There’s a lot of drama in my neighborhood.
Animal drama, that is.
It beats any reality show on TV. In my yard alone, we’ve seen wild turkeys wander down the driveway, bucks spar by the trampoline, quail nest in the shrubs, and hawks nab rabbits right off the lawn. And who could forget the tubby raccoon that tried to use the cat door to get into our garage?
Not me. I discovered him.
It’s reached the point where our neighbors have even started naming the cast members. My personal favorites are Bruiser, the biggest, baddest buck in the hood, and Skippy, a gimpy doe who still manages to run off any animal that gets near her twin fawns.
Our neighbors gather in their front yards to dish about the animals – just like a bunch of Bachelor fans gossiping about who started the drama and what’s going to happen next:
“Did you see how Bruiser totally gaslighted Skippy?”
“OMG, yes! And I’m not even surprised. He’s such a thug.”
My husband and I hear about all the animal drama, whether we want to or not. Which is why we were so surprised, when we took a walk a few nights ago, to witness the most shocking episode yet.
A herd of goats was devouring the neighborhood.
Whoa. I did not see that plot twist coming. Frankly, I don’t think anyone did.
At this point, I should probably clarify that the goats weren’t eating our whole neighborhood. They were munching their way through a large, wooded hillside just east of all the houses. And they’d been brought into the neighborhood on purpose.
It turns out that goats are unlikely firefighters. In a matter of days, a few dozen can clear out acres of underbrush that might otherwise fuel wildfires.
Given recent tragedies in our region and throughout the world due to wildfires, I’m thankful for this latest turn in the neighborhood drama.
So, go ahead. Cue the goats.
I’ll keep watching the show.
