11/01/2026
You may or may not have noticed that I’ve been absent for several weeks.
I owe you an explanation.
It wasn’t so much an active choice but more a kind of self-care necessity.
We had an incident on the farm a few weeks ago. It put the safety of myself, my kids, volunteers and the animals at risk.
I received a call on a Friday morning from a woman asking if we could take in her 5 goats. They had purchased and bred them, but their fencing wasn’t sufficient and they could no longer manage them. She needed them gone now.
I explained that we were at capacity but if she sent me her email I would send her some resources.
The following day she called back. This time, while she identified herself, the overwhelming sound on the call was a male voice screaming that he was going to shoot all of the animals, he was tired of them, he could do whatever he wanted with his own goats and he was going to shoot them if I didn’t take them now. The tone was aggressive, erratic and unstable. The woman identified this person as her spouse. I told her that I while I was unable to come and get them, she could bring them to us, but that her husband could NOT set foot on our property. She agreed and said she would be here later in the morning.
In the meantime, we continued with farm chores, a volunteer and her 3 small children arrived and we went about our usual activities. The kids played with the animals and Ray, our guardian dog.
Late morning a Uhaul van pulled up at our gate.
It was the woman with the goats. Her husband was in the driver seat.
I greeted her and told her that I had made it clear that her husband was not welcome. There were animals and children here and I would not put them in danger.
She said they would be quick.
Ray was not convinced. He’s a guardian dog. Yes, his role is to guard the animals from predators, but we are his pack, and he takes our safety seriously. He knew this man was not safe and he let us know. The gate was still closed with Ray and us on one side, the van on the other. Ray was contained but agitated.
The driver started screaming that he didn’t get insurance on the van, if ‘that dog’ scratches it, it would cost him money. He was sick of these &*$ #@ # animals and he was just going to shoot them all.
From that I assumed he was indicating that he had brought a weapon onto MY property.
My daughter took hold of Ray and held him.
I told them to unload the goats now and get off our property. He pulled forward aggressively, almost hitting my daughter and Ray as she led him to the house, skidded through the barnyard gate and released the goats, and then proceeded to release 2 aggressive German Shepherd dogs.
The dogs went after the 5 tiny goats who were running for their lives. Ray pulled to get to them to do his job.
The kids are scared. The dogs ran into the barnyard after the goats, scaring sweet little Lovey our senior, blind pony, and poor Luna.
The woman grabbed one dog, I grabbed the other and literally threw them into the back of the van, as I screamed at them to get off our property (I can assure you that my language was far more colorful than that, but I’ll keep it PG here)
By now, Ray has escaped my daughter’s grasp and is chasing them down the driveway, and they are swerving all over the road actively trying to hit him.
The older girls run after him, but he’s a good boy and knows his boundary, so he stopped at our gate and came home with them.
The aftermath: all 5 goats had various degrees of bite injuries. Mostly small, no sutures required, but their sheer terror made containing them and treating them very difficult.
Luna was shaken up but ok
Lovey, on the other hand, was not ok. In the panic she had run straight into a barn post, huge 6x6 posts that hold up the barn porch. Her scalp was split open all the way down to her skull with a laceration about 8 inches long, requiring 18 stitches.
The kids were shaken up, but they are all farm kids and they had already pivoted to caring for the animals and giving these tiny little pygmy goats candy-themed names.
Once everyone was taken care of, the vet had left, the goats were settled and calm, Ray had been rewarded and our volunteers had gone home, I was stewing.
I called our county police and made a report. I wanted it on record because this man’s words and actions were threatening and aggressive. Law Enforcement were great and a county officer and an animal control officer followed up with me the following Monday.
Most of the people I come across are wonderful. The people we help are grateful and kind. Our supporters are generous to a fault.
But we helped these people too, and they still became a threat.
A threat to my kids, our volunteers, our animals, our peace, to me.
Rescue is hard. On the best of days, it’s hard. I can handle the physical work, the long days, the weather extremes, the lifting, the sore body. I can handle the animals that come to us in devastating condition, losing them no matter how hard we try and choosing to let them go when it’s time. I have a place for that and a way to process it.
Most of my adult career was spent in urban EMS and level 1 trauma centers. I can handle myself. I can handle aggressive people and diffuse situations.
But I’ve never had to do that in the presence of my kids. That changes things. There’s a vulnerability there that doesn’t exist when it’s just you.
I learned that I didn’t yet have a way to process when a person we helped becomes a threat to the people and animals that I love, in my own home.
We open our farm to the public and I’m happy to welcome people, show them the animals, what we do, and how they can help, and the reception has always been warm and kind.
I wasn’t prepared when the opposite happened and I needed some time to work through that.
So that’s why I’ve been absent.
I have lots to update about. Luna, Jazzy (the skinny TB mare), new residents, old friends, fun events.
I’ll catch up, I promise.
