I brought four goats home with me Sunday evening.
No, they’re not real goats – the kind that will eat the weeds out of my perennial gardens and keep me from having to mow the lawn every few days.
These are the kind that immediately found a home in my display case.
The folks and I took a drive down to Spirit Lake Sunday afternoon to visit the big flea market extravaganza. I like to get down there at least once a year, though as my mom can tell you, I don’t need another thing crammed into my lovely little house.
However, I can always find room for another goat, or two, or three.
Goat collectibles are difficult to find … this I know.
My collection has been ongoing for about 30 years and, though I thinned the herd out just once to earn some extra money, I’ve amassed a meager collection.
The newest additions have already become favorites – a goat pulling a flower cart with a pair of ducks sitting atop it (it’s a musical piece … you turn the wheel and it plays "Chariots of Fire"), a little white goat gracing the top of a thimble, a wooden goat (I had one of these previously in my collection, but its front leg broke off in one of the many moves I’ve made), and finally, an empty can of Schell’s Bock beer (it has an adorable goat on the front of the can). This is the first beer can in my goat collection.
I can’t really say which of the pieces in my collection is my absolute favorite. Some of them have special stories behind them, some are simply unique and all remind me of my childhood years raising goats on the family farm south of Worthington.