Attack of the Killer Goats

I took my mom for a 4 hour hike in the hills surrounding Guanajuato. You take the bus about 15 minutes to a town called Santa Rosa, and then there is a dirt road you can walk back on. It passes through a small town, and next to a large reservoir.



We had just passed the reservoir, when I had to pee. I had already peed once on the walk, and it was no big deal to pop another squat. My mom was the lookout to make sure nobody (automotive or humanoid) was coming on the road.

All of a sudden, my mom yelled "Stop peeing, get up right now! There are goats!" I had a lot of pee, and it was at the point where you can't really stop the flow, I was peeing THAT hard. Plus, I figured that there were a couple of goats, and what's the big deal about a couple of goats? They're not very big, they're not very scary, they're just freaking goats.

Except, there weren't just a couple of goats. Nope nope.

There were a couple of hundred goats.


My mom grew up in New York City, and likes to watch animals from afar. After I pulled up my pants are we were a suitable distance away, she asked me to go back, but be careful, because she really was sorry that she didn't have a camera to take a picture of the goats. At this point, they were crossing the creek and it was obvious that the dogs with them were not, as she originally thought, attack dogs, but rather knew their job helping the shepherd.


So, we continued walking, and saw a mule. My mom again thought something bad would happen as I went back and approached it.

Clearly, nothing did.