German complains that 40 goats are swimming in his pool

German complains about goats invading his Mallorca estate

A German owner has reported the daily intrusion of a herd of goats onto his Es Capdellà estate in Mallorca. According to the complaint, there are more than 40 individuals, and they even bathe in the pool. The case gained traction with an image of the animals in the water. From there, the discussion turned into a much more awkward question: who pays when wildlife doesn't understand boundaries.

Why not fence it if the problem is the goats?

This is the first question to arise, and also the one with the fewest clear answers. One part of the analysis holds that the plot simply lacks perimeter fencing and that the owner should bear the cost: mesh, gate, and so on. Opposing this is a practical argument suggested in other messages: in rustic land, erecting an enclosure isn't just going to the hardware store; it requires a project, a license, and depending on the case, authorization from the regional government. Some also point out that the foreign owner is reproducing his country's custom, where plots often go without a fence, and that this detail explains half the complaint. The analysis stalls right there, not on the goat.

Wild goats or unguarded livestock?

A wild herd in Mallorca sounds like a joke, yet some maintain the phenomenon has a name in Spain. In the Canary Islands, as one participant recounts, shepherds who retire release their livestock, and it becomes wild; this is called 'ganado guanil.' In Fuerteventura, there is even the Cofete tradition, an annual roundup where several shepherds close the enclosure and divide the captures. Those who have dealt with goats in the mountains recall that they move through any slope and graze down to the root.

Guardian dogs and the doubt about whether the goat was swimming

The solution that appears most often is the same old one: a large dog. The Spanish Alano and Argentine Dogo are mentioned as estate guardians against small companion dogs. The thread warns that if the animal harms a goat, the owner could be held responsible for damage to another's livestock. Regarding the pool, there is disagreement even on the basic fact: part of the analysis suggests that goats do not like water, and what is seen is an animal fallen inside, unable to exit through the ladder.

Bureaucracy might cost more than the problem itself

This is where the most expensive part comes in. Any intervention on the estate—fencing, clearing brush, installing irrigation—can end up in a file: construction permits for rustic land, environmental reports, and timelines measured in years, not weeks. Some recall that cleaning the plot without authorization is also sanctioned, and by the time a resolution arrives, the goat problem will have changed in form but not in substance.

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The core of the matter is hardly exotic: the buyer of the postcard—estate, pool, mountain—who fails to buy the ecosystem that comes with it. According to some thread messages, the complaint is against the Govern (regional government), not against the goats, because the goats have no one to hold accountable. And the impasse remains unchanged: nobody disputes that the problem exists, and nobody agrees on who should solve it.