I can relate more than you know.

A friend of ours lent us a couple of her goats to help clear out brush in our barnyard. After a season with two bucks, never again, we wound up with two wethers, brothers, which worked pretty well.

Toward the end of the season, after I made a comment about wanting a milk goat, Donna said she had a doe that was close to kidding, if I wanted to try my hand and see how it went. Of course!

So she and her husband dropped Bitsy by, who quickly established her place as herd boss, and a couple of days later, I was greeted in the morning by her twin baby boys.

I named one Vortex, because he had swirl patterns on his forehead and one flank, and my husband named the other Hope. Vortex adored me, and I him, and he wanted to live his life attached to my hip, if not in my lap. Hope knew for a fact that I was going to eat him where he stood, and did everything in his power to keep his distance.

Then, in the space of less than a month, our little herd of five suddenly became two again.

Bitsy became ill, and after all three of us hitting the internet to search symptoms, we determined that she had worms (sorry, can't think of the type offhand), that were affecting her balance, and ultimately made her unable to walk. They made the decision to put her down, and we buried her in my front yard.

Then, less than a month later, she called and asked if we were ready to give the wethers back, as they wanted to fill their freezer for the winter. We had already decided to keep Semafor, the less dominant wether, and the two bucklings, which we had already had wethered. So they picked up Chocolate, Semafor's dominant brother, and I bid him a sad farewell.

Later that day, Semafor managed to escape his tether, and suddenly the three Musketeers were heading toward me up the driveway from our barnyard. I initially tethered him to a tree at the edge of the woods, about fifty feet from our back porch, and the little ones were having a blast eating the blackberry bushes in the nearby pond.

But I had things to do, and as much as I was enjoying watching their antics, I didn't feel comfortable leaving them unsupervised, especially since our dog LOVED chasing them, and even if I kept him inside with me, a stray dog was always a possibility. I thought they would be safer in the barnyard.

So back to the barnyard we trudged, and I tethered Semafor near the barn gate, with the little ones free. I heard Vortex calling after me, but he always did that when I left him behind, and I thought nothing more of it.

About 2 1/2 hours later, I went back to feed them and put them in their stall for the night, but as I approached, I noticed something amiss . . . from a distance, it appeared as though Vortex had grown much taller, though he was partially obscured by two shagbark hickory trees.

Then I drew closer and it hit me. He was hanging from the fence. Head down. He had tried to jump it, to follow me, and his back hoof was caught by the top strand of barbed wire, which flipped over the top smooth wire, and held him fast. his body was already stiff. Goats, even babies, aren't designed to hang upside down. He was not quite four months old.

I felt like I'd been gut kicked. I have no doubt you know the feeling. And yes, he's buried not far from his mom, in our front yard.

Although we've never lost an animal to a predator so far, this place has been hard on the animals we've loved, and it just doesn't get easier. But yes, we'll try again.

Hadn't meant to write a book, but there you go.

Wishing you a peaceful evening and lots more animals love to come.