraderie happens most evenings. The two goats head out from their house and cross the upper field. The miniature Rottweiler dashes outside to greet them, and I watch the royal game as it unfolds under the towering pine tree that grows in the middle of our circular gravel drive. I look down on them from the cabin's front porch. Watching them is the best evening pastime I could imagine.

The turning and bounding and nose touching can easily last half an hour or more, but in time, as day turns to dusk, the goats turn to head back to their house. The little dog escorts them across the field to their yard and then returns to tell me that the king and philosopher have gone home to their goat house. Together, the jester and I walk back across the field. I lock the goat yard gate as the king and philosopher look out their door with a good night nod. The jester bounds ahead of me as we return home, crossing the field once more, to our house.

As I walk, it occurs to me that these three silly creatures really are like three peas in a pod. Their evening ritual binds them. It doesn't matter that one is tall and two are short. It doesn't matter if one is one color and two another. It doesn't matter that they are two different species. They are all of one court, the little king, the tall philosopher, and their silly court jester, three peas in the same, ever so special, creek valley pod. I am fortunate to share their 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 Ohio south-central Ohio. Visit them on the web at straightcreekvalleyfarm.com.