UNDYING UNGULATION

Recently, the following was posted in our property owner’s association newsletter and herein also lies my subsequent response.

“People at Rancho Tujunga noticed a herd of 12+ goats wandering and grazing along the western edge of Big T. canyon this morning. These aren't indigenous and were just noticed for the first time today. Has anyone in the area had animals escape or have any idea where they may have come from?”  [signed Penny]

Charlie, frolicking

Dear Penny,

  

Three weeks ago I had taken my GSD up to Big Tujunga to hike, as we often do.  No biggie.  We usually hike for about 1.5 hours and then go home.  On this particular day, I decided to go northeast instead of southwest.  We traversed unknown paths, espied ducks, herons, lizards, snakes, and the usual flora.

Up to this point, Charlie, the GSD, had NEVER seen a duck, let alone a heron.  When she first espied the ducks, she lost her mind and rushed to overtake them in the stream.  As they SHOT straight up into the sky, Charlie whipped her head around at me as if to say, "WTH was that????"  After she splashed in the rivulet for a while, looking for a scent to make certain they weren't apparitions, she lost interest and recommenced her exploration of the new direction in which we were going.

What ARE those?

Later, we came upon a grand white heron on spindly red legs, straddling rocks mid-stream on our way northward.  Once Charlie caught sight of this THING, she again, bounded forward, determined to not let this new-found monster elude her.  Alas, once again, it flew up, up, and away.  Charlie was aghast!

Dejectedly, she followed me as we continued on our way, picking  through the bramble and crossing bubbling streams.

The THING

We wound our way through odd terrain until a very loud and completely out-of-context sound struck our ears.  A loud and insistent bleating came from an area up and to our right.  The pleas were repetitive and, it seemed, fraught with sorrow.  I was determined to discover what this was.  Oh, SURE, I thought it was some kind of ungulate, but was it wild and free, or, worse, in trouble?  I would rescue it!

I continued in the direction of the sound, rather bravely, I thought.  And naturally, I thought Charlie was at my heels.

Uh-uh. No Way.

Once I came upon "it", I was flabbergasted.  It was, indeed, a 200+ pound goat.  Roped and chained to trees. You can only imagine my shock.  My head WHIPPED around because I had seen Jurassic Park and knew what chained bait looked like and, furthermore, I did NOT want to be between The Bait and Whatever was going to Eat It! 

Suddenly, I realize my brave protector, Charlie, the Fierce, the Magnificent, is standing a good 15 yards back from where I was.  Her eyes wide, her ears erect, her legs braced for a quick escape.  Her very posture just screamed:  "You can look if you want, but I want room to move, and move fast, if need be!".  Under NO circumstances would she approach; not after the disappearing ducks and the heron-in-a-hurry incidents.

Bill the Randy

Knowing I could never unleash the beast, I scrambled to give it whatever flora I thought it would want.  After some time of cooing and petting and scratching the big guy, I started back in the direction of Charlie-the-Trembling and made haste to go home and call the ASPCA, the Department of Animal Control and every other group in the universe to help this poor baby.

We eventually made it back to the truck after about 2.5 hours.  Once home, my phone calls began.  Long story short: ASPCA turned me over to DAC who agreed to send an agent up there to meet me and we would then discover what abuse was being done!  HAH!

I met the agent and had to take her on yet another 1.5 hour excursion into the "wilds".  Once we neared the area, we were confronted by a man, a trifle spooky, I might add, who hollered over at us, "Hey, you're on Private Property!!!!  My companion identified herself as an officer and had to let loose that I was the one who reported an animal in trouble.  (Sheesh, so much for my anonymity!).

Hmmm, has Michael Vic seen this?

The officer told him she wanted to see the goat for herself.  That goat's name, the man told us, is "Bill".  After much sprinkling of small talk about the area, official concerns, and conversational breastmilk, we were told that "Bill" was tied off because (1) he's very, very, randy, (2) his quarters were being rebuilt and he had to remain outside, (3) he is very territorial about his females (those 14+ privately owned goats about whom you are concerned), and (4) he "gets into it" with the owner's only other male goat.

Would have been helpful!

This land upon which we stood is privately owned, not fenced, there were no "No Trespassing" signs to be seen.  The property has been in the family since the late 1800's.  The owner is trying to establish some kind of preserve for the public to someday view.  It's not in the forseeable future as money is an issue.

Did I ever get home that day?  Yes.  But from start to finish, it was a five hour day thanks to my obsession for animal safety.  Clearly, I need another passion a little less strenuous.

Makes my heinie pinch!

I would recommend that you hike southwest.  But then, again, there are always weird and quirky things to be found in that direction, as well.  I came upon many encampments in THAT direction constructed of blue tarp, cardboard boxes, makeshift tents, laundry baskets by the streams, fragments of human life, and other such detritus, as you near the area just past, but parallel to, the nursery.  When it's very, very quiet, your mind can start traveling to places you wish it wouldn't, such as "Deliverance". 

On the day that I discovered the Tent Cities, Charlie disappeared.  She's back but....that was another FIVE HOUR excursion into the canyon.

And a story for another day!

Happy trails!

Pam Fernicola

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