Yesterday, Snow Leopard made the comment ‘Having three goats must make for some interesting goat politics‘. That is a good observation, so I thought today I would try to describe their hierarchy. Goats have their position on the social ladder decided by head-butting contests. They battle each other like medieval knights, one-on-one. Here’s how to win:
1. Height rules, so stand on higher ground than your opponent and then get up on your hind legs.
2. Cock your head sideways and eye your opponent’s head.
3. Butt your horns downwards on to the other goat. She will just stand there while you are doing this.
Next, charge at your opponent’s side and butt her in the ribs as hard as you can.
Repeat these steps until your opponent runs away (you have won).
It is not as straightforward as it sounds, though. The biggest one in the herd isn’t necessarily head goat. It takes time to learn fighting skills. Supposing you are a short, but ambitious goat and you want to make an impression on the others: a good trick is to hook your horns underneath your opponent’s body and jerk your head upwards fast. It’s not just physical, brains play nearly as big a part as brawn. Being able to convince your opponents you’re unbeatable isn’t a question of size, it is about how confident you appear even when inside you might feel like running away. It’s like becoming a good poker player, you have to learn how to bluff. It’s fun to watch a contest because you can see all this going through the winner’s mind as they’re doing battle.
What’s the point of being head goat? It is mostly about food. You get first choice of everything while the others just stand back and wait until you are finished. If there is a catch it is that the other goats are going to be expecting you to stand in front when they come face to face with a panting great dane. You never know how goats are going to react with a dog: sometimes they run, sometimes the dog runs, sometimes they all run and sometimes they just sniff each other. It isn’t about size, there’s a lot more to it than that: body-language things, carnivores and herbivores.
We have three Angora (or Mohair) goats: Holly; her cousin Misty, who is her age and breed——part Asiatic and part Texas (Texas is smaller, but with the softest, finest wool)——and Vesle (Vesle means ‘Tiny’ in Norwegian) who is unrelated to the others, one year older and a Texan goat.
Vesle is really small, pure Texas, no bigger than a retriever, although unsheared she seems a lot fatter——more like a little pig than a dog. Vesle gets beaten up by Misty all the time, but although she is much smaller than Holly, as well, of those two it’s Vesle who is the boss. Early on, when Holly was small, she won the head-butting and now she keeps her position by giving Holly at least one butt every day. Holly isn’t bottom, it’s a vicious circle——literally——what happens is this: Holly butts Misty, Misty charges at Vesle and Vesle hooks Holly from underneath. So Holly butts Misty again and they do the whole thing one more time, only running.
A Bad Guide 
Foxes kill lambs; do they kill kids too? Some British farmers claim that a good way to protect a flock’s lambs is to have a couple of llamas with the flock – very good at driving away foxes apparently. How d’ye think llamas would get on with goats?
Wikipedia says I’m wrong and that one llama per flock is enough – and it implies that they consort happily with goats.
Do they have a different set of behaviors toward you and your family, or do they just treat you like More Goats?
You clearly have a natural talent for being a goat herd if this law thing doesn’t work out, what a perceptive question. When we got the goats two of them were three months old and the little one, Vesle, was a year old. We slept on straw with them for two weeks on the floor of their goat house so that they would, as you say, treat us like part of their herd. And it’s worked out that way. They never butt us, though, except Holly, the biggest one. She butts if she gets REALLY pissed off for some reason, usually something to do with food. Holly is very emotional.
It is a weird feeling to be woken up in the middle of the night, and you’re nose to nose with a goat who is peering down at you.
Funnily enough, we’ve never been bothered by foxes. One died on our doorstep once (it had mange, poor thing) and I often hear them in the woods. They have never even tried to get into our henhouse.
Some people have their sheep taken by wolves, here.
My daughter wants to get llamas (you must always have two so they don’t get lonely). I would say it ain’t gonna happen, except that’s what I said about the horse and the dogs and the goats and the hens and the parrots. If it were up to me — which it isn’t, most of the time — I’d get two cows, I love cows. There are cows up the road, overwintering in the stable with our horse.
In answer to your question, I think llamas would get on fine with goats, what with them all being herbivores. Our goats even tolerate our dogs.
It’s interesting to see that, unlike humans, they don’t play identity politics and treat each other differently according to breed.
I wondered though if you ever tried to discourage the head-butting thing. I have always tried to train my animals not be aggressive, whether it was biting people or fighting other animals–unless of course someone was threatening me.
I should have said that most of the time the way they butt each other is extremely ritualised, like a game, or like knights jousting. So you wouldn’t want to stop that.
The other thing is I’m always worried some dog is going to take a bite out of one of them — I don’t really want to discourage herbivores from seeming fierce. Actually what’s supposed to happen with goats when they are attacked is they take flight, like sheep, but then they turn and fight using their horns.
We’ve only had one accident: when Holly suddenly butted a small visiting child, totally out of the blue. The kid may have been irritating her in some way, but it’s more likely Holly was just asking her to get out of the way, that’s how they do it. .There were tears, but no injury.
In my limited experience, which has never involved goats, the smarter animals sometimes know the difference between human adults and human children and are more indulgent and protective toward the latter. Have you noticed this with your charming trio? Also, do you think that Holly’s being the only one to butt people is a function of her status as Head Goat, or is it more a matter of her individual temperament?
[…] instance, what about goat politics? In the section on Head Butting, all is […]
I haven’t noticed that they are especially nice to children, but each of them behaves differently towards people in general. When we take them for walks, Vesle, the little one, always makes for the nearest group of people. I think it’s because she’s the low man on the goat totem pole, but she’s always had pretty good treatment from humans, and she likes the attention. That doesn’t mean she’d rather be with humans all the time, though. Given the choice, she always sticks with her herd.
You are very perceptive about Holly. It’s both: she butts in her role as head goat and also because she’s so emotional. She is the best one to be the leader, though. She’s very fair with the other two — whereas if it were Misty or Vesle who were in charge, the power would go to their heads and it would be a disaster.