By TRINA SEVERSON
Guest Columnist
Editor’s note: Enjoy this story from Trina Severson, who is filling in this week for Scott Saalman. He’s probably out somewhere taking photos of dogs reading his latest book.
It was late fall and I’d been wanting to try something new, something fun and social and active. And here, in a captivating post in my Facebook feed, was what I’d been searching for: Goat Yoga. I checked my calendar and registered.
When the day and time finally came, I arrived early. The host, surrounded by my soon-to-be pint-sized friends, waved me over. I stepped over the knee-high fence and joined the others in a grassy circle. I unrolled my exercise mat on the ground, sat down, and exhaled. I was about to experience Goat Yoga.
I’d been curious about this activity since discovering the trend a couple of years earlier. The idea is simple enough. Yoga, but in the company of goats. They mix among the humans, often climbing and balancing on guests during downward dog and cat poses. They frequently dole out playful head-butts, nibbles, and snuggles. I’d been careful to follow our host’s advice to remove all dangling jewelry, secure loose clothing and place all valuables safely outside of the Goat Circle.
We began. I laid on my back and closed my eyes, breathing mindfully. This would be a challenge for me. Even in the serenity of traditional yoga spaces it’s hard for me to find my center. Add in a wind advisory and a dozen sociable goats and there’s little chance. Maybe a goat mixer with hors d’oeuvres and bluegrass music would be more my speed. But where would I find that?
I closed my eyes and strained to hear our instructor’s voice over the howling wind. Was I still following along? Or was everyone else already up, standing tall in mountain poses as I lay on the ground taking deep belly breaths, dreaming of fried pickles and banjos? I peeked. No. We were all still in sync. A little goat grazing a few inches from my elbow gave me an encouraging look. I reached out to scratch her head.
As we rose into the Cobra Pose, I thought I heard a cry of distress. Had someone in class pulled a muscle? Was it a goat bleating? I couldn’t tell, so I opened one eye and turned my head toward the sound. It was a big chicken, wandering the perimeter of the pen, pecking for food. All was well. I closed my eye and tried again to focus and bring my awareness inward.
Really, who was I kidding? (No pun intended.) I was just here for the goats. I find animals incredibly therapeutic, and these are stressful times. What if I became so focused on my yoga movements that I missed a chance to pet a goat?
I tried to stay the course as our instructor’s calm voice prompted us through a meditative sequence. A big oak leaf thwacked me in the cheek during the Bridge Pose and startled my eyes open. I took the opportunity to do a quick scan for goats, made brief happy eye contact with a little spotted billy named Rocky, and closed my eyes again.
As the class went on, the goats mingled about. A tiny one capered over and pressed its head against my calf during the Warrior Pose. A sweet little doe came by to see if maybe I had any food to share during the Eagle Pose. I was getting my money’s worth. During the Tree Pose, I focused on Daisy Mae, who stood like a statue in front of me chewing her cud meditatively. She’d certainly found her center.
Editor’s note: Sure, they may make great yoga companions, but don’t look them directly in their weird, rectangular eyes! (Photo provided by Trina Severson)
I’ve always liked goats, despite my earliest experience with one ending badly. I was a six-year-old city kid visiting the county fair’s petting zoo. And I was very proud of my long pigtails and the bright red ribbons my mother had tied around them.
An inquisitive nanny goat named Gladys found them equally fascinating. I tried to handle the issue my own, but ultimately my dad needed to step in and save me and my prized hair accessories from Gladys.
Today’s Goat Yoga trend doesn’t surprise me. Humans and goats go way back. They were the first animal we ever domesticated more than 10,000 years ago. They’re so useful – dairy, meat, fiber, manure, weed control. Goats could even rival dogs as man’s best friend. They can form social bonds with humans. They gaze at us like dogs do. They wag their tails when they’re happy. Abraham Lincoln had two goats named Nanny and Nanko who pulled his sons through the White House hitched to carts and kitchen chairs. Social media is loaded with goat videos and memes. Google funny goat videos and the returns are endless. Dogs and cats should be concerned. I was hooked. I’d found my new favorite exercise routine.
So, while yoga under a blue October sky sounded wonderful in itself, adding goats to the equation was all the incentive I – and apparently countless others around the nation – needed to grab my water bottle and yoga mat and head for the farm. Namaste.