A TV newscast about fainting goats reminded me of the curious things folks harbor in their backyards.

We see fewer emus, ostriches, and yaks than we used to, but there is always something new in the exotic livestock business.

The fainting goat is a little different, though. These animals have been around a long time with little fanfare, until recently.

I’ve never seen a fainting goat in person, but I’m told  they originated in Tennessee around the turn of the century.

The fainting condition results from a genetic disorder (myotomia congenita) that causes the animal’s muscles to tense up when frightened.

Something as innocent as a simple “Boo!” or a .44 magnum fired over their heads will cause these goats to fold up like an accordion. They stay down 10 to 15 seconds.

Then, they get up and walk away just like a professional boxer.
Once the goats’ owners realized this condition was heritable, they began breeding these animals to protect other livestock from predators. The idea was for the goat to keel over at the sight of a predator. By the time the predator was finished with the goat, all of the other livestock has escaped.

This doesn’t sound good to me, but nobody complained until recently. Now the animals rights activists are up in arms about folks breeding goats that faint. I don’t know if it’s genetic or not, but the only thing that gets excited faster than a goat is an animal rights activist.

None of this would have happened if the goat owners hadn’t become smitten with the urge to show off for their neighbors.
Like all livestock producers, these folks wanted to prove their animals were better than somebody else’s. So they organized livestock shows where their goats could compete.

These folks scheduled contests with up to $1,000 for the goat that fainted the quickest or stayed down the longest.

This is a bummer. Who wants to attend a livestock show where the Grand Champion may never get up?

Before anyone could rethink the contest idea, the animal rights activists started fainting, and there was a big controversy. It’s gotten to the point where it’s hard to find a good, spooky goat anymore.

My policy of remaining impartial prevents me from criticizing goat owners or activists. They both have their points.

There is good evidence that all goats carry the fainting gene to some extent; it just takes more to scare some than others. Sheep are the same way. I’ve never owned a fainting sheep, but my shearing techniques have pushed some of them close to the edge.
Besides, if we’re going to throw stones, we need to look in our own backyards. How about folks who raise cats just to see them spit up on the rug?

Readers with questions or comments for Roger Pond may write to him in care of this publication.