"Mom, come outside!  Harry's stuck in a tree!"

News like this from my daughter, Alana, normally would not have startled me so much had it been about one of the barn cats, a chicken or even one of the other kids.

Harry, however, was our billy goat.

Sighing, I abandoned my cup of hot tea and the beginnings of the breakfast I was making for my family.  I pulled on a heavy coat, and then donned a pair of oversized, outdoor boots.  I found a working flashlight and stepped out the front door after my daughter.

The predawn air was heavy with a misty rain.  The droplets glistened as they floated past the night light outside the house.  My daughter and I stomped in our heavy boots through the still, cold darkness to the pasture on the hill-side behind our home.  Slipping on the wet mud and rocks, we made slow progress on our climb to the top.

There we found Harry, three feet standing on the ground and a fourth foot firmly wedged in the fork of a small tree.  He rumbled his "mmm-mmm-mmm" greeting when he saw us.  In spite of his predicament, he seemed calm and unafraid.  The rest of the goats stood nearby, watching with mild interest.

"Harry, what have you done this time?" I asked.  Harry just gave us the blank, wide-eyed stare so typical of goats everywhere.  No alarm or excitement, just an innocent whatever-do-you-mean expression.  

"You have the perfect poker face, Harry.  You don't give anything away, do you?"

The sapling turned out to be too strong to bend over, and the billy's foot was caught too tightly to lift out.  There seemed to be only one thing to do.  Harry was going to get a bear hug from one of us.

"I'll lift him up, and you work his foot loose", I told Alana as I stepped closer to the trapped goat.  In the next breath I said, "Whew, Harry, you stink!"

Maybe it was the thick hair coat he'd grown for winter.  Or maybe it was the warm animal body standing in the drizzling, cold rain.  Whatever the reason, Harry reeked.

The things I do for my animals, I thought to myself as I reached around Harry's chest and tried to raise his front end off the ground.  It wasn't easy, as he weighed nearly as much as I did.  His back feet did a tap dance across my boots as he struggled against me. 

"Hold still, Harold, you're not helping matters any!" I muttered, as Harry bleated a plaintive cry near my ear in protest of such handling.

In a few seconds we had the billy's hoof freed.  He stood quietly for a moment staring at us in anticipation of a handful of grain.  Since none was forthcoming, he turned and made his way down the hill with the rest of the goat herd following.

I left my daughter to finish her morning chores and made my way down the hillside with Harry's pungent scent lingering in the air.  Once I made it to the house, however, I realized that the scent was not lingering airborne as I had thought, but rising up from myself.

This caused a great deal of amusement from my children.

"Ewww, what's that smell?"

"Is that YOU, Mom?"

"Did you step in something outside?"

When I tried to explain the strange smell around me, the children just laughed and teased all the more.  The littlest one turned to his father and said, "Hey, Dad, Mom's been out playing with the goats again and now she smells like one!"

"I give up," I mumbled as I left them to finish making their own breakfasts.  I went upstairs, hoping a hot shower and shampoo would help me get ready for work.  And maybe just a spritz of that new perfume I was saving...

Later that morning, I was sitting at my desk when a coworker passed by.  She stopped and sniffed the air.  Another peered into the trash can, and then checked the bottoms of her shoes.  Finally, the first woman leaned towards me and asked, "Do you smell something funny?"

Taking a cue from Harry, I put on my best poker face and answered, "No, why?"

They wouldn't have believed me anyway.

by Pamela Jenkins    
ramblinrabbit @ juno.com

_________________________

Pamela Jenkins lives on a farm in Oklahoma with Stanley, her veterinarian husband of twenty-one years, and their four children.  They are avid supporters of 4-H and FFA youth activities.  Pamela enjoys crocheting, reading and raising Satin rabbits.