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Back in the Stone Age, (about 1958 or 59) when I was 5 or 6 years
old, I lived on a farm in rural south west Washington. We had chickens for our
eggs and Sunday dinner. We had cows for milk and meat. We had geese that
chased us and were good for nothing but biting our heels. We had a huge garden
for our vegetables, and we had GOATS.
Now, I have no idea what good those goats were. I believe Dad milked the does,
but I don't think we had to drink the milk, maybe he sold it, or knowing my Dad,
gave it away. Whatever the case, we had GOATS.
Out by the barn there was an alder tree, actually it was a group of four alder
trees that had grown together in a clump. Dad had built a box that was about
2' x 3' and about 4" high. He had wedged it into the center of these alder
trees, and filled it with salt for the cows and for those GOATS.
Back in those days before everyone had television and the internet, kids used their imaginations, and were very inventive about finding things to do. We never said we were bored because Momma would find something for us to do, and you can rest assured that whatever it was it did not involve fun!
There were some old cars down by the barn that we could play in and we would drive and take long trips to town (Vancouver, WA about 30 miles away) and China, and India, and all over the place. We had a great time driving here and there! And then there was that clump of alder trees, that made a great hiding place for a game of hide and seek, and not a bad place to just climb around!
Oh, excuse me, I sometimes get off track reminiscing! Here we go, back to those GOATS.
The goats and the cows and the geese all shared our barnyard play ground with us.
Well, one day my sisters (they are 1 and 2 years younger than me),and I were playing in the barnyard, when one of those darn GOATS, the billy with the horns, started to chase me. That wasn't too unusual, except that this time he started to butt me around. He had horns 4 or 5 inches long and they hurt! So I started running away. The faster I ran, the faster that darn GOAT came after me. I ran as fast as my little legs would carry me to the clump of alder trees. I made it to the trees, but made it no farther. The billy had butted me again only this time he smashed me up against one of the trees hard, and his horns got stuck around me and the tree. I did what any 5 or 6 year old kid would do, and started crying and screaming. I must have scared my sisters, really bad, cause Judy ran to the house with my baby sister Karen on her heels screaming to my poor Mother, "Mamma, Mamma, come quick, Billy is killing Susie!"
Mamma nearly had a coronary as she took off for the barnyard. She was very pregnant with twins at the time. When she got there and saw the mess I was in, all of the panic left and the "mother" took over. She got hold of that GOAT'S head and she jerked as hard as she could and freed me.
We weren't allowed to play in the barnyard after that. Not until Dad sold those GOATS a short time later. He also dehorned the billy, just for safety!
Now, as an adult, I understand that the GOAT was just as scared as I was, but I still to this day, just hate a GOAT!
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