The Guard Rail, and a Definite Concussion

Can you come up here by me in case we have to shoo off some dogs? Sophie said from the front, first thing in the morning.

Sure. I said and started hurrying up from the rear.

Running? We’re Running! Said Oatcake, and ran up behind me and attempted to pass me. His panniers hit me in the back of the legs and knocked me off my feet. I landed on my knee, then my hip, then the side of my head bounced off the pavement. I was afraid they’d step on me, so I sat up right away and gave a good, loud What The Fuck.

Sophie came right back but she hadn’t seen it.

I hit my head, I told her. I’m okay.

I got up and we chilled out for a minute and then we continued along, Bosco being Bosco and everyone else behaving. Awe sparkling in the morning eyes of everyone we passed made my heart warm and I figured I would’ve felt the same way just one short year ago if I’d seen the same thing on a camping trip. Two women in dresses and four goats with packs and panniers. Dreamy, childlike magic for sure. Something I’d go home and talk about.

For us it was just Morning-Time.

We came to a dam. The water wasn’t flowing high over the rock dam, but it was much wider than anything we’d crossed before, and considering the whole butt hanging low-falling over thing that happened last time they went through water, we couldn’t chance that happening on a long stretch of the same. What if they fell in? What if they soaked our gear? What if?

Anyway, the way around was a road. Which was no less appealing. We chose to take a look at the road and headed over. Sophie didn’t like it. I scouted around and figured we could go through the forest and cross the water in a different place which was much more narrow and doable.

I was changing my shoes for the water crossing when Bosco got a bug up his ass and ran straight uphill to the guard rail. We screamed for him. The rest of the goats followed. We screamed some more and scrambled up the hill. Jon Snow tried to leap over the Guard Rail into the road. Into the road where the traffic was coming around the corner at 55 mph and couldn’t see us until they were on top of us. I turned into Momma Bear and just picked him up and threw him back over the guard rail. Just about then, Oatcake ran his pannier into one of the posts of the guard rail. It knocked his bags over his back and his entire saddle turned over so it was hanging on his belly. He got scared and started running. His 220 pounds of enormous goat tripped over the saddle and he went to his knees. I leaped around him and dragged his saddle and panniers from under him.

Sophie yelled at me to get uphill from him or he’d knock me down the slope. She was right. I moved and between the two of us, we got him righted again. Sophie managed to catch Bosco and then she ran to the nearest cross road. All the goats ran after her. I ran after all of them.

When we were safe, I started sobbing. My head hurt from my fall and I kept picturing Jon Snow getting hit by a car. Sophie made me promise to keep myself safe but I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t do everything I could to save my babies. She wrapped her arms around me and told me I’d done a good job. She told me I was brave and kind and good.

I felt better, so we found a picnic table. Let’s Stress Eat, she said. Okay, I said.

We would’ve had to cross private property to continue on our way to the truck, and we couldn’t find anyone to ask. We turned away when some guy pulled down his pants to pee next to the bathrooms because he didn’t see us with our goats tied up in the woods, and I guess he didn’t want to go inside…

I waited for half-naked guy to be well and gone before I started hitch hiking to get the truck. We’d had enough for the day and didn’t want to have any more trouble for the last mile or two finishing our route. Who knows how far it actually was, since our map had no mileage…

No one picked me up, even though I was wearing a dress and looked very nice. I blame COVID. But I got there and I drove back and picked up the gang and drove all the way back to Mom’s, dropped off the goats, and then back to Sophie’s and then home.

By the time I got home, I’d been fighting to stay awake for hours. I had no business driving. I spent the next few days drifting in and out of sleep. Maybe in and out of consciousness.

A Definite Concussion.