breaking news

My dear fellow OVMs. I spotted the elusive mermoufflon on the lovely island of Syros. Or at least that was my first impression and I sincerely hope that I was not carried away with overexcitement. I am returning to the sighting spot tomorrow and plan to secrete myself in the pampas grass until I manage to get a good picture and post it here exclusively. Wish me luck.

Troglodyte sheep invents art-form

There is no doubt among members of the Order that ovicaprids have inspired great works of art. Countless artists have drawn upon their grace, dignity and power, using them as a sort of ruminant Muse. What, though, of the ovicaprids’ own urge to express themselves?

Some glimpse into the creative yearnings of the sheep, at least (we are not told what breed), comes from Indonesian province of Pacitan. For there, we were deeply fascinated to learn from a BBC Worldservice programme, lies the Tabuhan Cave. This cave is called the Cave of Music, for the rock formations therein possess the strange quality that, if struck, they produce a pleasing and tuneful note. Local villagers come to the cave often and so hammer upon the stalagmites and stalactites as to produce a haunting and beautiful music.

Reader, it was not the villagers who discovered the properties of this cave. No; it was not until (many years ago) a shepherd and his flock took refuge there that the discovery was made. For a forever nameless but magnificent sheep came into sharp contact with a stalactite, thereby emitting a sonorous tone and filling the subterranean chamber with unexpected music. A happy accident, many would say; a chance encounter of a high-speed sheep and an immobile rock formation, a random blunder which only serves to illustrate, if anything, the clumsiness of this ruminant. Well, we do not think so. That sheep knew what she was about, and, at a single stroke, expressed herself, created a new musical form, and secured a substantial tourist-income for her village for decades to come.

The villagers still make music in the Tabuhan Cave, though there are fears that their ancient art may be in decline. Whether sheep are permitted to attend – or occasionally perform – is not at the moment clear.

The OVM salutes...

…those noble members, agents and operatives who have recently left for field operations. You know who you are. Rest assured that we here at the General Outreach, Advice & Teaching Service (GOATS) of the OVM will strive to continue our work of education and enlightenment, and will be monitoring your progress. We know that you will fulfil you duties without a single whiff of disgrace.

The Command & Administrative Protocols Reconnaissance & Intelligence Department stands by in case of emergency. Remember the code word. Remember those you are serving and protecting; and those with whom you aim to deal and destroy. Remember to avoid giving subtle signals which may blow your cover. Remember the values of the goat.

May the moufflon go with you.

Goat couture

We tend, not doubt, to associate goats with the idyllic countryside and verdant pasturage. But more and more of us are choosing goats as pets – or, as we prefer here at the OVM, Platonic Life Partners. And as many of us are city dwellers, the urban goat is increasingly common, enhancing the pleasure of many.

Sharing your life with an urban goat, however, brings with it a whole new set of challenges. A goat is not just for Christmas. You cannot simply shut up your goat in your penthouse all day, not least in case, driven by its natural lively sense of curiosity, it happens upon some of your more tactless condiments while rummaging through your cupboards. Goats are social animals. They need to see and be seen. And for the urban goat, image is important. They need to look good. What’s better than Spandex for a sophisticated metropolitan goat? Remember, too, that a goat just can’t have too many shoes. So if you have an urban goat, for heaven’s sake accessorize. Because they’re worth it.

Standing on the shoulders of goats

We go back a long way, we and the sheep/goat. It has been some ten thousand years since we – together – took our first trembling and tentative steps along the exhilarating, adventurous roller-coaster road of domestication. And before that, we hunted down and ate the wild goat like, well, an animal. Only the dog has been with us longer as a companion. Yet what do we understand about our common history? About the hopes, dreams, fears and aspirations of the ovicaprid? So little.

In these early posts we are setting out our aims. We are trying to define our parameters, visioneer our ambitions, limn our remit. We will, of course, bring you news (we now know, for instance, of the sad fate of Rose, the Sudanese matrimonial goat). But part of this project is an unsheepish determination to plumb vigorously the long story of our intertwining with the goat and sheep, and to demonstrate just how much it is we owe the ovicaprid. The goat, as we will show, was with us at the birth of civilisation and state-formation; had a hand in the invention of writing and bureaucracy; and even accompanied us into the afterlife.

We are all standing on the shoulders of goats.

The logic of goats and the goats of logic

I concur fully with the concerns of my esteemed colleague, Moufflon Tony, as he draws attention in a previous post to the deficiencies of logic on its own to fully appreciate the goat and our relationship to ruminants. While awaiting his finely textured analysis, I venture only to say that perhaps we should be on the trail of a phenomenology of the goat.

But it seems that the goat itself may be useful as an analytical tool. The versatile ovicaprid may be used as an elegant machine (if such heartlessness can for a moment be forgiven) for information processing; merely by nodding, the goat enacts a gripping drama of data flow. Viewers of a sensitive disposition should note that the footage linked to contains graphic images of cardboard innards.

Thus does the goat again serve humanity.

The innocence of goats

Such is their childlike wonder at the world that goats tend to fall over when they are surprised. This flaccidness in the face of the unexpected is hard-wired into their central nervous system, it appears. And in these jaded and cynical times, is there not a lesson there for all of us?

But I wonder. Many of the goats of my acquaintance are distinctly unflappable. Just what is it that may so surprise a goat?

Just one of the kids...

Φοβού τα πυροκέρατά μου

A few words about our motto. It is read "fovou ta pyrokerata mou" and translates as "fear my horns of fire". It refers to an inscription on the Early Bronze Age moufflon figurine pictured above found in Western Cyprus by the International Expedition in 1953. As soon as they had exposed and lifted it, the archaeologists were left speechless to discover that by pressing on the moufflon's horns, the moufflon produced fire through a complex mechanism of flint, wick and fuel (which had amazingly not evaporated despite it being in the moufflon for thousands of years). The inscription was read by expert epigraphists on site and the language seemed like a precursor of classical Greek while it also anticipated its modern transformation. There is universal agreement among experts in Cypriot archaeology that the moufflon, whose pyrokerata the addressees of the inscription are meant to fear, had made the mechanism himself and used it as a symbol of status and power. Many exciting studies on state formation and social stratification have been based on this find. Apologies for the quality of the photograph. It was taken in 1953 after all.

Is everything goat or is every goat not a thing?

It has come to my attention that a group of philosophers are working on a project aiming to prove that Everything is Goat. I have great sympathy for the colleagues' intentions but I fear that the project is rather ill-conceived not least because they tend to oscillate from the analytic to the synthetic in a rather unwarranted manner thus undermining the consistency and coherence of their argument. My position is, briefly, this: I believe that logic and metaphysics can only fail us in our (common) aim. The starting point should be an ethics of recognition and I envisage this blog, and indeed the OVM, as an attempt to establish this moral knowledge of the other (goat) by drawing on a diverse range of intuition, insights, and experiences. I hope to be able to say more on this soon.

Ancient Prejudice

May I quote Catullus?

Carmen 69
Wonder not, Rufus, why none of the opposite sex wishes to place her dainty thighs beneath you, not even if you undermine her virtue with gifts of choice silk or the enticement of a pellucid gem. You are being hurt by an ugly rumour which asserts that beneath your armpits dwells a ferocious goat. This they fear, and no wonder; for it's a right rank beast that no pretty girl will go to bed with. So either get rid of this painful affront to the nostrils or cease to wonder why the ladies flee.

Let us be clear. It is not our intention, here at the OVM, to engage in smut. Nor do we advocate relationships with goats which may be unseemly. But, friends, it is not against this which we must struggle? The Latin poet (84-54 BC) did not begin it; it did not end with him. This anti-goat prejudice, here encapsulated in the lines of a poet – himself called goatish in his pursuit of lithe young Roman maidens – stinks to high heaven. It is the odour of anti-ovicapridism; the stench of ruminant disdain.

Friends, has this not gone on long enough? Is it not time to love the goat? To embrace, however metaphorically, the sheep? And to revel in the perfumes of our noble mammalian cousin?

Blog launch

Allow us first to introduce ourselves. We are the Order of the Vigilant Moufflon. The purpose of this blog is simple. To observe and record the activity of goats the world over. We hear you ask why. That too is simple. It has long been our philosophical contention (insisted upon mainly by our esteemed member Moufflon Tony but still to be tested empirically, hence the blog) that, despite the surprisingly long-lived theory of the great Charles Darwin, goats are humans' closest relatives in the wonderful extended family that is the spectrum of species. They can be romantic; they have a dark side; they are accomplished scientists (as our other esteemed member, Ruminant, has always maintained); they are just as sensitive as us to matters such as death and its effect on socialisation processes. So this is a call to all enlightened goat lovers out there: Keep the scientific evidence rolling in. To everyone else: Watch this space and be prepared to be amazed at those wonderful creatures.