Coralie

The goat whisperer was surprised to hear the clink of a small piece of slate tripping on another. The sound came from below him, over the edge towards the dark pit of California. And then the sound again. Goat? He moved silently, lightly on his feet, to the buttress overlooking the precipice, and peered over the slate wall along its top. His eyes quickly locked on to a white goat immediately below him, about twenty feet below. She knew he was there but she strode onwards, confidently and carefully over the loose slate hanging along the lip of the quarry. The sight of her surprised him. She was unlike any other goat he had seen in Dinorwic before: all white, lean, ….looking like she was on a long journey. Her haunches hollowed: she hadn’t had much food. And she was alone, a solitary creature. He noticed too she had shed most of her coat in the summer warmth. But instantly she struck him as special: different.

 

It was a couple of months later when he saw her again, having found her place in a herd. She looked in the peak of fitness now, her coat freshly regrown. Really pretty….for a goat. The males had fought over her when she first arrived but it was clear now that one had claimed her as his own. Hmmm, with that sort of attitude it was only a matter of time before she gave him the horn....…up the back side!

 

Done