…The
mesa was divided by a barbed wire fence that held a herd of goats. In the
middle of the fenced area was a small A-frame a little bigger than a pup-tent.
I asked around to find out who lived there and it was presently vacant. There
were a few temporary structures from the previous year around the property that
were lived in until the more permanent pueblo or hogans were built (the wickiup
I mentioned was one such place). I liked the idea of living among the goats and
moved into the A-frame after sharing the wickiup with a half dozen other young
men for a week or two. The A-frame was comfortable, having a door on one end
and a small hooded fire-pit with an adobe chimney at the other. It could
comfortably sleep two people and had a larger fire-pit outside in front of the
place.
My
first night sleeping in the A-frame was one of tremendous relief. At last I had
a place of my own. I sat by the open fire pit and, as the coals burned down. I
retired inside the A-frame, taking some of the live coals and starting a fire in
the small adobe hearth at the far end of the frame. I wrote in my journal: First
night… at home, high above the plain and deep inside my fortress, I will sleep
well tonight. I snuffed the flame in
the kerosene lamp and drifted off to sleep. I awoke just before sunrise to the
sound of hooves on the roof. As I came out of the A-frame to see what was on
the roof, Charley-goat, the alpha-male greeted me with a, “eh-eh-eh-a-a-ah!” It
was the beginning of a testy but sweet relationship. Charley made sure that I
knew exactly who was in charge of things in his pasture by sneaking up and
gently butting me from behind as I walked across from the A-frame to the gate.
The trick was to never react one way or another. If I were to make a break and
run for it I would be run down and run down rather violently. To stand my
ground and push back was an even bigger mistake because goats love the push-back.
It isn’t enough to push a little and walk away. Once the push-back has been
initiated you are committed until a Huey comes and med-evacs your ass.
I
was pleased with my digs and enjoyed the solitude of living in the goat
pasture. There was something that felt biblical about it. One afternoon I was
sitting by my fire pit and enjoying a pot of rice and beans. I looked out
across the mesa and saw a very dark cloud approaching. It was at eye level and
looked apocalyptic as it neared. The sky was clear otherwise but soon the
thunderhead took up the whole horizon. It was ominous enough that I was struck
with fear for a moment and, as a bolt of lightening burst through fifty feet
from where I was sitting, I felt naked and exposed. It exploded with such force
I found myself flat on the ground. The storm wasn’t done with me yet, however;
bolts of lightening thundered, booming barrages like a cannonade, striking all
around my spot on the mesa. Awe replaced the fear as I surrendered to the fact
that there was absolutely nothing I could do… there was nowhere to run or hide.
My little A-frame was the most prominent thing to cower in on the entire mesa.
I saw the goats huddled, huddled down together under the piñón trees for
protection from the hail stones and rain. Charlie bravely stood his ground and
watched over his girls and kids. Even goats heed the call of leadership and its
attendant responsibilities in the face of horror. Charlie had earned his
stripes as Alpha Goat on this and countless other occasions.
The
storm passed almost as fast as it arrived. I crawled out from the cover of the
A-frame; the odor of argon-electricity and fresh rainfall had wakened my
senses. About that time an old bread-truck rumbled up into the parking lot
between the goat pasture and the pueblo. A middle-aged man in a fringed jacket
that was driving jumped out as soon as the bread-truck stopped. I walked over
to check out the new arrivals. The winos at the parking lot fire pit had headed
for shelter when the storm dumped its load so I was there before they could pan-handle
the newcomers. I offered a greeting, “Hello…”
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