Here's an idea: A goat could trim the lawn

It was a Sunday morning and I was pondering the day ahead as I drank my coffee and The Lady of The House had her tea.

“I think I can get two mowings in today. I gotta get my mowing done before the weed police cruise the neighborhood,” I said.

We have an electric lawn mower. I can knock out about a half-hour of mowing before it needs to be charged again. It takes about three mowings to tackle our hacienda’s lawn.

“We need a goat to take care of the lawn,” The Lady of The House said.

This is not the first time bringing a goat into the family has come up in conversation over the years between the two of us.

There was that time we talked about getting a goat cart and a big goat that The Lady of The House could take to the supermarket.

“You know, just trot on down to the grocery store, me and my goat. I’d have a long, thin stick to tap it on the shoulders to tell it to turn or stop or whatever. And we’d have goat poop for the garden as a bonus,” she said.

We never got a goat or goat cart. We knew the goat police, the city code enforcers, would probably frown upon our goat.

I mean, there are areas in Clovis where one is allowed to have “livestock,” including goats, chickens, horses, etc.

We don’t live in such a zone.

But back to goat lawn care …

“My Uncle Bud had two goats he used to keep his motel lawn trimmed,” I said.

It was over 50 years ago, before Uncle Bud, my dad’s brother, “went on to Glory” after having a heart attack.

Uncle Bud was the family raconteur, bon vivant, storyteller or simply put, a character.

Uncle Bud had a motel in North Carolina just north of Greensboro.

Every summer, starting when I was about 11, my parents would pack me up and put me on a Greyhound bus for the 100-mile trip from our Virginia home south to Uncle Bud’s to spend two or three weeks..

That was back when, apparently, nobody thought twice about sending a kid off alone on a Greyhound bus.

Anyway, I arrived one time to find the goats at Uncle Bud’s motel, each tethered by a real long chain.

As I recall, they did a fine job of keeping the lawn trimmed.

I got a “how to be a hippie” book for Christmas one year. That’s what I called it. It was actually called “The Last Whole Earth Catalog” put together by some folks in California.

It was a gift from my momma, one of the best gifts I ever got in my whole life.

Anyway, in the midst of all this alternative lifestyle, living off the grid, living off the land info, there was an article about NOT using goats to keep your lawn trimmed. Use sheep, it said.

Next time I saw Uncle Bud I told him he shouldn’t use goats to trim his motel lawn.

“You need two sheep, Uncle Bud. Goats really don’t like grass,” I proclaimed.

Uncle Bud walked away laughing.

Returning back here to the future …

“I don’t think we’ll get a goat. The goat police will probably get us. Besides, you’ll be wanting me to go around raking up the goat poop for the garden,” I said.

“Well, it was an idea,” The Lady of the House said.

Grant McGee writes for The Eastern New Mexico News. Contact him:

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