The Goat Continuum

May the sun shine on all of us, and may we chew our cuds, until it doesn’t, and until we don’t.

left to right, Wilikins, Gytha, Esme, Magrat, and Thrym

The goats embark, each day, on a long contemplation of whatever it is that they ate either that day or the night before. I suspect that the fermenting ball of vegetation takes on different characteristics as it is chewed on over time, just as our contemplations take us in different directions as we follow thoughts more deeply. The reason that I called this Substack The Cud, is because I’ve always loved the double meaning of the word rumination—the chewing of the cud, and the turning over of things in the mind. That’s the Goat Lesson of the Day: There’s usually something more, if you take the time to ruminate. The cuds of my goats comprise whatever was the Weed of The Day or the Browse of the Day, but they don’t let it go at that. They ruminate. As do most of us. What this means to me is that we all have more ruminant in us than we may realize. Or we should. A fresh cud never can reveal what a processed one can, and our overall health is often the better for it.

Because I have just had an Important Birthday, with a 5 in it, I have learned not to be so presumptuous as to speculate what my goats think about, as they sit here in the sun, working their jaws. For all I know, they have the answers to all the questions that I, even after all these years, have been chewing on. When I was younger, I thought they were just munching grass. Now I’m not sure.

For example, one might think that goats are pretty much living in the moment, and don’t really think about the past or the future much. Yet they are creatures of habit, which means to me that they have memories. Goats have a wisdom all their own, and their bodies, which include their brains, are also preparing for the future every moment. Goats live in the Goat Continuum, which means that every goat is all the goats that came before, and has predictions about all the goats that will follow. Nothing should be seen as a spat of time. Goats are deep creatures, and one could ruminate on them for a lifetime and never fully know them. And so with everything.

Part of the reason for this goat meditation is that of our five goats, whose names are Esme, Gytha, Magrat, Thrym, and Wilikins*, three of them are now clearly entering their last days. The ladies are old. their skin hangs off their bones and they now often sit to graze. Goats, like many other animal friends, do not live as long as their humans, which, for the humans, results in a series of griefs over time, but also considerable pleasures. My goats have taught me things, for which I am grateful. We’ve been friends. Everything has something to tell you if you pay attention. I hate to think what I have missed.

Gytha and Esme, waiting for answers

*you may recognize that all of these names, with the exception of Thrym, are characters in books by Sir Terry Pratchett. The girls are named for three of the witches, and Wilikins is Sam Vimes’s butler. Thrym, the non-Pratchett character, is the giant who stole Thor’s hammer. Wilikins and Thrym were not named by me. I doubt if the mythical Thrym would have appreciated having a wether named after him. In case you are interested, Esme and Gytha are full Nubians, Magrat is Sanaan/Toggenburg, and Thrym and Wilikins are Nubian/Toggenburg, but that doesn’t matter since they are wethers, but it explains the facial stripes.