Pack Goats' First Goat Packs

The Goats decided they were old enough for grown-up goatwork and wanted to hike with their new (never used) packs. They did GREAT! We all hiked about 2 miles with not a single hitch. Several times they got tangled with each other and a few times one or the other of them got hung up in tree branches. But they worked it out on their own. These guys are R E A D Y and anxious to get some serious camping gear* on their backs.
However, these were only "junior" panniers, stuffed with foam pillows. That helps the goats train for side clearance, deal with balance, etc. Later, they will start carrying real loads, and with full size panniers about three times this large. But...Sshhhhh...don't tell them that. "The Boyz" were rightly proud of what they did today, so let's not tell them they were carrying only training-load pillows. Heck, I'm still quite proud of how well they handled everything today. The 2008 GoatPacking season is going to be great, thanks to these four guys.
For more information please see www.blackhillspackgoats.com.


* Or ice chests for drinks. Or snacks for themselves.



London Fog

We've had more rain in the past week than the prior year. Even the rocks are soggy.


SPRING at last ! ! !

Like a free pass to the candy store for the Black Hills Pack Goats. And eye candy for their head goat. The entire forest has turned in to a limitless candy-buffet for the goats' every browsing dream come true.


Perhaps Custer has taken this Lead Goat thing too far?

We glanced over to see The Boyz all splayed out on "Muscle Bench," as usual. (It's an old workshop bench that the Black Hills Pack Goats use for sunbathing and jousting for herd rank.)

But this time, there was something just a weeee bit fishy. Custer, always seeking attention, was up to new antics.


A Classic Black Hills Blizzard

We awoke to a familiar late-spring ritual in the Black Hills. Two feet of snow, white-out, 100 miles of Interstate closed. However, our 9-month old Black Hills Pack Goats saw nothing familiar at all in this, their first spring season. They slept in, in stubborn denial of the whistling tundra trying to invade their lair. There's little doubt how the poor dog Sherlock feels about it, either.