Symbols Life, and Death, and Giants Ron Rindo

The Goat: Symbol of Gentleness, Amish Roots, and Sacrifice

A Living Link to the Fisher Family

In Ron Rindo’s Life, and Death, and Giants, the goat appears not as an abstract idea but as a flesh-and-blood creature woven into the fabric of the Fisher household. It bleats in the barn, nuzzles a child’s hand, and finally becomes an unwilling prop in a wrestling arena. From Gabriel’s earliest memories to his final public spectacle, the goat serves as a touchstone for the forces that define his life—Amish identity, instinctive gentleness, the inevitability of death, and the distortion of that gentleness by a world hungry for entertainment.

The Goat as a Marker of Gabriel’s Character

Gabriel Fisher’s affinity for goats is established early, even before his prodigious growth becomes apparent. In chapter 4, Thomas Kennedy notices that the toddler Gabriel uses a small doeling as a walking aid, leaning into her “like a sailor on shore leave being escorted back to his ship.” This image—a massive child finding balance through a young goat—immediately links the animal to support, patience, and the boy’s startling harmony with the natural world. The goats on Jasper’s farm, thirty-nine white Saanens and mottled mixes, become Gabriel’s first companions; he grows up drinking their milk, sleeping beside them, and absorbing from them a quiet, pre-verbal language of trust.

This ease with animals extends beyond goats, but the goat remains the central emblem of Gabriel’s gift. Unlike the chickens that roost on his knees or the pigeons that eat from his palm, the goats he calms are creatures of practical farming life—milked, bred, and eventually slaughtered. The text never romanticizes this reality; it simply shows a boy who soothes the animals that will, in time, feed his family. That synthesis of tenderness and utility is essential to the symbol’s meaning.

Magdalene and the Intersection of Grief and Compassion

The goat Magdalene, introduced in chapter 8, draws the symbol deeper into Hannah Fisher’s emotional world. Hannah’s goat suffers from an untreatable infection, and Dr. Kennedy brings Gabriel along for the diagnosis. The scene is brief but layered: Gabriel hugs the ailing animal, and then hugs Hannah, creating a silent transfer of comfort. Hannah later euthanizes and buries Magdalene, and the narrator notes that she “thought only of Gabriel” during the burial. Here the goat becomes an intermediary between the grandmother’s grief—for Rachel, for the shunning that separates her from Jasper—and the grandson she is only beginning to know. The animal’s death is not merely a farm loss; it is a quiet sacrament of forgiveness, a point where love for a creature bridges an otherwise unbridgeable human divide.

Gentling Goats to Slaughter: Sacrifice Reframed

When Gabriel reaches adolescence, his size and strength are tempered by a paradoxical gentleness. In chapter 12, Hannah observes that he “gentles elderly goats to slaughter.” The phrasing is deliberate: Gabriel does not merely herd or restrain them; he gentles them, calming their fear as they approach the end. This act is not described as heroic or sentimental. It is simply what a young Amish man does when his community’s way of life requires death. In this context, the goat symbolizes a profound understanding of mortality—a recognition that living things die, and that dignity in those final moments is a form of grace.

The goat’s connection to sacrifice also echoes through Hannah’s own faith. She does not moralize; she simply notes the action with the same quiet admiration she feels when Gabriel performs chores others avoid. For readers, the image of a giant cradling an old goat on its last walk creates a visual counterpoint to the wrestling spectacle that will later dominate Gabriel’s life. In the barn, sacrifice is real, quiet, and intimate. In the ring, it will become a parody.

The Live Goat in the Wrestling Arena: Innocence Converted into Spectacle

The most jarring appearance of the goat occurs in chapter 27. Gabriel, now billed as “Anakim, the Amish Giant,” enters the United Center carrying “a mature angora ram; its swept-back horns had been painted metallic gold, and they shone like trumpets in the spotlight.” The ram’s ivory mohair hangs over Gabriel’s shoulders “like a wrinkled cape,” and its nostrils flare in fear. As Gabriel walks, fans reach up to touch his hand, while the goat bleats into the pulsing noise of the arena.

This moment is a deliberate inversion of everything the goat has meant before. The animal is no longer a companion or a creature eased toward a peaceful end; it is a costume piece, a living accessory meant to amplify Gabriel’s Amish persona for a paying audience. When Gabriel lowers the goat to the floor and kisses its head, the gesture is genuine—an echo of his childhood gentleness—but the context has stolen its purity. The arena treats the kiss as theater, and the crowd roars.

That corruption accelerates when, later in the match, a masked man appears carrying “what looked to be the bloody fleece of the angora goat.” He throws it over Gabriel’s head, allowing the Sheik of Siam to attack. The fleece, once a living fleece on a frightened animal, has become a prop of violence. The goat that symbolized Gabriel’s tender connection to his Amish roots is literally turned into a weapon against him. The scene crystallizes the novel’s theme of anonymity versus spectacle: the quiet, sacred acts of the farm are dragged into a world where everything, even a beloved animal, is reducible to a tool for entertainment.

The Goat and the Body as Commodity

The wrestling scene also ties the goat to the broader motif of the body as miracle and commodity. Gabriel’s body, like the goat’s, is presented for visual consumption. He rips off his shirt to reveal “vibrant tattoos”—a stark departure from the plain clothes of his Amish upbringing—and the crowd chants his name. The goat is objectified in the same instant: its horns are painted gold, its fleece is harvested for a plot twist, and its bleat of fear is swallowed by audience noise. Both Gabriel and the goat become vehicles through which the novel criticizes the entertainment machine that reduces living, breathing beings to marketable images.

The Symbol’s Resonance in Hannah’s World

For Hannah Fisher, the goat is inseparable from home and loss. Her goats populate the farm where Gabriel grows up, and their cycles of birth and death mirror the human losses she endures—Rachel’s death, Jasper’s estrangement, and eventually Gabriel’s own. When she watches Gabriel carry the goat into the wrestling ring, tears stream down her face. The text does not name every feeling behind those tears, but earlier chapters make clear that Hannah associates Gabriel’s animal gentleness with the best parts of him, and with the Amish life she fought to preserve. Seeing the goat turned into a prop is a betrayal of that world, and her reaction—insisting on leaving the arena early—is a refusal to participate in the spectacle. In that choice, Hannah reclaims the goat as a symbol of the private, the sacred, and the authentic.

The Goat in the Novel’s Broader Arc

The goat’s appearances trace a downward arc from innocence to corruption, but not entirely. At Gabriel’s Amish funeral in chapter 41, the goat is absent as a physical presence, yet its symbolic residue lingers. The mourners gather on a hidden field, away from cameras, away from the fame that the wrestling arena represented. The burial site is marked only by “a fossil-bearing limestone,” a natural artifact as unadorned as the goats Gabriel once gentled. The quietness of this ending reasserts the values the goat initially embodied: humility, connection to the land, and acceptance of death without spectacle.

Study Questions

  1. How does Gabriel’s childhood relationship with goats illuminate his unique gift with animals?
    As a toddler, Gabriel leans on a doeling to learn to walk, and he later sits calmly among chickens, sheep, and pigeons. His ability to soothe goats—creatures that are both domesticated and skittish—demonstrates a patience and non-threatening presence that sets him apart from other people. This gift foreshadows his later role gentling elderly goats to slaughter, an act that requires the same calm steadiness in the face of mortality.

  2. What does the goat Magdalene’s death represent for Hannah Fisher?
    Magdalene’s infection and euthanasia occur when Gabriel is a child and Hannah is still burdened by Rachel’s death and the shunning of Jasper. Gabriel’s comfort to both the goat and Hannah creates a silent bond between grandmother and grandson. The burial, during which Hannah thinks only of Gabriel, transforms the goat into a vessel of grief and forgiveness—an acknowledgment that love can persist even when formal community ties have been severed.

  3. How does the wrestling entrance with the live goat alter the symbol’s meaning?
    The entrance strips the goat of its dignity, dressing it with gold-painted horns and using it as a stage prop for Anakim’s Amish persona. The kiss on the goat’s head, while likely sincere, is absorbed into the crowd’s roar. The subsequent appearance of a bloody fleece as a weapon turns the goat into an instrument of violence, perverting the earlier associations of gentleness and sacrificial peace. The scene illustrates what happens when symbols of a private, communal life are dragged into spectacle.

  4. Why does the novel contrast Gabriel’s quiet handling of goats destined for slaughter with the theatrical use of the animal in the wrestling ring?
    The contrast exposes Gabriel’s internal conflict between his Amish values and the commodification of his body. On the farm, death is real and meaningful, met with a calm reverence that grants the goat a dignified end. In the arena, the goat is objectified and its fleece becomes weaponry; nothing dies, but everything is fake. This juxtaposition questions whether the world of fame can honor the gentle strength Gabriel originally possessed, or whether it inevitably turns such gifts into hollow entertainment. The goat’s journey from the barn to the ring is, in microcosm, Gabriel’s own trajectory—and a warning about what is lost when spectacle overwhelms substance.