@story  TONYA MCCOY
@image  MARCUS COKER AND LIBERTY HILL FARMS

Five-year-old Isaac Garnaat kneels quietly behind an oak tree with his trusty accomplice Woody, a large golden retriever. The pair wait menacingly outside a pen beside a faded red barn anticipating their attack. Finally Isaac leaps out and screams, “Aaaah!” and Woody joins in with a hearty  “woof, woof.” Half a dozen goats fall over onto their sides, stunned, their legs straight and frozen.

“When Isaac was little bitty, he learned patience,” says Isaac’s mom, Shannon Garnaat. “He would hide behind that tree and he would wait for them all to get calmly sitting and eating, then he would jump out.

“And our golden retriever, Woody, does it, too. He waits by the fence quietly. He never hurts them or nothing, but they’ll all get to eating and he’ll jump out and he’ll ‘barr-arr-arr’ and spook them and they all fall over.  And I swear to God he smiles as he’s walking away because he thinks it’s the funniest thing ever.”

It’s just another day on the farm.

Liberty Hill Farms in Natural Dam, Arkansas, is where the Garnaat family raises a unique breed of goats:  fainting goats. They are known by different names like:  wooden-leg goats, scare goats, and Tennessee fainting goats, named for the state from which they originated. In the late 1800s a migrant farmhand that was believed to be from Nova Scotia arrived in Tennessee with four fainting goats. That man, John Tinsley, is responsible for introducing fainting goats to Marshall County, which holds an annual festival for fainting goat breeders nationwide.

The fainting goats are also known as myotonic goats for the hereditary medical condition they have, myontonia congenital, which causes the goats’ muscles to tense up for a couple of seconds when startled.  Farmers used to put the vulnerable goats in with prize show stock, making them the ultimate ‘scape goat.’ The goats made easy prey for predators, like wolves or coyotes, which might otherwise have killed sheep or other more valuable livestock. Nowadays these goats have a happier fate being show stock themselves and even pets.

Now before you feel a twinge of guilt for snickering at the idea of goats that drop when spooked, Shannon says the fainting doesn’t hurt the goats. It’s not a true faint in the demure or even the medical sense. The goats do not lose consciousness, and often can be seen still chewing their cud while in that ‘myotonic’ state.  And since her tallest bucks only grow to about two and a half feet, the drop to the ground isn’t a steep one.

To keep them safe, Shannon keeps the goats in a large fenced area, guarded by two golden retrievers, Woody and Skinner, and two territorial donkeys, Mable and Sherman.

While the goats are not hurt by the fainting, Shannon says she doesn’t startle them or allow others to startle them incessantly. And besides, that’s not the only thing that makes these strange goats special. This breed is different than the ones Shannon remembers raising on her farm when she was young.

“I grew up in Michigan and it was cold, and I had to milk the darn things when I was a child, and I swore

I’d never ever have goats again. But I love these goats, they’re great.  And they eat the poison ivy here. We don’t have a lick of poison ivy on the whole place. They love it.

Isaac and Shannon’s husband Dave happen to be allergic to poison ivy, so the goat’s appetite and resistance to the plant is just another perk. But the main reason Shannon began farming fainting goats is their docile demeanor.

“I wanted something that Isaac could be around as a little kid and not get hurt. I remember raising goats when I was a child and some goats were mean.” But after raising a few fainting goats Shannon realized the difference.

“This is Peggy Sue, she’s one of my favorites. She wants to sit in your lap,” she says as she gathers a white doe up into her arms. When Peggy Sue has her own kids, Shannon plans to name them after fifties songs.

A mahogany red doe with a broken horn walks up to Shannon. “This is Calamity Jane. I think I cursed her when she was a baby, naming her that. She broke her horn and she had the end of her tail bitten off.  It’s just one thing after another with her.”

“And this is Snip,” Shannon explains, showing off a white snip of hair on the doe’s nose. “She’s ancient. This is my old goat.”  Snip is twelve and the longest most goats live is around fifteen years.

But there are plenty of new faces on the farm, too. Half a dozen newborns walk around the barn’s closest pen.  Shannon picks up a black one, only about a foot tall, “I think I’m going to name this one Lucky Seven,” she says as she points to the shape of a perfect white seven that makes its way across the black fur on its side. Another baby goat with the same mother wanders up showing off its anchor shaped patch of white fur. “And I’m going to name that one ‘Anchors Away.’”

Nearby, a gray baby goat emerges from a small pile of hay, the straw like a crown of fur on its head.  It lets out a tiny “meh.” These critters certainly have the ‘awww’ factor, and it’s easy to see why some people purchase them as pets.

“I know some people who have trained them to be house-broken. They even have a doggie door for them.”

However, in a near pasture stand the fainting goats that you don’t want as pets. Various bucks with long straight or slightly curled horns are grazing, some even playfully butting each other. These guys aren’t sought after as pets because bucks carry a pungent odor. But Firecracker, Irish Eyes, Harry T. Stinkerman and the gang of studs play an important role in the farm when it’s breeding time.

Shannon’s family raises ‘silkies’ or long hairs and short hairs. Does and bucks. Mediums and minis. Reds, blacks, grays, and whites.  Right now they have about sixty, but once all the does have their kids, they expect their herd to grow to a hundred.

Shannon looks down at the half-dozen baby goats nearby and smiles. “These little guys make me laugh every day.”

If you’re interested in purchasing your own Liberty Hill Farms fainting goat contact Shannon and Dave Garnaat by calling 479.929.5789 or email the couple at libertyhillfarm@hughes.net. Check out the adorable goats at www.libertyhillfarms.net. Prices range from $100-$800 depending on type of goat.