The Goats Knew

Something's in the woods

The goats knew something wasn't right.

The lot the house was on was nearly 4 acres. Only 1 was cleared. There was a small yard for the dogs to play in, fenced in with wire that was cheap, but effective in keeping the canines separated from the rest of the world.

Then there was the barn Scott's Dad had built for the chickens. It now housed a half dozen or so goats. The chickens had been moved further back to make room for the goats. Dairy by breed, pets by nature. The goats now ruled the backyard. Their domain began at the barn and stretched 20 yards into the woods. Of course they made quick work of the greenery within their reach so their realm periodically was extended deeper into the forest.

Goats are very social animals. The young ones are very playful and they're all very curious. Any time his Mom or Dad was working in or near their yard, they had to be there watching. Most times they tried to help with whatever task was at hand, though 'help' might be a bit of a stretch. That's what made their actions, or lack of actions, so peculiar that Friday afternoon.

Scott's Dad was repairing a stretch of fence on the west side of the barnyard. The older nannies like to hook their horns in the opening of the wire fencing and try to tear it down. Sometimes they manage to break a strand and somebody needs to re-weave the wire so they don't end up wandering the neighborhood, sampling the local gardens.

"Hey Dad, what's up with the goats?" Scott shouted from the driveway where his bike was upended while he oiled the chain and adjusted the derailleur.

Mike answered back without turning from his work, "What do mean? Can't you see I'm workin' here?"

When Scott didn't respond right away, Mike gave a tail of wire a couple of twists and turned around to see what was up. The goats were all standing stock-still, heads facing South. Eyes all fixed on... something. Dad gave a sharp whistle and shouted at them, "Misty! What's up girl?"

But they didn't move. Goats can be skittish. A loud noise like my Dad's whistle should have had them running. At least the little ones. But no, no reaction. It was as if they didn't hear it at all. All of those side-slit eyes were focused on something in the woods.

"What's going on out there?" Scott's Mom's voice came thundering out of the kitchen window. Mike answered back for both of them.

"Nuthin' Hon. The goats just spotted something in the woods." He turned and went back to fence mending. Although she said nothing more, Tanya stayed at the window for several minutes watching the inactivity in the yard, until, as if a switch was thrown, all of the goats went back to munching hay and frolicing in the yard. The woods forgotten, the barnyard returned to normal. Only when they started clucking did we realize the chickens had been silent the whole time. In a couple minutes, everyone was back to normal again. Well, everyone but Livie.

Olivia was the barn cat. She kept the rat and mouse population down to a reasonable level. Lately she'd gotten fond of killing moles and leaving them next to the grill. Scott was never sure what she expected, but he usually just tossed the dead rodents into the woods.

Today, as the barnyard returned to normal, she remained on her high perch on the railing of the back deck. This was her favorite guard post. It was high enough to give her an overview of the entire yard. It also, I'm sure, gave her a feeling of superiority over the livestock she shared her world with.

On the high perch she sat, her gaze still fixed on a point deep in the wooded lot. Although none of the humans paid attention at the time, she was still there, staring into the darkness when the dogs came in for the night. Everyone else was back to normal, but Olivia was still fixating on something in the darkness.

The day ended without further incident. The moon rose in the east. Venus glowed brightly in the darkening sky. Eventually, the TV was silenced, the lights extinguished. The humans took to their beds. The chickens took to their roosts. The goats huddled together for warmth in the barn. The dogs curled up on their respective blankets, distributed strategically around the house.

Olivia sat, alert, on the deck railing, staring intently into the evening gloom. Eyes unmoving. The hair down the center of her back standing straight up. If you had night vision goggles, you might have seen small, inexplicable movements deep in the undergrowth. You might have seen a glint off an eye, or tooth. You might have noticed what looked like the twitch of an ear. Or you might have seen nothing but trees, bushes and vines swaying slightly in the evening breeze. Whatever Livie saw, it held her attention like an iron clasp.

As the moon disappeared behind a cloud and the dim light it provided was extinguished, the soft padding of feline feet could be heard along the deck. Under the cover of the sudden, impenetrable blackness, Olivia dropped to ground and, slinking through the bushes and vines lining the fence, she strode purposefully toward the even blacker wooded lot behind the barnyard. The fur on her back was smooth again and her ears were plastered tightly against her head. Her belly flat to the ground as she stalked her way into that foreboding world of shadows. She was on the hunt.