Animal News: The Chronicles of Newman and other Stories
Newman has a religious experience
Keeping up with the emotional life of a goat like Newman can be trying for the average homo sapiens. His deep intelligence, insatiable inquisitiveness, tendency to be accident-prone, and need for constant recognition take their toll on those more ordinary beings around him. Since his high expectations in life are nearly always fulfilled, who would have ever thought that Newman would find religion?
Yet on two occasions now, Newman has gone into what I can only describe as a Sufic trance. Many years ago when I studied Arabic in Egypt, one of my colleagues decided to get involved with the mystical Sufi movement. Being not only a dilettante but also something of a heathen, I frankly didn't pay much attention to this (I realize now) rather interesting but odd American man who only wore the traditional Egyptian gallabia, spoke softly with intention, and stared out into space with dark eyes for long, long periods of time. It looked to me like being a Sufi was kind of depressing. I had always thought that Sufis were exciting -- like the whirling dervishes who are supposed to whip themselves up into a frenzy, but it just seemed indelicate to ask him when he would start twirling.
So imagine my surprise a few weeks back when Newman came upon me just as a whirling dervish.... a big, big dervish with horns. He had previously been depressed - had worried me to the point that I thought of calling the vet over. Of course I see now it was his contemplative state - I don't know how I could have missed that. Now he was pure energy, propelled by dancing hooves, accompanied by very loud goat bleats heard many farms away. Again, ever the literal-minded pragmatist, I thought something was wrong. I tried to calm him. That -- was a mistake. Whatever else you take away from these farm stories, just remember to NEVER interfere with a whirling dervish, especially if he is a goat. Rage at my dumb-headed lack of understanding drove him to charge me, like a bull. I flew over the fence and he flew alongside me, taking (I really have to say) unfair swipes as I stumbled. In desperation I picked up a metal feed dish to use as armor, but not before I suffered both bruises and indignities.
The incident repeated itself about a week later (without quite as many bruises or indignities on my part). Shortly after this, I noticed that Rosalita, the only female goat on the farm, was bagging up. That is to say, her udder was getting big. Each day I watched, and it got bigger and bigger. All the males are castrated, I thought, how can this be?! And then I remembered Newman's religious fervor. I also remembered a fleeting (and yes, perhaps quite insane) thought I'd had just days before, regretting having castrated Newman, regretting that he couldn't pass on his genes and create lots of little Newmans.
This, I decided, was an immaculate conception. A miracle! On my very own farm! Admittedly, I'd been sneaking peeks at some of those end-of-the world type shows on TV so perhaps my mind was influenced somewhat, but I thought to myself (because really, who could think this aloud) that it never said in the Bible that the second coming would not be in the form of a goat. Did it?
Till next time,
Farmer Anne
Star Gazing Farm
http://www.stargazingfarm.org
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