Whole Goat Care

You may have read this before but it is worth repeating again~~

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Author unknown - possibly Eunice Day of Washington, ME

The Gift of the "Old One"

The young couple had made their usual hurried, pre-Christmas visit to the little
farm where dwelt their elderly parents with their small herd of goats. The farm
had been named Lone Pine Farm because of the huge pine which topped the hill
behind the farm, and through the years had become a talisman to the old man and
his wife, and a landmark in the countryside.

The old folks no longer showed their goats, for the years had taken their toll,
but they sold a little milk, and a few kids each year, and the goats were their
reason for joy in the morning and contentment at day's end.

Crossly, as they prepared to leave, the young couple confronted the old folks.
"Why do you not at least dispose of "The Old One". She is no longer of use to
you. It's been years since you've had either kids or milk from her. You should
cut corners and save where you can. Why do you keep her, anyway?" The old man
looked down at his worn boot, scuffed at the barn floor, and his arm stole
defensively about the Old One's neck as he drew her to him and rubbed her gently
behind the ears. He replied softly, "We keep her because of love. Only because
of love."

Baffled and irritated, the young folks wished the old man and his wife a Merry
Christmas and headed back toward the city as darkness stole through the valley.

So it was, that because of the leave-taking, no one noticed the insulation
smoldering on the frayed wires in the old barn. None saw the first spark at all.
None but the "Old One".
In a matter of minutes, the whole barn was ablaze and the hungry flames were
licking at the loft full of hay. With a cry of horror and despair, the old man
shouted to his wife to call for help as he raced to the barn to save his beloved
goats. But the flames were roaring now, and the blazing heat drove him back. He
sank sobbing to the ground, helpless before the fire's fury.

By the time the fire department arrived, only smoking, glowing ruins were left,
and the old man and his wife. They thanked those who had come to their aid, and
the old man turned to his wife, resting her white head upon his shoulders as he
clumsily dried her tears with a frayed red bandana.

Brokenly he whispered, "We have lost much, but God has spared our home on this
eve of Christmas. Let us, therefore, climb the hill to the old pine where we
have sought comfort in times of despair. We will look down upon our home and
give thanks to God that it has been spared."

And so, he took her by the hand and helped her up the snowy hill as he brushed
aside his own tears with the back of his hand. As they stepped over the little
knoll at the crest of the hill, they looked up and gasped in amazement at the
incredible beauty before them. Seemingly, every glorious, brilliant star in the
heavens was caught up in the glittering, snow-frosted branches of their beloved
pine, and it was aglow with heavenly candles. And poised on it's top most bough,
a crystal crescent moon glistened like spun glass. Never had a mere mortal
created a Christmas tree such as this.

Suddenly, the old man gave a cry of wonder, and incredible joy as he pulled his
wife forward. There, beneath the tree, was their Christmas gift.

Bedded down about the "Old One", close to the trunk of the tree, was the entire
herd, safe. At the first hint of smoke, she had pushed the door ajar with her
muzzle and had led the goats through it. Slowly and with great dignity, never
looking back, she had led them up the hill, stepping daintily through the snow.
The kids were frightened and dashed about. The skittish yearlings looked back at
the crackling, hungry flames, and tucked their tails under them as they licked
their lips and hopped like rabbits. The milkers pressed uneasily against the
"Old One" as she moved calmly up the hill and to safety beneath the pine. And
now, she lay among them and gazed at the faces of those she loved. Her body was
brittle with years, but the golden eyes were filled with devotion as she offered
her gift - because of love.

Only because of love.

that atory was written by Pixie Day. she lived near me in maine & she has saanan's. it is a great story

Fritzie, do you know if it is true?? I have always loved that story.

I adore this story, even though it always makes me weep. I've thought about using it as my Christmas card insert.

kendra i am not sure but i don't think it is true. her house did burn this bast spring but all her goats were o.k.

Rikki!!! Good to see you again!! Yeah I was thinking about trying to make a card next year with it in it!!

Fritzie, talk about bad fate!! I am pretty sure I have seen this for a few years, but then her house burns!! Awful!!