Using Yaks for Weed Control: Near Disaster!

Lately, there’s been an absolute explosion of clover and assorted weeds around our greenhouse. It’s gotten so thick it’s basically a jungle—and if I'm being honest, I’m scared to walk through it for fear of lurking snakes. I do not do snakes.

We had a couple options:

1. Mow it down like responsible adults

2. Or… let the goats do it for us. Because they would enjoy it okay, not because we're lazy.

   
   

Naturally, we chose Option #2. Free labor + goat enrichment = win-win, right?

Wrong.

We secured the area and unleashed the goats on what we thought would be their dream buffet. Instead, they staged multiple escapes—through the electrified cables—and made repeated attempts to raid the vegetable garden. Ingrates.

Plan B? Bring in the big guns: the yaks.

The yaks lumbered in, sniffed around, and dove into the salad bar of weeds with great excitement. At first, it was perfect. They were happy. We were happy. The weeds were disappearing.

But then they started getting a little too close to the greenhouse.

Cue panic mode.

Just one wrong move of her head could be disastrous. What were we thinking?

All it would take was one wrong turn of a horned head to shatter a greenhouse window. I

had a full mental image of a freaked-out, possibly bleeding yak kicking through shards of glass, both outside and inside the greenhouse, raining chaos down on the plants and seedlings.

No thank you.

We jumped into action trying to herd them out of danger before disaster struck. But the yaks were weren't having it though. They were enjoying their jungle buffet and had zero interest in leaving.

Trying to shoo full-grown yaks out of a space they don't want to leave can be tricky. Offerings of treats and gentle encouragement only go so far. Then its time to pressure them from behind and hope they cooperate. We were marginally successful.

Shasta was the final holdout. Whether she was being stubborn or scared is unclear, but after a fair bit of pleading with her and chasing her 'round and 'round the greenhouse—all that was missing was the Benny Hill theme music—we finally managed to guide her (and our blood pressure) back to safety.

So much for our brilliant weed-control plan.

Looks like we’re back to the mower.