Hick fancies himself a gentleman farmer. Two years ago, he bought his first goat at an auction. That set him off. One goat was not enough. Nobody can have just one goat. They're herd animals, you know. Everyone in the world knew, except Hick. He learned about it on the internet at work. In a job that has nothing to do with goats.
One goat led to another, until Hick had hoarded eleven of the little caprine cuties. I declared a moratorium on goats. Which means the herd has shrunk to six. But one is pregnant, possibly with twins. The goat gestation period is five months. It is with great anticipation that my 13-year-old son, The Pony, inspects the herd when we arrive home each evening.
Today we observed Lonely Goatherd Hick parked out by the driveway on his John Deere Gator. He was supervising the grazing of his furry children. He used to turn them loose, but two rosebushes, one lilac, and a 2008 Arbor Day free 4th grade red maple later, I pointed out the error in Hick's judgment. Goats are not good candidates for the honor system.
Hick's argument for acquiring so many goats was their grass-eating capabilities. He would not have to mow so much of our spacious front yard (field), which would save on gas and on his valuable time. Too bad he did not interview his goats before purchase. They do not so much enjoy grass as they enjoy rose thorns, underbrush, dead leaves, and tree bark. They are like four-legged locusts for any plant product other than grass.
Now Hick uses gas for the Gator to herd his goats to acceptable munching areas. He spends at least an hour a day watching them chew up the woods. The grass is as high as an elephant's eye. The goats don't go into it. If they eat any grass at all, it's from the trimmed sections along the driveway where Hick has mowed.
In the meantime, gas consumption has increased, and leisure time for Hick has decreased. He hasn't noticed yet.