Gorging a Path

In a steep, overgrown ravine in the Steiner Ranch neighborhood west of Austin, dozens of goats are buzz sawing their way through a thicket of brambles.

The ruminants work through the brush like furry, four-legged locusts, pausing now and then to share a goofy grin accented with slobbery bits of greenery. Their jaws work nearly nonstop, chewing plants along a trail that winds between houses.

The goats are here to work, hired hands in an army deployed to reduce the risk of wildfire. A blaze in Steiner Ranch during the hot, dry summer of 2011 destroyed 23 homes, and officials are eager to prevent another disaster.

That’s why a homeowners association there teamed with Lake Travis Fire Rescue to hire 100 goats from Rent-A-Ruminant as part of an experimental fire mitigation program. The animals spent a week clearing out brush on 7 hard-to-access acres. After they make a first pass, human volunteers finish the job, cutting down and removing downed trees and other fire fuel.

Goats, proponents say, are cheaper, greener and safer than humans with lawn mowers or herbicides that could work their way into waterways. And they’re cute.

“They go where man, machine and chemicals can’t go,” says Carolyn Carr, co-owner of Rent-A-Ruminant.

Goatscaping, as it’s sometimes called, is just one form of modern-day goat employment. Besides putting the animals to work clearing poison ivy from urban hiking trails or tidying up grass growing around solar panels, goats can inject a bit of fun into social activities such as yoga, wine tastings and parties.

Bleating and Eating

Carolyn and her husband, Kyle Carr, own a herd of about 600 goats in Brownwood. They hire their animals out to private landowners, municipalities and businesses. Goats, they say, are an eco-friendly solution to maintaining landscaping projects large and small.

The Carrs’ herd is made up of nine breeds of goat. Almost all the animals have names, which are noted on brightly colored tags attached to their floppy ears.

“Goats are great,” Carolyn says as they stream out of a trailer and into a cordoned-off area of land at Steiner Ranch. Curious residents have gathered to watch the proceedings.

The Carrs started their business after inheriting an overgrown piece of property in Brownwood, about 80 miles southeast of Abilene. Carolyn joked at the time that they needed a herd of “green grazers” to tidy things up.

It turned out to be a smart suggestion. Kyle’s father had been a Xerox salesman, with plenty of connections at municipalities around the state. They quickly learned that many of those cities needed help controlling brushy overgrowth.

Goats can clamber up and down steep slopes and reach awkward spaces that heavy machinery can’t access. They also clip vegetation growing along sensitive waterways where herbicides shouldn’t be used. Best of all? They love plants that make humans itch or stab them with thorns or assault airways, including green briar, poison ivy, ragweed and blackberries.

The Carrs travel the state with their herd, which has trimmed up Hermann Park in Houston, munched invasive species while all but ignoring the lush lawn at the Houston Arboretum, and cut back poison ivy along the Ann and Roy Butler Hike-and-Bike Trail around Lady Bird Lake in downtown Austin.

But not just any goat can make the Rent-A-Ruminant team. Only quiet goats that don’t pester people for food can become part of the traveling work crew, Carolyn says.

Sometimes, onlookers set up chairs to watch the goats in action. That’s fine with the Carrs, as long as the humans don’t distract the animals by feeding or petting them.

“They have a job to do, and this is not a petting zoo,” Carolyn says.

Sheep, she says, can do similar work, such as “mowing grass” that grows around rows of sun-collecting panels at solar farms. Both species have their niche—sheep prefer grass over leaves, making them good at keeping lawns and weeds in check. Goats prefer leaves, so they’re better at tidying up unruly brush.

In Steiner Ranch, the experiment seems to be working. The HOA and fire department split the $9,000 tab to hire the goats, and even after a few hours, the difference is obvious.

“We have a lot of area and so much poison ivy,” says Debbie Tanner-Jacobs, president of the Steiner Ranch Residential Owners Association.

As a bonus, the goats leave behind a little fertilizer, in the form of their droppings. Goats, Carolyn Carr notes, sterilize seeds that pass through their bodies, so they can’t repropagate those pesky plants.

Kidding Around

San Antonio-based Goat Shenanigans puts goats to work in a different way.

On a crisp afternoon in January, 10 goat enthusiasts convene at Blue Lotus Winery in Seguin, where they sip wine and cuddle a pair of Nigerian dwarf goats, each just three or four weeks old.

Besides happy hours with goats, the company organizes yoga classes, toddler gatherings, movie nights and beer tastings, all in the company of adorable baby goats.

They’ll even deliver a “goat gram”—a livelier version of the traditional candy gram—to your home to celebrate a special occasion. A single-goat visit lasts 20–30 minutes, but you can add additional ruminants to the order.

Goat Shenanigans also offers ranch visits. Visitors can pay for a 10-, 30- or 60-minute session on the goats’ home turf, on the northwest side of San Antonio.

“Whenever a goat is involved, it’s going to be a good time,” says Laura Romer, manager of Goat Shenanigans. “The best thing about them is they have different personalities. A cow is a cow, but a goat has its own unique personality. They’re very loving, very playful and emotionally intelligent. They bring out so much joy in people.”

The goats seem to enjoy their work. Aside from a chorus of high-pitched bleats that sound like out-of-tune harmonicas, they zoom around an outdoor patio at the winery and accept an overflow of snuggles from their admirers.

“They’re not afraid of people,” Romer says. “They’re motivated by food and love to be cuddled.”

Allyson Marek of San Marcos learned about Goat Shenanigans through social media and bought tickets for the wine tasting with goats for herself and her parents for Christmas.

“They’re just so cute and mischievous and silly,” Marek says as she holds one, a bright-eyed armful of soft hair named Thor with a tongue that sticks out with each bleat. “Oh my gosh, amazing. They’re so soft, so chill, so very awesome.”

One day, when she has enough land, Marek says, she hopes to own her own herd. She dreams of raising goats for their milk and to make cheese and soap.

Another afternoon, a dozen children and their parents (along with a few adults who can’t resist) gather at the Hive coffee shop in South Austin to mingle on an outdoor patio with four animated, beagle-sized baby goats.

“I like how they’re kind of like dogs but cuter,” says Evelyn Jackson, who has come to the event with her mother, a sister and a friend.

All around Jackson, kids—the human kind—offer the hardworking goats kibble and pet their soft bodies. Two of the goats wander into the coffee shop’s garden, where they sample herbs growing in a raised bed. Another hops onto a picnic table and stares down a woman sitting there.

“How can you be upset with a baby goat in your arms?” asks goat wrangler Sarah O’Brien, who is doing her best to keep her charges in line.

You can’t. And that’s why we need more goats in the workforce.