Why I Started Talking to Goats
By Matt Dolkas,
Senior Manager, Marketing
January 23, 2025
I recently started talking to goats.
We keep a small herd of goats on our family’s property in western Novato. They’re our glorified lawn mowers. They methodically eat down the brush that fights to climb into the tree canopies, transforming what would be dangerous wildfire fuel into fertile soil. They are the best way of keeping the land in balance and the risk of wildfire in check.
Every morning and every night, I move our herd of nine from their small barn to an acre-size paddock made of electric fencing. There, they graze throughout the day, eating down the brushy plants, stimulating our soil, and building the land’s health. And then we do it all in reverse, each night walking together back to their barn to keep them safe from predators.
Like any good relationship, communication is key. I’m learning that the herd picks up on tonal shifts in my voice, looking to me for direction. With the right inflection and timing, I can guide them from the wrong gate or encourage them to come through the barn door. But while they seek my leadership, they’re talking to me too.
A few days ago, our alpha female and the leader of the herd, Izzy, began braying at me whenever I approached the paddock. At first, I didn’t think much of it and, like most of our animal interactions, I chalked it up to a goat just being a goat — they just make noise.
But Izzy’s persistent calls finally convinced me to walk the entire perimeter of the paddock they’re currently grazing. It’s a steep section of our property that has been heavily overgrown with brush and invasive plants and it’s too dense to see through. Deep in the thickest part of the paddock, I found what Izzy had been trying to tell me: a large tree had fallen on the electric fence, grounding the electricity and leaving the herd vulnerable to passing predators.
With the fallen tree lying on the electric fence, the current was grounded, leaving the herd more susceptible to predators.
Standing near the downed fence, I felt foolish for taking so long to listen and surprised a goat could make me feel such shame. The tree lying on the fence was too big to move on my own, so I scrambled back down to find the herd grazing near the paddock’s gate. When they saw me, Izzy raised her head, giving me a satisfied look like, “I told you.”
I’m new to keeping livestock, but I’m learning they have a lot to say. They tell us when they’re ready for new pasture, which plants are worth eating in each season, and how the weather’s about to turn. Through their eyes, I’m learning to see the land the way they see it and I’m finding a deeper connection with this place, this simple patch of earth.
In our modern world, we’ve grown painfully distant from the animals we depend on for food, fiber, and the health of our land. We’ve sanitized and packaged away one of our most profound connections to the natural world — our relationship with domesticated animals. These slow-earned connections to the land and its creatures feels like something precious, something worth protecting.
Support the Marin Agricultural Land Trust (MALT) to protect working landscapes where meaningful connections between people, animals, and land still thrive. Your donation helps preserve these vital relationships that sustain both our environment and our understanding of where food comes from.