Despite having been raised in the country and having been exposed to the harsh truth of the food chain, I think I would make a piss-poor rancher, at least of meat animals. These goats me and the wife have adopted (which I affectionately refer to as my "four-legged lawnmowers") have become part of the family and I would have one hell of a time murdering any one of them to eat. It's a moot point anyway as I don't think we'd care much for goat meat anyway. I can't understand how goats ended up in the symbelism of satanism, considering that these little fellers have to be the sweetest and most socialized creatures short of the house animals that I have ever encountered. Yea, they're as stubborn as mules and will eat anything that can't outrun them, but they come when they hear the door open, and love to be scratched right between the horns. Ozzie, the runt of the three, loves to get behind you and butt you gently behind the knee. Billy, the middle stooge, is the crybaby, can't stand to be separated from the others. Mysty, the larger German breed without horns, is clearly the dominant but is the easiest to lead and calmest of the bunch. Together, these three miniature eating machines have kept my back forty (three fifths of the acre, actually) totally weed free, thus freeing me from the joys of pushing a lawnmower in 90+ heat and hellish humidity. I do have to tie them out strategically in the front area to clear what I want them to clear and not eat the good stuff. Funny thing about goats is this mindset they have that if it's just out of reach, it MUST be the good stuff. lol
Anyway, how could I ever hurt these sweet creatures? I couldn't. Which means if ever I was to manage to start a buffalo or ostridge ranch, you can bet I'd never form any kind of attachment with them. Yea......right.
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