Excerpt

Chapter 12

Farewell to Goat Folks

I wait until Mark and Julie leave the dinner table before I bring up a bothersome topic. “It’s the middle of July already, and we haven’t decided what to do with the goats. Besides that, finding renters, and moving back, all have to be accomplished before August 15th when I’m supposed be in my office for the fall semester.”

“They’re such beautiful and docile animals. Julie, especially will be devastated when we have to give them up. She’s so fond of them, visits them every day.” Ella regains her composure. “So, what do we do, place an ad in the newspaper?”

“We can. But Nels has another idea. Says we might try the auction east of Bemidji. Maybe sell all the goats at once. Takes place every Saturday.”

Ella thinks it over. “All right. I’ll go with the auction approach. Are you going to tell Julie?”

I look down at my empty plate. “Thought you could it.”

Ella shakes her head. “You always give me the tough jobs.”

I hear Julie scream outside. “We can’t sell the goats. They’re my friends. I saw three of them get born!” She runs to Pepper and Sam, hugs them.

Three days before the auction, Julie devotes almost every moment to her beloved goats. At times, I see her tears drip on their fur. “Oh, Daddy, I love them so.”

I nod. “I know.”

On the given day, we load the goats into the pickup; their hooves slide on the steel floor of the pickup box. They all come aboard without resistance, as I place my hands behind their heads, and give them a gentle pull.

At the auction barn, we unload the goats. Julie embraces each in a final hug. I transfer the goats to handlers. We gravitate to the auctioneering room, take seats at the edge of the straw-covered floor.

The auctioneer dispenses with several bulls, cows, and calves. Then a pause in the progression of cattle, and five goats appear on the floor, four of them white. They look around, seem unsure of their surroundings. Under the strong lights, I don’t recognize them at first. But Julie does.

“Oh, Mommy, Daddy. They’re so beautiful! Do we really have to sell them?”

I nod.

Julie buries her head in Ella’s side.

The auctioneer places Festus, Lizzie, Benjie, and Frisky on the block first. An elderly couple sit close to us. The ruddy husband, with drooping cigarette in his mouth, rubs his hands together. “The wether ain’t much, but the kids would make good eatin’. I think I’ll bid on–”

“No, you won’t, you old fool,” scolds his gray-haired wife. “And keep your mouth shut about eatin’ ’em. Can’t you see the little blond girl loves her goats?”

The four goats sell, and we never see them again. Julie weeps until her entire body shakes. I look at Ella and Mark. Both have sodden eyes–as do I.

The auctioneer now turns to Lily. “Here we have the mother of the three kids. She’s healthy enough to have more. Let’s start the bidding at $5. Am I bid $5?” He goes into his automatic mouthing of unintelligible auctioneer words. He shakes his head. “Let’s give the owner–and he points to me–a break. Gotta at least start the bidding.” A man raises his hand. “Good. Now, who’ll give me $10?” He repeats his come-on several times in auctionese. The auctioneer stops, looks around at the reluctant audience of potential bidders, then points at me. “Sir, will you let her go at $5?”

I look at Ella and the kids. Although unsure of what to do next with Lily, I say: “No, I’ll take her home.”

We ride home mostly in silence. Julie’s eyes remain reddish.

Ella says: “We’d better place in ad in the newspaper right away. Lily needs a new home, now that the other goats are gone.”

Two days after the auction sale, Julie finds Lily out of the fenced enclosure by the barn. “Daddy, come quick! Lily’s out of the fence, and I think she hurt herself.”

Feeling lonesome, I presume, Lily seems to be thinking: Where’s Festus? Where are my kids? In the process of attempting to locate those of her kind, she cuts her teats on the barbed wire.

“Poor Lily,” says Julie, “Can you help her?”

I coax Lily inside the barn to the milking platform, give her some ground feed as a treat, and rub salve on her teats.

A female caller responds to our add about Lily. “You have a female goat for sale? I could use one. Maybe have her mated and eventually milk her. How much?”

“$20,” I reply.

“I can handle that. Can you deliver her?”

We find the single woman who purchases Lily living in a mobile home tucked away in a narrow cut-out in the woods. I see no other building for Lily’s shelter. The mobile home’s off the ground and lacks a skirt. “The goat can slip under the home when it rains,” says the woman.

And is that her shelter too when it snows?, I think.

As we drive away, Julie remarks: “I don’t think that lady will give Lily a good home. Poor Lily.” Julie begins to weep again.

I look at Ella. She shakes her head. I feel poorly for what I’ve just done.

That night at the dinner table, the kids gone, Ella and I reminisce about our time with the goats. “Maybe I made a serious mistake having goats this past year on the farm,” I say. “Too hard on everyone when it comes time to say goodbye.”

Ella purses her lips. “Don’t blame yourself about the goats. Just think of the good times with them, and how they’ve enriched our lives.”