Is there NO end to this comedy of errors? 'What is that goat going on about now?', you ask. Ah, but "there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy"!
This is a sapsucker. (You thought it was a just plain old woodpecker, didn't you?) Well, this particular fellow enjoys drilling evenly spaced small holes in live trees, periodically revisiting said holes to feed on sap and the insects thereby attracted. 'That's nice', you say, 'but what does this have to do with the price of Peanuts?'
This particular sapsucker's name is Michael Jordan. A strange coincidence you think? Not hardly. You see, we seem to have a penchant for attracting the outer-fringe. Things like mice that defy common rules of decent behavior, bats that delight in free-fall exercises, mountain beavers who cunningly lay waste to unsuspecting trekkers. And Michael Jordan , being no exception, is perhaps shy one feather of a full load.
Outside the barn there is, for some unknown reason, what is called a 'basketball' hoop mounted on a large Douglas fir tree. I don't really know what a 'basketball' is, but I think the former owners of the farm put it up to engage in midnight games of throw-the-goat-berry-through-the-hoop. I can't be sure, of course, but this I do know. Sometimes we goats get to go on walks with the goatmother, and we pass under this odd accoutrement on our way to the back pasture. I, myself, have never really given it much thought. However, one morning we suddenly heard a deafening sound coming from the east end of the barn. At first we all froze. hair standing on end, thinking that perchance some band of survivalist militia had taken up target practice on the mountain beavers with an impressive array of rapid-fire, semi-automatic weapons. By now you can probably see where I am going with this, and yes, you would be correct. That sound was none other than Michael Jordan pecking with wild abandon on the fiberglass backboard of the goatberry hoop. You will note in the above description of the sapsucker it says, and I quote, "...drilling evenly spaced holes in live TREES..." That would be live trees, most assuredly NOT fiberglass ones.
Now you are probably thinking that this nonsense happened once and then Michael came to his senses. But Michael has a very deep and abiding sense of ethics. A real passion for his sport. Every day this occurs. Not simply once a day, but several times a day. He is a true athlete - totally devoted.
Boo wants to write a letter to the NBA promoting Michael's talent. Of course I'll have to type it for her since she isn't very good at that sort of thing, but I really think Michael is going to have to learn to use something besides his beak before they will even consider it. In the meantime, we're stuck with him. Like it or not. Though I'm talented in many respects, I just don't think I can muster up any interest in helping him practice. Besides, I don't think I can jump that high. It's just not written in the stars for me to be talented at everything. Simply, "The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings." Forge on, Michael!