A Photo Geeks ups and downs through words and images.
Recently, while out and about, we stopped at a farm stand to pick up some fresh groceries to take home and enjoy. Like with most farm stands, there were some animals and a small area for feeding. I was lucky to capture a moment where a couple of goats were checking me out rather than ignoring me while going about their business. For as long as I can recall, I’ve always savored the moments I had out of the city. Having images to take home and enjoy are priceless. This was definitely one of them.
I love goats. Goat milk, goat farms, goat petting, goat yoga, goat sanctuaries, goat rescues. I just can’t help but feel happy when I’m in the presence of goats. When I lived in Jersey City, there was a landmark cemetery that employed goats to maintain the landscape there. I used to visit to feed the goats on a fairly regular basis. It was a stress reliever that had a very calming effect. So, when my wife insisted on going out for gelato instead of ice cream, I have to admit to being a bit irritated. That is, until I saw a sign that not only made me smile, but helped open my mind to something different. Goats or not, that was some damn good gelato. And while I don’t see myself giving up on my ice cream scoop or embarking on more ice cream driven road trips. I’ll definitely keep an open mind when asked about returning to Seattle’s Fainting Goat.
Last week my wife and decided to forgo our excursion into the city to stay somewhat local and explore Jersey City. As we came upon the historic Harsimus Cemetery I realized that, while we had passed and spoken about it countless times. I had never taken her inside to visit the goats who call the cemetery their summer home. Knowing how much she would enjoy the experience. I convinced her to stop in for a visit without going much further in detail as to what was ahead.
Quicker than it took to ascend the hill. Kayuri’s curiosity turned to wonderment as she began building a quick kinship with the beautiful goats of Harsimus. Within minutes she was racing back down the hill to exchange her bills for quarters so that she could score some snacks to feed her new friends with. Gleefully squealing and squirming as J.W., Arturo and Alexander (Correct me if I’m wrong on that one.) eagerly feasted on every morsel she hand fed them. It was a rewarding experience she still speaks about a week later.
Having something as unique and special in our very own backyard is worthy of both celebration and support. The amount of work put in to maintaining this historic spot is paramount in supporting our community, as well as it’s history. For more information, a calendar of events and how to volunteer. Visit Jersey City Cemetary
Since our unexpected detour towards some farmland in Princeton a few weeks back. I’ve been conspiring to return or map out plans to visit some of New Jersey’s farms and animal sanctuaries. While famers markets are prominent in most nearby towns as well as Manhattan’s popular Union Square market. The opportunity to spend time on an actual farm and mingle with the goats, cows and chickens who provide us with our most important needs is otherworldly for someone like me who grew up and spent his entire life within shouting distance from the local bodega.
After running into an old friend while strolling down Journal Square’s Newark Ave. I was advised to journey further to the landmark cemetery known as Harsimus. Since my days as an adventurous 8 year old. I was always intrigued by cemeteries. If my fading memory can recall. My first excursions from my home base of Jackson Heights into the fabled town of Astoria were through a cemetery know as St. Michaels. 
Though fear and the anticipation of being wrangled by grave robbers or a satanic cult have since diminished. The feeling that the hills have eyes has not totally diminished. So when I heard about the goats of Harsimus Cemetery. I was happy knowing my suspicions were indeed true.
After a long walk in 84 degree temperatures, I finally came upon Harsimus. And though I did my share of searching. It wasn’t until I asked one of the groundskeepers that I was able to find what I was looking for. As I stood at the top of the hill, all I could see was more cemetery. “A hoax” I thought. One of Big Foot proportions. Finally, a head poked out from one of the monuments. Staring at me with an innocent curiosity. I gathered myself and readied my best possible goat calling skills. Before you knew it, and despite the fact I sounded more like a sheep in goats clothing. I was suddenly welcomed by a community of adorable goats. After a short goat talk I was able to gain their trust and even got them to pose for pictures. I’ve included a few favorites in hopes of getting more people to visit and experience some of the unique treasures that are right at our doorstep.
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