Having decided to beat the heat yesterday (no, it never rained), Marash Girl and Marash Boy drove north to the State of Maine. They were just over the border when they came upon Fort McClary, a historical fort on a ledge overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, a state park with beautiful vistas, trails, and picnic tables. Another plus: the site attracted few folk, even though it was the Fourth of July weekend, and had NO GIFT SHOP!
The best surprise of all was Izak the goat, who was lunching on the lush grass at the base of the Fort. Marash Girl stopped to chat with Izak's owner, as Izak was too busy munching to stop and chat. "This is Izak. . . " "Like in the Bible?" asked Marash Girl. "We spell his name with a 'z' and a 'k'. I Z A K. He's two and a half years old; he travels with us (he sits in the passenger seat of my truck) and lives with us just south of the border in Dover, New Hampshire." "Well, I guess with those horns, he doesn't have to worry about coyotes or wild dogs," commented Marash Girl. "Oh, no, he never has to worry; he lives with us in our duplex in the middle of Dover. In our house. " "He lives with you, in your house?" repeated Marash Girl; "Is he toilet trained?" "Oh, yes," answered Izak's housemate. "In a dirt box? On the toilet seat?" asked Marash Girl, not exactly being able to picture the scenario. "Oh, no," answered the goatherd. "He just goes outside when he needs to go." "So does Izak have to pay admission to come into the park?" continued Marash Girl. "The State of Maine should be paying Izak to trim their lawn," commented the goatherd, as he nodded toward the State's gardener who was trimming the grasses among the rocks in the quarry on the side of the road with a motorized lawn edger.
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Izak sports his new neck scarf, a gift from his housemate (above right) for the Fourth of July Parade.
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The best surprise of all was Izak the goat, who was lunching on the lush grass at the base of the Fort. Marash Girl stopped to chat with Izak's owner, as Izak was too busy munching to stop and chat. "This is Izak. . . " "Like in the Bible?" asked Marash Girl. "We spell his name with a 'z' and a 'k'. I Z A K. He's two and a half years old; he travels with us (he sits in the passenger seat of my truck) and lives with us just south of the border in Dover, New Hampshire." "Well, I guess with those horns, he doesn't have to worry about coyotes or wild dogs," commented Marash Girl. "Oh, no, he never has to worry; he lives with us in our duplex in the middle of Dover. In our house. " "He lives with you, in your house?" repeated Marash Girl; "Is he toilet trained?" "Oh, yes," answered Izak's housemate. "In a dirt box? On the toilet seat?" asked Marash Girl, not exactly being able to picture the scenario. "Oh, no," answered the goatherd. "He just goes outside when he needs to go." "So does Izak have to pay admission to come into the park?" continued Marash Girl. "The State of Maine should be paying Izak to trim their lawn," commented the goatherd, as he nodded toward the State's gardener who was trimming the grasses among the rocks in the quarry on the side of the road with a motorized lawn edger.
[At this point in the story Marash Girl was relating to Marash Boy as they drove further north, Marash Boy wanted to know if she had asked the goatherd, "But what about the stink?" Marash Girl, who would not have been so rude, laughed. To see Marash Boy's reference, click the link http://marashgirl.blogspot.com/2011/01/what-about-stink.html]
"Izak is so clean," commented Marash Girl as she gazed at the snowy white goat. "Do you give him a bath?"
"Oh, no," answered Izak's housemate, "goats hate water. And if you ever smelled them when they get wet, you'd know why. That's when they stink!"
This is awesome! What a great story!
ReplyDeleteodd, though, because goats are not grazers, they are browsers. they do not do well on a grass diet exclusively. they eat all the other stuff that horses, sheep and cattle do not, like bark off a tree, and noxious weeds, thistles and ....
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