THE MEN WHO STARE AT GOATS - walking in the Languedoc

 

When I was a child I had an 'aunt' called 'Mary of the mountains' and she owned goats, there was quite a crowd of them and they were big and seemed to me rather vicious and nasty, disagreeable pieces of work. I wasn't a wee small child at the time, but getting on for teenage, and they still had the power to scare me.
That was my vast experience of goats up until Saturday.

We went to Ferrels des Montagnes for a walk, there are 2 circuits from the village, both of about 15km and we set off on the 'Circuit des hauts Ferrels' just because they where the first markers we came across (yellow balisage). A narrow path leads you up and up to stunning views and a refreshing breeze, beautiful.

 

On we went, eventually getting to some scrubby farmland on this high plateau, with machinery, a modern barn building, and cows to the left of the path, on which, up ahead, was a kid goat. As customary when I see animals during walks, I said hello to it, and usually at this point they run away. Instead the mother and other kid came running towards, oh,oh, hope she's not in super protective mood. She said hello back in the way goats do (?) and on we walked (now on a minor road) and they walked too...

 

 

Timeline................

1. Thinking - Isn't this sweet.

2. They'll turn around soon.

3. We then tell them to turn around, and point to make it obvious.

4. We turn around for a bit, they follow, we turn back on route, they follow (repeat several times).

5. Stamp foot, wave arms around, tell them loudly to go back - they look at you. Try it in French.

6. Tap with walking stick, hit with small stone

7. Hit with larger stone - not even a flinch. Don't have in in your heart to hit her with anything larger   or harder.

8. Give up and walk them back to the farmyard.

 

Back along the road, to the yard, we kept going onwards - and so did they. That's fine, there's a gate further along across the track, we'll get through, they won't. So I didn't know goats could leap, even little kiddy goats, and quite high, am I stupid or what. I'll rephrase that, were we stupid or what?

More shouting, more pathetic pokes with the stick, slightly bigger stones. We maged to put a wee bit of distance between them and us - for about 2 minutes -

 

 

 But they were soon back. They loved us. To be honest we loved them too, but this could not go on!

 

Eventually they would get worried about being in unfamiliar territory, yes? From our first point of meeting to our car was about 5 kilometres, were they really going to walk back through the village with us? We will meet someone there no doubt and explain the situation, or the Mairie might be open and we'll inform them of lost goats, or maybe when they come to the river before the 'town centre' they will be happy to stay there, I hoped, as the mother did seem in need of a drink.

So we walked on, thinking if we had been in Brittany, they would have been in the back of the car in a flash, kidnapped to live in our big field at the back of 'Toad Hall'. Unfortunately our patch of grass in St.Pons would support 1 goat for about 1 day, so even if no.1 son had been there and whined 'Mummy, please, please can we take them home, can we, cane we?' it would have to be no. The final parting after being so long desired, plotted, attempted was going to be painful.

And then it happened in a flash.

Returning into the village there is a stretch of minor road, then the path goes off and runs pretty parallel to it before rejoining at the village edge. Just prior to this split in the route a convoy of a about 7 cars passed us and had to negotiate a road full of goats, good humoured passengers smiled and said Bonjour to us with OUR travelling goats, one driver did ask and we assured him they weren't anything to do with us. Amongst the cars the kids got separated fom Mummy goat and us, they raced on ahead. Mummy goat didn't know what to do, she genuinely looked at me, asking me, 'should I go or should I stay safe with you?' The decision was made in her might when a loud bleat came up, at the same moment the last car approached and the path to the left appeared. She took off in a panic in front of the car and we dived to the left down the path and out of sight.

Hurray we'd lost them, euphoria! that lasted for all of 10 seconds to be followed by remorse, worry and nostalgia for our little brood.  Why can't we hear them? we worried, what's happened to them, will they appear when we re-join the road, are they now happy by the river?

We hit town, no sign of them, did they finally turn back?, it was sad to think we'd never know their fate. We walked through the village , thinking of all the 'what ifs' of having custody of a goat. And as the end of the village came in sight, where its auberge was situated, bouf! out leapt a goat, pursued by a waiter and waitress. Someone else had inherited our problem - someone who had a bit of skill at controlling goats unlike us, in a flash they were in the outhouse, locked up, job done and lunch service resumed. And we made a final dive into the car, quick, before the shout went up 'Regarde, c'est eux, les gens avec les chevres!' or something like that.

Not an hour has gone past since we abandoned them that we do not think of them, and worry if we returned to Ferrels goat is now on the menu. 

 

 

 Our first encounter was by a very snazzy water tank.