Robert Lalah, Assistant Editor-Features

Biggs, the premier goat farmer of Longwood, St. Elizabeth and his trusty goat Charlie.

The chubby man in the red T-shirt grabbed the 200-pound goat by the horns and gave it a good shake. The now obviously ticked-off goat then hoisted itself on its hind legs and charged the frightened looking man, sending him running for cover. On its hind legs, the goat must have been close to six feet tall! I gulped from my safe hiding spot about a hundred yards away.

"Anyhow him ever buck yuh, yuh salt!" the man said as he peered out from behind a large rusty drum. The goat seemed to lose interest and wandered off. The man in the red shirt then left his hiding place and seemed a little braver now.

"Go weh you old rascal yuh!" he said, flashing his hand in the goat's direction.

The man in the red shirt is known as Biggs. He's become one of the most well-known goat farmers in Longwood, St. Elizabeth, especially since news broke about his 200-pound plus goat called Charlie. Now Charlie is only two years old and according to Biggs, won't stop growing for another two years.

"By di time him stop grow him haffi go live inna house!" Biggs said, his eyes wide.

Photographer Ian Allen and I had ventured to Longwood to meet with the goat farmer and were sure we were on the right track about ten minutes before we got to his house. The smell of goat is one I will not soon forget.

Biggs' property is at the top of a steep, rocky hill and the first thing you see when you get there is a crudely built, wooden goat pen. Behind that, was something that looked like a drawing from a history textbook. It was a small house with a thatch roof that looked like an Arawak hut. Biggs came out to greet us. "Hello sar," he said with a chuckle. We told him that we had heard stories of his giant goat and he laughed. "Oh yes, Charlie. Him a man a yard you know. Him grumpy today so him nuh really a tek nuh visitor. But I will check and see," Biggs said as he turned around and headed to the goat pen.

Moody

Charlie the 200-pound goat is one moody brute. - Ian Allen/Staff Photographer

There were about ten goats in there of varying sizes and scents. Some were feasting on stacks of grass that were laid out for them. Biggs unlatched a small gate and went in. "I tell you if him ever buck you today dog nyam you supper. Him a serve now so him moody!" he said as he went in.

Soon, Biggs reappeared, pulling the giant goat behind him. The goat pushed and pulled and seemed to be in a bad mood indeed. Biggs seemed a bit frightened himself and this didn't help calm my own fears one bit. It's after all not every day that you see a goat that big. And with a temper no less!

After playing around with the goat for a while, Biggs let it go and then settled down on a bench in the shade of the goat pen. He wiped a trickle of sweat from his brow and then sighed.We asked him how he found the goat-rearing business in Longwood.

"Well, it alright. It have its moments and everything. Di only problem is di likkle petty tief dem. If I ever hold one a dem you see! Dem goose cook!" Biggs shouted.

"But otherwise everything quiet around this side. The place peaceful. We don't have the one bag a noise and crime like town. We alright," he said.

Daily walks

I asked him how many goats he had in all. "Well mi nuh really certain right now," he said pointing to the goats and counting out loud. "Some a dem nuh come in yet. Dem go out a morning and when mi ready fi dem mi just say come, come! You frighten fi see how dem run come!" Biggs laughed.

I asked him about the house with the thatch roof. "Yes man. My family control that house for years now. My great great grandmother used to live in that house. It must be more than 200 years old now. All the hurricane and storm that pass over Jamaica, I never see that house leak yet. It last longer than all the fancy house top dem around di place these days," he said, smiling.

Just then, an elderly man wearing a cap and a rather shine pair of shoes walked up. He had a pleasant smile and greeted us as he took a seat near to Biggs. He gave his name as Maas Stafford. I asked him about the house.

The thatch roof

"Oh yes man. That house has been there from as long as I can remember. My grandmother moved into that house when she was 16 years old. She died in 1963 and she was 96 years old. That will tell you how old that house is," he said. "Those roof tops don't look it, but dem very good. You stand up in dat and not a drop of rain wet you. There was a time when every house around here had thatch roof. Now this is the only one that is left. The last one that was built around here was in 1943 and from that, everybody change how dem build house," Maas Stafford said.

I asked the retired shoemaker how he found life in Longwood these days. "Well it still very quiet and peaceful. Not like town. Around here nobody trouble you at all. That is why I stay here. I love the peaceful life. In town is like man gone mad. When mi was a bwoy we never have crime or murder. Everybody live good with each other. Bwoy I just want to see more love, and things return to how dem used to be," he said with a sigh.

Send feedback to: robert.lalah@gleanerjm.com.