By John Mattingly Several years ago, my wife and I walked into the barn to be greeted by a two-week old male goat bleating insistently. We then saw that his mother, an ancient nanny we knew as Osho, had died. Osho was the acknowledged superior in the herd. With a passing resemblance to Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh, she schooled pernicious older goats as well as impertinent young goats with a mere glance, and was always the first to sample a strange food, such as cull potatoes, cabbage, or corn stalks, while all the other goats awaited her judgment as to its ...
