The Goats

One evening in 1999 we were watching a program on our PBS station and one of the topics was cashmere goats. A former corporate couple were highlighted because they had made the brave jump from living in the city and having high power jobs to leaving that all behind them to move to the country and raise cashmere goats. The program showed the couple's operation and how happy they were now that they were out of the rat race.

That program got my pea brain in motion. Dangerous. I thought to myself, as I unfortunately do too often, "I could do that!" The notion of "easy money" took a fast hold on my brain.

I secretly started searching on the internet for cashmere goat breeders. I say secretly because my husband didn't have a clue as to my plans. This is not unusual. I frequently have a "great" idea, get things planned out, and spring it on him at the last minute. Sometimes he can bring me back to reason, but more often than not, he can't.

So I found a breeder within CA. I started an e-mail correspondence with him asking about availability and most importantly: price. Well, okay, $250 didn't seem too bad for a goat that you didn't have to feed much and you could actually make good money from it's wool. If I remember correctly, at the time it was over $20/lb, average per goat was 1 1/2 to 2 pounds per year. Meanwhile the animal could be dually used as a lawn mower/weed control.

I made all the arrangements with the breeder who lived near Half Moon Bay. The kids were in elementary school then and I was working too and I didn't want to take a day off work. There were two possible weekends where I could make the long drive up and back. My husband was going on a rare out of state hunting trip with a few buddies. The breeder warned me that the weekend I chose was the same weekend as the local Pumpkin Festival and traffic would be horrendous. He advised me to come in from a northern route. I said okay we'll see you soon.

My husband left for his trip and it couldn't be soon enough. Before I left for my trip I had to make sure there was a pen ready to receive our newest "pet". We just had pipe fencing so I had to run to the home improvement store to get wire fencing and put it up before I left. That was a long hot job. Not really difficult, but I wasn't used to doing that kind of work. Finally I deemed the pen goat proof. I hitched up the horse trailer, packed up the kids and we were off.

On the drive up I thought the Pumpkin Festival thing couldn't be all that bad, so I chose to disregard the breeder's advice and went the route I thought would be shorter.

Well, it was shorter on paper. When we got to our turn off, there was a huge line of cars. It took us about three hours to get through three miles. I had no idea what a huge deal this Pumpkin Festival was. Thank goodness the kids were very good. I think they were excited about the prospect of getting a new animal so they behaved.

Finally we got through the mess and found our way to the breeder. His house was on the side of a hill and he had pens with a lot of fuzzy goats in the back. He and his wife greeted us and asked how the trip was. I had to admit that I didn't follow his advice about coming in from the north side, but I would definitely go home the way he recommended.

He showed us the goats he had available for sale. I picked one out. Turns out she was a twin. Goat breeder's wife said, "You know these are herd animals and they really do much better if they have another of their kind with them. It would be so much better for the goats if you took at least two, like her sister here."

All right, twist my arm. Obviously I have "SUCKER" across my forehead. I said okay and the deal was done. I wrote the check, he gave me their vet records and pedigrees, and loaded them into the trailer. Away we went, this time heading north to avoid the Pumpkin Festival Nightmare.

The kids and I finally got home and put the goats into their new pen, which was about 5 times bigger than their old one. We agreed to let them keep the names the breeder gave them: Clarisse and Annabelle. Now came the scary part. Waiting for hubby to come home and what his reaction would be.

As it turned out, it wasn't as bad as I had imagined. Although he hadn't snagged any deer, he did have a good time on his trip. Besides, the goats were very cute and the deed was done. Obviously the next thing they needed would be a shelter of some sort.

I made a plan on paper for a goat house that would be big enough for the two of them. Another trip to the home improvement store for lumber and supplies and the goat house was under way. I actually built it all by myself. I wasn't sure if they would really use it, and I was happy to see they went inside all the time, especially if it was raining.

I knew goats liked to climb also so we put an old stump in their pen. They played quite a bit on that so I built a set of platforms for them. We used to sit on our back patio and watch them play king of the hill.

Sadly, about three years ago, Annabelle died of unknown causes. I found her in the corner of the pen one day, barely alive. I tried to get her to walk out to a grassy spot under the eucalyptus tree where she collapsed. I held her head in my lap and tried to coax her into eating some tender grass and even their favorite treat, some grain. She refused. A few minutes later she died. My husband buried her in the far back and my son planted some kind of agave on her grave.

Clarisse seemed to miss her sister for a while but is now back to her silly old self. She likes to pretend she's showing the cow who's boss (a goat and a cow headbutting!). Otherwise she enjoys eating the grass with the sheep and tormenting her neighbor, Perry, the ram.

Oh, and the cashmere-to-cash idea? Never happened. I am not a good shearer for one thing. I would have to have more than one or two goats to even think about making the concept profitable. I do shear Clarisse every year around this time, but her wool goes straight to the dumpster.