In April billygoats arrived and a famous song came to mind. High on the hill stood a lonely goatherd... The ensemble was hired by my suburban city to provide the ubiquitous fire break.


Everyone knew their purpose: to keep us safe from seasonal fire that might rage down on our homes from the undeveloped hill. Yet, the ensemble become a major attraction. A distraction from the barren nature of homestay, especially after a month. Young mothers and their children walked the path to romp along with the goats. Quarantine evolved into maximum recess after the rigors of homeschooling.


An additional boon to the presence of goats, fenced in and protected by a special breed of dogs, is that the coyote pack who used to gather at night and howl at the moon or whatever is gone. While the combined coyote howl was eery, the dog barks and deep and strong, though not necessarily a peaceful entree to sleep at ten o’clock at night.

“Woof! Woof! Woof-woof-woof! Be Gone,” the dog chorale said.

Finally, the endless chewing on the yellowed grasses were cheaper than the city’s lawnmowing machinery, which had struggled to gain access. Plus, the goats are ridding our neighborhood of allergens, which have overwhelmed by allergy meds this spring-summer.

Quail and Roadrunners and other wildfowl were flushed from the underbrush, jamming themselves into thickets of landscape bushes along our secluded street at the top of the hill. Would the bunnies will welcome the competition for turf?

Goats created their own manure to help maintain the terrain. They were worth their carefree weight in gold.

Goats cavort, modeling such behavior for cooped-up ed humans who were careening into nasty attitudes. Goats as a gift of Mother Nature to help us toward peace, tranquility, and kindness.

Goats are making me rethink their stereotypes: ‘old goat’, ‘get my goat’, etc.