The life and death of two old goats

Robert and Felicity were two of our first farm animals. I remember the day we brought them to the home. We put the two of them in their pasture and within five minutes Felicity had tested, and been shocked by, the electric fence. That was her wont. She was a smart goat, always watching, always calculating. Her nephew, Robert, was just a kid then, not even a year old. Felicity always kept him in his place, even when he grew to outweigh her by half. Perhaps that’s why Robert had such a nasty attitude – from being hen-pecked by his aunt all his life.

Robert and Felicity were living enigmas. Robert would try to hook you with his horns, or bite you if he had a chance. When he was about six months old he butted Meggy (about one and half then) right in the chest. They killed trees (eating the bark until they ringed them), bullied sheep so bad that we had to put them in a separate pasture, and always looked at us with those strange eyes as if to say – I’ll get you good if I get the chance. At the same time they would eat out of your hand every so sweetly and gently and if you put a halter on them they would quietly go anywhere with you.

After 13 years of living at our farm, Robert and Felicity were put to sleep today. They had contracted a parasite during the summer and despite all her efforts, Maureen lost the battle to save them. Because of their age and condition, she decided to have then euthanized before the nasty cold winter came. I cannot fault her on this decision. The life expectancy of an angora goat is 8-12 years. Robert was 13 and Felicity was 15.