Originally published: . Volume 9, No. 8. Source pages: 2.
by Times publisher, J. Nelson I came to have goats on my front porch because of the Louisiana Psychological Association.
In 2016 I went against the advice of my journalism consultant and put my name in the hat for president of the Louisiana Psychological Association. My decision also went counter to a warning (threat?) from Archimedes, who turned out to be right about the stress (my president-elect year was a year from hell) and the workload, but wrong about the emotional rewards of working to help restore scientific psychology to itself. Archimedes and I have a bargaining type of social exchange for when we disagree, so he has taken his pound of flesh by turning our home into a small farm, part of his research into ecologically engineered, homesteading science, he claims. So, I had no choice but to bite back any objections when he brought home two, female, Saanen milk-goats.
Growing up in the rural south, I’d been exposed to goats. But, it never struck me before that because of their miraculous, four-chambered stomachs, goats can extract high levels of energy from what is not, in my view, actual food––bushes, trees, weeds, briars, and sticks. So for very little trouble, including the mostly benign pellets that come out the other end, these creatures produce milk (if someone wanted to milk them) and also do a commendable job of landscaping, tackling problems your yard man ignores because he can’t solve them on his riding lawnmower.
The system is building organically. Soon after Archimedes brought home the two goats, he decided he needed a livestock guardian dog and purchased a Maremma puppy. The puppy seemed lonely to him so he bought her a companion, a sister from the same litter. These two dogs have embraced their job of guarding the goats with enthusiasm, so Archimedes bought more goats for them to guard, and is planning on adding chickens. The animals (with the exception of the cat) happily trail around behind him as he walks around the yard, inspecting whatever it is that he inspects. All this gives the impression of a “farm,” and provides an excuse, albeit lame, for goats relaxing on my front porch.
An unexpected benefit of these gentle, friendly, and peaceful creatures is that they communicate a serenity that is contagious. Perhaps related to their eyes and rectangular pupils, the goals have a consistently innocent and thoughtful look to them. Coupled with their relaxed, leisurely movements, they appear not to have a care in the world. They sit and chew their cud, called “ruminating,” and it is oddly calming to watch them, and share in their meditation, if only for a moment or two, while the world rushes by in all its speed and fury.
Edward O. Wilson has said that the emotional apparatus for the home, “…came from one million years…” of hunter-gatherers life, “… an existence that depended on an intimate relationship to the natural world, and appreciation of all the natural world qualities, and love of the home…”
The Louisiana Psychological Association is bringing in another evolutionary giant, Robert Trivers, one of my favorite scientists of all time, to explain the complex theory behind the interplay of ethics and social traits. Considering both Professor Trivers and the milk goats on my porch, I just may have gotten the better end of the bargain with Archimedes.
[Julie Nelson is a licensed psychologist, journalist, and organizational consultant, and publisher of the Times. She also holds other various positions in the community. However, her opinions here are those of her own, and do not represent any group or association. She and the Times receive no compensation other than paid advertizing. Email her at drj@drjulienelson.com, ––she welcomes feedback.]
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