Lost and Found.
I call this little goat Black Magic. Magic for short.
Magic was born the day before we arrived on the farm. And then short into our stay, we were left alone with the animals. The herd was out for a walk and even though he was tiny, Black Magic was was along for the ride. We watched as he jumped in the grass and tagged along with the big goats. His mom, covered in black and white spots, much like a sweet dairy cow, would check on him, then get distracted by branches to munch, check on him again. The youngest daughter who lives on the farm got home from school and walked around with him in her arms. The dogs seemed to taunt Magic a little but mostly leave the little guy alone.
And then when the heard paraded back to the barn, we were missing three goats. Very tiny goats. Katherine and I were alone, entrusted to milk the herd for the first time although we’d only been here a few days. When the teenage daughter got home, we used her lifetime of living with the goats to find two of the newborns. We walked around the forest and paths to listen for the little one. Goats this size might just get tired and find a place to curl up and sleep. We’re told they have instincts to keep quiet and only call out when their mom calls to them. Everything seemed still.
Night came, there was no tiny Magic and we assumed the worst. Without milk and alone in the woods, how long could this little guy make it?
The next day came. We took care of morning chores, poking around in hiding places and as we raked and brought hay we kept an extra eye out. We were pretty much without hope. And then straight up, Disney movie style, the youngest daughter got home from school, went looking for the goat out in the woods and heard him calling. After more than twenty-four hours alone, Black Magic had been found. We’re keeping an extra eye on that little guy. wanderer today.