Leo and Merlin saunter over to a scratching station and rub their chests against the bristles of a repurposed street-sweeping brush. Leo’s white pompadour and beard sway slightly with the effort, while Merlin’s yellow-green eyes seem to sparkle as he lifts his chin to maneuver himself into position. Observing them on a recent visit to Sowa Goat Sanctuary, it isn’t hard to imagine that these Nigerian dwarf goats are smiling; they certainly have every reason to be happy.
They are two of the 18 goats living at the Old Littleton Road sanctuary for abandoned, neglected, and abused goats. And as fortunate as they appear to be today— especially given the grim backstories of nearly all of them— Olivia DiNardo considers herself the lucky one.
Olivia DiNardo gives Nigerian dwarf goats Merlin (left) and Kurloz the foot rubs they love. (Photo by Lisa Aciukewicz
Mixed-breed goat Wyatt (left), and Santa’s Little Helper, a LaMancha goat, compete for a spot on the high ground in their outdoor enclosure. (Photo by Thomas Kilian)
“Sowa sanctuary is my attempt to pay a debt that can never be repaid,” she wrote to the Press in an email that described how being diagnosed with ulcerative colitis in 2015 eventually led her and spouse Jim DiNardo to create the refuge as a kind of mutual healing society for her and “the goats in need,” as she describes them. “Caring for these incredible beings healed my broken spirit in a way that nothing else could,” she said, adding that what cannot be repaid is what “humanity owes them for the horrific ways we exploit, abuse, and harm them every single day.”
Though her disease is now in remission, Olivia described the prolonged period before recovering her health as a dreadful time. But Jim noticed that Olivia brightened whenever she encountered stories about a group of goats who lived on a refuge called Goats of Anarchy in New Jersey. He suggested they rescue a few goats of their own.
Oreo gets around on three limbs after suffering a broken leg that eventually had to be amputated. (Photo by Lisa Aciukewicz)
First came brother goats Kurloz and Merlin, followed by Leo and Dante. All four had been destined for the slaughterhouse, a common fate for baby male goats born on dairy farms, as these kids were. The backyard of the DiNardo home in downtown Concord seemed to shrink as the goats slowly made themselves at home.
After rescuing Newton and Serani in 2019 from an animal hoarder, and with the grass in their backyard nibbled to nothing, the DiNardos began searching for a place where they could live and create a goat sanctuary. In 2020 they found the 8-acre Old Littleton Road property, known by those familiar with old Harvard as the summer house built in 1915 by wealthy cookbook pioneer Fanny Merritt Farmer, though Farmer died before the house was finished.
Soon after moving in, the DiNardos built a large barn, with stalls, that opens first to a play area and then to an extensive pasture for the goats, and a shed used to temporarily isolate a sick or new-to-the-sanctuary animal. They filled in an inground pool as part of the outdoor renovation, making extra room outdoors for the goats and for a large poultry coop.
Nigerian dwarf goats Leo (left) and Merlin enjoy their scratching station, a street-sweeping brush that Jim DiNardo repurposed for use at the sanctuary. (Photo by Thomas Kilian)
So much like dogs
A recent visit to the sanctuary found most of the goats circulating quietly in their recreational area, swapping places on wooden platforms, rubbing their chests against their giant yellow street-sweeping brush, gathering at times near Olivia, apparently to receive the foot rubs they adore. According to Olivia, “One of the most common things we hear people on our tours say is, ‘I had no idea how much they’re like dogs.’” Like dogs, she said, they can bond with people and are “smart and affectionate.” But at chow time or when a new animal joins the group, the goats’ natural instinct for herd hierarchy kicks in. At Sowa, the top guy is Merlin, who began life unluckily as a dairy cull and now reigns as the herd’s alpha goat. Multiple feeding stations and a watchful eye usually solve any problems with bullying, Olivia said. (It can be noted, however, that Merlin was charming for the duration of the Press’ visit.)
And just as with some rescue dogs, there are limits to bonding and affection for the most traumatized goats. Newton and Serani, victims of the hoarding situation, are devoted to each other but don’t clamor to meet new people.
Enrico, Erwin, and Dalton are survivors from a herd abandoned in winter without adequate food, water, or shelter, leaving Enrico with caprine arthritis encephalitis, most often a fatal disease. Thanks to regular veterinary care over the course of a year, plus cold laser therapy and herbal remedies administered by Olivia, Enrico has survived. His once palsied leg now works well. He rests overnight in a warm barn, in a pen he shares exclusively with Erwin and Dalton.
Alpine goats Sweetpea and Oreo didn’t come from an abusive home, but they had it rough for a while. Both had broken legs as tiny kids and were taken in by a foster mom. Sweetpea healed, but Oreo’s leg never did, and it was amputated. Oreo now gets around on three limbs, and last week she started wearing a brace to relieve pressure on her remaining back leg.
Chickens and turkeys, too
A separate part of the yard contains a large coop for 11 chickens and three turkeys. A colorful bantam chicken, with coloring reminiscent of a monarch butterfly, revealed another unfortunate example of the inhumanity Olivia denounces. The bantam is one of several brought to Sowa by an Ohio group that rescues unsold hatchlings—about to be thrown in the trash— from farm supply stores, she said. The main mission is goats, she said, but she takes birds in emergencies. “The hardest thing is to say ‘no.’”
One thing the nonprofit sanctuary is unlikely to say “no” to is donations, which the DiNardos use in addition to their own money to care for the animals. Monthly, the goats eat 60 bales of hay and 200 pounds of hay pellets, while 50 bags of pine shavings are required for bedding. That adds up to around $2,000 a month, not including vet visits, the costliest item in the budget, and the one that’s hardest to predict. Lifelong care for a goat can mean 14 to 18 years, so the sanctuary has also not ruled out expansion. Olivia DiNardo said they’d like to “build an additional barn in the future so we can welcome more goats in need of a soft landing.”
The couple, medical professionals who practice full time, run the sanctuary on their own daily labor. Olivia takes care of administering cold laser therapy for the goats that need it and also creates her own botanical remedies. When a new goat comes to stay, Jim taps into his list of scientists after whom to name the goats; think: Enrico Fermi, John Dalton, Erwin Schrödinger. Also on board are a few dedicated volunteers and pet care professional Jessica Cohen, who praises the sanctuary’s work. “Olivia deserves recognition for all that she does,” Cohen said. “The goats are in heaven, literally,” she added.
The Sowa Goat Sanctuary at 184 Old Littleton Road is a 501(c)(3) organization that accepts donations (see the Press “Giving Guide” ). Visits are available by appointment (sowagoatsanctuary@gmail.com); admission fees are per person on a sliding scale. The sanctuary is also on Facebook and Instagram.
