Fainting goat reunion Before we could start thinking about fainting goats, we had to contend with the wildlife in our front yard. A pair of female turkeys grazed in our front yard and yards across Crosswood Court. They showed little fear, slurping up worms from the grasses before we realized what they dined upon.
For a solid 30 minutes, they pecked through the low grass, pulling away the succulent annelids inhabiting the soil. We only saw the worms after heavy rains, when they occasionally squeezed under our patio door and thrashed on the kitchen floor
. Against the swift-billed turkeys, they stood no chance. The turkeys moved as if oblivious to us, strutting their way down the street. At that hour, no one else stood on the cul-de-sac, and missed their addition to the wildlife we’ve encountered – hawks, deer, red fox, barred owl, coyote, skunk, raccoon, frog, hummingbird, and opossum.
We haven’t seen the turkeys since we pulled down Crosswood Court, bound for Lewisburg, its one congested intersection and its riveting goat festival. Few drives to the hinterlands along I-65 land us in such pleasant surroundings. For a third year we crossed the Rock Creek pedestrian bridge, the waters brighter this year and not hiding any softshell turtles as in past visits.
On a humid October Saturday, you could cross Lewisburg and miss the tents entirely. Just out of view along Rock Creek, the huge white tents protect the town’s biggest festival, its Goats, Music & More festival. In our third year under the white tents, we stuck with the goats and forgot the rest.
The festival divides into tents for Boer goats and myotonic goats, the latter group the infamous “fainting goats” that collapse to the ground when startled.
This year, the judging tents were loud. The young goats, especially the young myotonic goats, provide the most noise. The goat cries cascade through the tents, a wave of yearlings talking out. The older goats might fight, but they rarely bleat.
The 2017 field was rife with fighters. Two younger handlers fell victim to overzealous goats, their charges dragging them on the ground and breaking free briefly. Other participants cornered the young goats before they could escape, and the escapes barely fazed the young participants, who brushed off their clothes and resumed presentation. Farm kids know how to roll with the punches.
The judges strictly focus on the goat, examining breed character, conformation and structural correctness. Behavior and appearance of the handlers impact nothing. One woman who dressed as if she’d visited a Nashville outfitter on Lower Broadway the previous night, finished last in one competition.
Another man who recognized as a judge from previous year turned presenter this year and won top prizes for goat after goat, the October humidity leaving damp streaks across his button-down shirt.The judges don’t favor goats based on their handlers – they focus solely on the goat. It all comes down to the goat, how it fits the character of the breed and age, and which one the judge favors.
In several categories, a judge freely admitted he could have swapped positions one and two without concern. In another, which had only one competing goat, the judge awarded a second-place because the goat did not fit criteria. Imagine that – second place in a one-goat competition. I would struggle with that kind of finish. But again, the goat counts for everything. Bad behavior? No matter. Goats meant for meat must meet certain specifications.
The judges know what they want to see. It’s always worthwhile to survey the competitors in their stalls, spread across dozens of pens in three support tents behind the judging tents. For handlers and goats alike, it’s a break from the competition, which can grow stale if too many one-goat categories stack against each other.
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| Strangest goat yet |
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