Prelude to mutton

The goats have arrived – eight gorgeous, handsome, shaggy haired specimens. And they are busy exploring their new terrain. There are a few things you need to know about goats: they are incredibly inquisitive and will eat anything – God’s natural waste disposal. What goes in one end comes out as pelletized manure at the other! They may appear inscrutable - even icily aloof - but once you get to know them you can only appreciate the truly adorable creatures that they are. Yes, I love goats!

If you have ever held a kid (I refer to a baby of the goat kind) you will be surprised at how incredibly soft, warm and cuddly it is – just like hugging an overstuffed cushion! To paraphrase Charlie Schultz – happiness is a warm kid (yes, baby goat again). Unfortunately, one cannot keep a goat as a pet. For two reasons. One is that they grow rather large. The other is that, as mentioned before, they will eat anything. An untethered goat will clear ground faster than you can say, ‘MMmmaaaaa’!! Once, I did toy with the idea and spoke about it to my mali (gardener). He was appalled. Apparently folklore has it that if a goat looks at a sapling, it will positively refuse to grow. It was either the garden or the goat.

So, I contented myself by visiting goat breeders in the vicinity and making friends with their flock. Unfortunately, I often forgot their ‘will eat anything’ propensity and invariably came away missing the hem of my sari or skirt.

Watching the goats, today, brought back the memories. Goats nibbling pensively on leaves, on paper, on wires, on clothes left out to dry, on the juice man’s sugar cane, and even the herdsman’s lungi (he realised just in time!). The air is redolent with bleats, cuss words and the distinctive warm aroma of goat.

In earlier times, my husband’s family resided in their own two storied home which boasted a sizeable compound. The parents of a prospective bride to the family gifted them a pair of goats. According to hubby, the ram was the best ‘watchman’ they ever had. Every unknown person would be head-butted with ferocity and with all the kilos at its disposal. A daunting encounter. But they lived in the heart of the city and had to return the goat to its giver. It was a well-bred sire and hopefully spent a relatively pampered life.

Other goats are not so lucky. Most people know their goats as mutton. Which is why I will not make the acquaintance of the eight next door. Tomorrow, they will be the pièce de résistance on their owner’s dining table.