Bright, perhaps, but goats are not very smart. Stubborn, definitely. Night before last, Cindy got it into her head that she was not going into the barn. I coaxed, wheedled, sweet-talked, and threatened. I tried bribing with grain. I gave her options. "You don't want to go in that door? How about this one?" I carefully explained all the possible dire consequences of her rash decision. Finally, as the light and my patience faded, I told her good night and good luck and went back to the house.
Stubbornness, like crankiness, appears to be contagious. The day before, Inga had refused to come in to be milked. Yesterday her bag was so full she had a hard time trying to lie down, but when it was her turn to get on the stand, she would not. Inga would either ignore me completely or come so close her nose would be in the doorway, but not near enough to put her in a headlock so I could pull her in. At my least move, she'd back away. It's enough to drive me crazy (I know, short drive). If milking her yesterday would have been hard, today is going to be torture. If she comes in, that is.
The end to Cindy's saga is a happy one. She literally ran to meet me at the gate in the morning, telling me how sorry she was and darned near stepping on my heels to follow me down to the barn. She promised to never, ever do that again. Bet me. A goat's gonna do what a goat's gonna do. Deal with it.