Broderick is in her element on her 12-acre property in Holt, which for the past 20 years has been the home of Draggin’ Acres Goats, a farm where the 72-year-old breeds and raises Pygmy and Nigerian Dwarf goats to sell across the Southeast as pets and farm animals.

Annie Blanks @DestinLogAnnie

HOLT — Brooke Broderick sits in a yellow Adirondack chair in her front yard on a dreary January day while at least three baby goats hop in endless circles around her.

A few other grown goats, some pregnant and some the mothers of the babies doing circles, hover nearby.

“They’re like this all the time,” Broderick says of the playful little goats. “Eat, sleep, poop, play.”

Broderick is in her element on her 12-acre property in Holt, which for the past 20 years has been the home of Draggin’ Acres Goats, a farm where the 72-year-old breeds and raises Pygmy and Nigerian Dwarf goats to sell across the Southeast as pets and farm animals.

She has a niece in Fort Walton Beach, but Broderick lives on her own and is the sole proprietor of the farm and only caretaker of the more than 70 goats on the property. Some of them live in her house with her. Others live in large enclosures on the property. Some live in barns and some, like Posey and Twinkle, two new mothers, roam free in her yard.

Broderick, who knows each goat by name, says she has grown particularly fond of her animals and considers them her children.

“It’s like telling you, your dog is just a dog, or your child is just a child,” she says as Posey tries to chew on the end of her sweater. “I have no kids or anything. This is my joy. And my heartache, sometimes.”

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A diagnosis, a mission and lots of goats

In November 2016, doctors diagnosed Broderick with advanced-stage lung cancer. After chemotherapy and radiation treatments didn’t work and the cancer had metastasized, Broderick said her doctor told her it was time to stop treatments.

“I’ve got stage 4 lung cancer and a bad heart. It’s debatable which one will take me first. I’m hoping I’ll just trip over a goat and break my neck, frankly,” she says with a laugh.

With her diagnosis looming over her head, Broderick made the difficult decision to re-home or sell all her goats. She wants the animals to have homes and be taken care of when she passes.

Broderick says she is being very picky about where the goats will go and is carefully vetting applicants. She says goats aren’t “apartment animals” and need to be sold in pairs or groups, as they’re very social animals who form strong bonds with other goats. She says their emotions mimic those of humans —“they love, they hate, they’re sad, they’re happy, they’re silly, they’re serious”— and people need to be aware of the commitment they’re making when owning a goat.

She says goats can live up to 15 years, and anybody thinking of getting a goat as a pet should know exactly what they’re signing up for.

“Goats are the most curious creatures in the world,” she says. “They’re escape artists and they’re just naughty creatures. But yet they’re so funny and they’ll just look at me like, ‘Why are you yelling at me? I’m just a goat doing what a goat does.’ ”

Broderick says she’s reached out to farmers, veterinarians and other people who have expressed interest in the goats, and hopes to get the ball rolling soon on having them removed from her farm. But she’s in no hurry to do that.

“I’ll be heartbroken when the goats leave,” she says. “I’ll be beyond that. This is what I live for. So when they’re gone, there won’t be anything left.”

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‘I am at peace’

As she walks around her farm, Broderick has to stop every so often to catch her breath. Her body is giving out on her day by day, and she can’t be the farmer she once was.

But she makes the rounds every day because she loves her goats. As she approaches one fence, she reaches her hand out and gives the goat a pat on the head. The goat shakes its head and huffs, turns around, then comes back for another pet.

“She hates me, but she comes over every day just to do this, just to aggravate me and I aggravate her,” Broderick says

Another goat, Twinkle, who Broderick would never admit is one of her favorites, follows her around the farm.

“She’s spoiled rotten,” she says. “But she’s a very intelligent and devoted little goat. She’s got a bad temper. And she’s very stubborn, which all of them are.”

Broderick knows she probably doesn’t have much time left, but she hopes to spend the time she has left at home in her happy place, surrounded by bounding baby goats and grumpy momma goats.

“I’m at peace,” she says. “It’s been a good 20 years with the goats, but I am at peace.”

Walking toward her fence where a “Pygmy Goat Drive” street sign is hung to greet visitors, one of the young goats who had been following her speeds off into the distance and hops around in circles by himself.

Broderick lets out a long chuckle.

“They’ve got their own drummers,” she says. “We don’t hear their music, but they do, and I bet it’s hip hop.”

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