Sue Lani Madsen: Celebrating America’s rebellious origins with a bang – and a bunch of nervous goats

The barrages started before dusk and continued well past midnight for three days. The sounds were not all safe and sane. The governed were clearly not giving their consent to municipal bans on fireworks.

Anyone responsible for the mental health of just one dog during the Independence Day holiday has cursed John Adams for suggesting a celebration with “guns, bells, bonfires and illuminations.” We were responsible for two dogs last weekend in Pierce County. Plus 220 goats.

What started on July 2 and 3 with an intermittent pattern of booms and crackling turned into a furious fusillade on July 4. It was a soundtrack worthy of “Saving Private Ryan.” Heaven help the men and women experiencing flashbacks from their service in a war zone.

Our goat herd was at work attacking overgrown blackberries in an urban residential area on July 2. Like Spokane, Tacoma is a no fireworks zone. The goal was to reclaim land for a community garden under development by the Pierce County Conservation District.

The project site was next to a park, between a row of small backyards and a soccer field, and across from an elementary school playground. The open areas made enticing locations to safely set off fireworks, in spite of large NO FIREWORKS signs listing penalties. The dense housing on the fourth side of the project was tribal land, without a fireworks ban.

With public displays canceled, local fireworks stands on and off West Side reservations were reporting sales for home displays had tripled or more. I’m a believer. All directions sounded the same to us.

My teenage grandson Gabe and I had joined my husband Craig in the field for the long weekend. It wasn’t vacation. Fireworks can be hard on goats as well as dogs.

Craig has been selective about Independence Day project locations after a nitwit deliberately set off fireworks in the vicinity of the herd several years ago. This year a cancellation due to Washington’s economic shutdown meant booking a new location, and he wasn’t sure what to expect. Gabe and I were the support team.

Our Pierce County contact suggested we should expect fireworks in the neighborhood on the Fourth of July, ban or no ban. The plan was to stay in Tacoma until July 4 and then move to a private parcel in semirural Pierce County, where it would be quieter for the big night.

Never underestimate the American drive to blow stuff up to celebrate independence. John Adams would have been proud.

Beautiful weather, cabin fever and a long weekend meant the fireworks started Thursday night. It was hardest on the dogs. Nessie the border collie leaned into Gabe for protection and comfort as the sky exploded. Our livestock guardian dog Gigi ran to the edge of the pen and Craig went inside the fence to keep her and the herd calm.

Calling the number on the NO FIREWORKS sign reached a sympathetic dispatcher who could only send a response if something was on fire or somebody was hurt. Unenforced rules encourage bad human habits as surely as leaving the electric fence off teaches goats they might be able to get out and coyotes they might be able to get in.

Friday night we pulled Gigi out to the stock trailer where she could shelter in place in her kennel. Nessie went into the cab of the semi to hide. Some of the booms were loud enough and close enough to make the three humans jump, and we were thankful for the secure cyclone fence around the goats.

And then came Saturday night.

It wasn’t quieter in the country.

The sound was like a thunderstorm, except summer storms rarely park over one neighborhood for six hours.

Gabe had been graciously invited to join the younger children in the back yard, where he helped light safe and sane fireworks. From the sound reverberating around us so did every property owner in the vicinity, and they weren’t all sane.

The dogs remained in their safe spaces while we stood with the herd in the blackberry bushes. The goats had just enjoyed their first course of blackberry, alder and cottonwood and were willing to settle down to cud chewing, although they remained standing. Dense foliage overhead kept the illegal aerials from being visible. It also helped to have a calm shepherd instead of a nervous dog in the pen as the booms and whistles went off.

And once again, we’ve all survived another year, celebrating America’s rebellious origins with a bang and not a whimper.