Baby Goats aka Cabrito

I once drove a station wagon full of baby goats from Fort Sumner, New Mexico, to our home in Jemez Springs. Just me and the goats. They stared out the windows at passing cars, sometimes bleating softly at the startled faces of motorists.

After their safe arrival, the dogs broke into their cage and killed one. So we moved them into the house for a few days. They ate my philodendron plant and jumped up and down on our king sized bed.

The following weekend we hung them upside down by their little hooves, one by one, from a branch of a cottonwood tree, and slit their throats. Mayor Luciano Garcia caught their blood in a pan to take home for pudding. I had told son Jimmy he couldn't watch the process, but he did anyway, and to my surprise he found it terribly exciting.

We butchered and skinned them with loving care. The resulting roasted "cabrito" was very tasty indeed.

Pobrecitos!