The Hill-Side Goats

President Goatsent went through the letter again. This is most irregular he thought to himself as he chewed on a dandelion. A tortoise living in Hill-Side? That is unheard of. Where will he live? What will he eat? Will the goat-herd tolerate the smell of his scat? Goatsent trotted down and out onto a ledge of rock which he oftentimes used as a podium to make announcements. That afternoon, however, he would use it to call his cabinet members for a meeting. He squared his shoulders, arranged his hoofs as close together as possible then stretched his neck out and bayed a call.

Goats along the slope and in the valleys below perked up their ears to listen to his call. Another bleat. Soon eight large goats separated from their families and raced their ways up to the president. On reaching the wide shelf of small rocks and clinging blooms, they formed a circle around Goatsent.

“Are we all here?” Goatsent asked.

Numero the Treasury Minister said, “Yes, Mr. President. All nine of us are here.”

“Good. I have a little problem that I would like us all to solve together.”

Some of the cabinet members began to lose interest because almost all of Goatsent’s problems never really were problems in the first place. Questions such as the arrangement of rocks along the side of the hill to accommodate frisky young goats, or the promotion of defecating along the less grassy side of the hill so as to distribute seeds into those same areas were all discussed and implemented. However, soon enough they found that young goats will run and jump or trot wherever they wish, and when a goat has to go, he has to go so there will be no scampering to the less grassy side of the hill. Trying to get everyone to adhere to the rules only resulted in very bad public relations.

Goatsent raised his voice as the murmur about him rose. “I have received a letter from Minister Vixen of Jungle. She has requested that we give political asylum to Stefolous, the editor of the Tortoise Express who has been marked as a fugitive by the president of that region.”

Numero said, “Our situation now is very delicate. We are having problems with President Fox because of the money the region owes us. Giving political asylum to this journalist will only compound the problem.”

Gruff, the minister in charge of plants and growing things, said, “Tortoises also need bodies of water do they not? If he soaks in our water, will we be poisoned?”

“I don’t think they need to soak all the time like turtles,” Goatsent said, “but he might need somewhere warm and moist.”

Numero said, “But our place here is cold and windy, just the way we like it. The last thing we need is a journalist who will make all kinds of rude comments about our living environment.”

Ridget, a goat in charge of communications, said, “But we don’t know that he will do such a thing. Maybe having a professional journalist like him will help improve our communications skills.”

“Or it will make our situation worse,” Gruff said. “How will he eat? Where will he stay? How will he even climb up the hills? His eloquence might even persuade our young to complain about us. Is that not why he is a fugitive? Because he slandered Fox without due cause? ”

Voices rose as heads nodded or bumped into the horns of their neighbors until Goatsent said, “However, it has always been our policy to give sanctuary to animals that request for it. It will not do to change this policy now.”

Numero suggested, “Maybe we should at least find out how everyone else feels about Stefolous. Wolf is publicly against Fox, so maybe he can give us some idea about whether we should give the editor asylum or not?”

Yes, Goatsent decided, asking Wolf would give him more time to think the matter through. Who knows, by then maybe Stefolous may no longer need to come to Hill-Side. He didn’t have to make a decision now, he could wait for Wolf’s reply.

“Thank you, Numero. That is very prudent advice,” Goatsent said. “I must admit, expecting us all to reach a decision just based on one letter was a little too hasty. I will talk with Wolf and ask for his opinion. Maybe he might even want to offer protection to Stefolous.”

A round of nodding heads and a handful of uttered ‘ayes’ assured him that he had made the right decision. Then the goats dispersed and returned to their hastily abandoned meals in a more leisurely manner. Goatsent wrote a reply to Vixen, saying that the goats needed more time to consider the request, especially since they could not think of anywhere to put Stefolous comfortably. Then he wrote another letter addressed to Wolf and requested for a meeting. The bats would be flying past before sundown, so he draped a bundle of goat’s hair over a scraggly branch to signal that he needed to deliver mails before hunkering down to wait for a post-bat to collect the letters from him.

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