NEW GLARUS - For the past 25 years, three cast members in the New Glarus performances of "Heidi" have never had a curtain call - the two goats and their handler, John Marean.
The classic 1880 play, written by Swiss author Johanna Spyri, is performed annually at the Heidi Festival in New Glarus.
Just before the curtain opens for the cast to take their bows, Marean leads the year-old goat backstage, picks up the two-month old goat that was in the first act, and takes them to a small hill on the side of the New Glarus High School.
There, audience members are welcome to pet the goats and have their pictures taken with them.
The goats have never stayed for a curtain call, because of their unpredictable habits of nature.
It's one of the things Marean said he is always in danger of getting hit with while working.
Marean and one of the goats are on stage for the entire first and fourth acts. The goats often are stealers of the scene, being cute or, without cue in the middle of an act, pulling the rope that rings a bell.
But Marean is never seen. He lies on a sheet of foam rubber on the floor almost directly under his charges, hidden behind a fence and hay bales.
His part in the play is to keep the goats from jumping and remain standing upon a hay bale for almost a half hour at a time.
"You got to know what you're doing, and you can't be really big, because I'm scrunched in there," Marean said.
About five years ago, a goat kicked and hit Marean just above his left eyebrow. Although bleeding badly, he remained on the floor for the remainder of the scene. After the play, he had to have about a dozen stitches to close the gash.
He now wears a motorcycle helmet that Irene got him.
The different goats used every year are from the Lawrence Hefty farm, and Marean, now 64, has handled them all.
Although Marean used to farm in the New Glarus area, he now lives in Scioto Mills, Ill., and drives about an hour to do the play.
The Heidi play has had a special place for a long time in Marean's life, with tell-tale signs. He knows the play by heart. Two of his daughter have played both Heidi and Clara in the play, and a third daughter is named Heidi.
Marean said he is "conned" into being the goat wrangler each year, but his wife of 12 years, Irene, scoffed at him.
"He wouldn't know what to do with himself, if he didn't do this," she said.
A member of the Heidi Festival committee, Marean was the one who first proposed using live goats in the play.
"They used wooden goats before," Marean said. "You couldn't feed it, you couldn't pet it, it was just up there."
On stage, the goats will interact with the characters or appear to be watching them, but often times will ignore them for the more interesting bell rope. They give the play a natural authentic air, and a mild touch of comedy in an otherwise emotional story line.
The bell is used in the story to summons the community in an emergency. Cast members used to try to keep the rope away from the goat, but Marean told them to go ahead and let the goat play with it.
The play also uses live kittens on stage, but it is the bell-ringing goat who has become something of a celebrity at the New Glarus Heidi performances.
The classic 1880 play, written by Swiss author Johanna Spyri, is performed annually at the Heidi Festival in New Glarus.
Just before the curtain opens for the cast to take their bows, Marean leads the year-old goat backstage, picks up the two-month old goat that was in the first act, and takes them to a small hill on the side of the New Glarus High School.
There, audience members are welcome to pet the goats and have their pictures taken with them.
The goats have never stayed for a curtain call, because of their unpredictable habits of nature.
It's one of the things Marean said he is always in danger of getting hit with while working.
Marean and one of the goats are on stage for the entire first and fourth acts. The goats often are stealers of the scene, being cute or, without cue in the middle of an act, pulling the rope that rings a bell.
But Marean is never seen. He lies on a sheet of foam rubber on the floor almost directly under his charges, hidden behind a fence and hay bales.
His part in the play is to keep the goats from jumping and remain standing upon a hay bale for almost a half hour at a time.
"You got to know what you're doing, and you can't be really big, because I'm scrunched in there," Marean said.
About five years ago, a goat kicked and hit Marean just above his left eyebrow. Although bleeding badly, he remained on the floor for the remainder of the scene. After the play, he had to have about a dozen stitches to close the gash.
He now wears a motorcycle helmet that Irene got him.
The different goats used every year are from the Lawrence Hefty farm, and Marean, now 64, has handled them all.
Although Marean used to farm in the New Glarus area, he now lives in Scioto Mills, Ill., and drives about an hour to do the play.
The Heidi play has had a special place for a long time in Marean's life, with tell-tale signs. He knows the play by heart. Two of his daughter have played both Heidi and Clara in the play, and a third daughter is named Heidi.
Marean said he is "conned" into being the goat wrangler each year, but his wife of 12 years, Irene, scoffed at him.
"He wouldn't know what to do with himself, if he didn't do this," she said.
A member of the Heidi Festival committee, Marean was the one who first proposed using live goats in the play.
"They used wooden goats before," Marean said. "You couldn't feed it, you couldn't pet it, it was just up there."
On stage, the goats will interact with the characters or appear to be watching them, but often times will ignore them for the more interesting bell rope. They give the play a natural authentic air, and a mild touch of comedy in an otherwise emotional story line.
The bell is used in the story to summons the community in an emergency. Cast members used to try to keep the rope away from the goat, but Marean told them to go ahead and let the goat play with it.
The play also uses live kittens on stage, but it is the bell-ringing goat who has become something of a celebrity at the New Glarus Heidi performances.