Goats are, apparently, amazing swimmers and can stick to a paddleboard like glue, something I never would have guessed. But watching two of them cavort around in a swimmin’ hole somewhere east of Kneeland several weeks ago, taking turns wading in and diving off of owner Jedidiah Martin’s paddleboard shut down all of my (previously completely unconscious) biases against Churro and Buttercup. I had to see more; Martin acquiesced. 

“They’re naturals,” Martin said, swinging Churro up and around onto his 11-foot board, floating a foot offshore in Stone Lagoon. “Just grab ‘em and throw ‘em on. There’s nothing really fabricated about it.”

They live in paradise. Martin, 37, bought Churro and Buttercup in January, as a way to give his 10-year-old daughter Aurora some responsibilities (one of the first was naming them). She bathes the goats every Saturday and also mucks their stalls for allowance money. They have a redwood board jungle gym to play on and an ocean view from their property in Kneeland, which they share with chickens and Tico, an old stallion. They aren’t allowed in the house. 

Both Churro and Buttercup are female Nigerian Dwarfs a little short of a year in age. They are incredibly soft and are good foragers, capable of finding mounds of vines and shrubs they munch with gusto. Finding their aquatic talents didn’t take a lot of effort; Martin just took them to the river one day, and they hopped on his paddleboard. Buttercup is more of a water-lover than Churro, but they both love to hang out on the board and swim around. Eventually, Martin plans on teaching them how to surf with a soft-top board and dog lifejackets.

It’s a great way to get out, said Martin, who works 3 p.m. to 5 a.m. hauling wood scraps up to Oregon and often needs to burn off steam. He goes hiking with them and Aurora in places a lot of humans don’t bother going, down steep beach trails guided by ropes stretched between stands of pine. It’s easy for the goats; not so much for the bipedals.

“My daughter’s always like, ‘Is this a dad hike?’” Martin said, a huge laugh following. 

He’s not shy about sharing Churro and Buttercup. He brought them to the Annie and Mary parade in Blue Lake over the summer, and anyone who wants can get pet them. Trucking can be a hard fit for him, a self-proclaimed “social butterfly” who couldn’t work enough hours as a chef to make ends meet. The goats help a bit — everyone’s interested. He makes it work.

“It’s a nice escape, away from all the drama that the world’s going through,” Martin said, gliding smoothly over the flat morning water away from shore. “Especially in a place like this.” 

“You got the otters, the elk — the elk seem to like to sit over there in those reeds,” he said, pointing to a golden marsh across the lagoon. “And then there’s always two or three otters over there in that cove.” 

A few more strokes from the oar; Churro and Buttercup stay relaxed. Their hooves do not move from the board.

“Always! They’re always out there.