It started one dusk-saturated evening last summer, after the dinner dishes had been washed and put away. We were rocking gently in metal chairs on the cantilever deck 30+ feet above the dense, echoey greenway behind our house. The same greenway we are restoring to support the beaver family that spends its springs and summers here. It's been a labor of love for some time now.
Thirty-two goats had been munching their way through an acre or so of wetland invasives, mostly blackberries, grass and nettles, across four neighbors' backyards. The goats were there to clear the land before we could plant the three dozen willows gifted us by a local nursery. They marched single file down our driveway and through our yard because it has the easiest access, and because we are up on stilts there is a large open space perfect for night time shelter. By this time the peaceful little darlings had been working long enough to eat their way south into Terry's and Becky's property, returning under our house to bed down.
