But perhaps the name “ibexigoat” is somehow in keeping with the best traditions of our own Michurin biology? Wrong again, colleagues from beyond the mountains! Taking as an example some of the new varieties of apples raised by Michurin, we find such names as Bellefleur-Kitaika and Kandil-Kitaika — names which our people have long accepted and approved of. Here, as in our case, the wild Chinese apple Kitaika occupies its altogether fitting and respectable second place.
As for the idea of crossing a female ibex with a male goat, continued Platon Samsonovich, this seems like a rather strange proposal to be coming from the mouths of specialists. In the first place, given the undesirably and even frighteningly large proportions of the female ibex, it is highly unlikely that a male goat would even attempt to mate with her. But even supposing such a union took place, what would we and the national economy have to gain from it? To answer this question we need only consult our own or foreign texts on the subject of mule breeding.
Centuries of experience in mule breeding have clearly demonstrated that the mating of a male horse with a female ass produces a hinny, whereas the more desirable mule results from the mating of a male ass with a female horse. As is well-known, the hinny is a weak, undeveloped and sickly animal which in addition has a tendency to bite. The mule, on the other hand, is an extremely useful animal and one which plays a worthy role in our national economy, especially in the economy of the southern republics. (The possibility of extending the area of mule breeding farther to the north and of raising even hardier species is not presently under consideration, though the impartial reader could learn a great deal from the ten-day mule run between Moscow and Leningrad which took place in the heart of winter with the animals harnessed to sleighs and hauling a full load [see the Large Soviet Encyclopedia, Volume XI, page 206]).
From the foregoing it should be perfectly clear that when produced by our time-tested method, the goatibex can and should be equated with the mule, whereas if produced in the manner suggested by our Ciscaucasian colleagues, he would turn out to be that very same hinny mentioned above. For this reason we can only reject the proposal of our Ciscaucasian colleagues as an attempt — perhaps an unintentional one, but an attempt nonetheless — to set our livestock-breeding industry onto the false paths of idealism.
Our colleagues from beyond the mountains seem to imply that our goatibexes are the deviants, and only their single ibexigoat is keeping in step. But in step with whom?
The mysterious laconism of this last phrase had an ominous ring to it.
Some two weeks had passed and still we had no reply from the Ciscaucasians. For some reason or other they had chosen to keep silent, and this disturbed our editor no end.
“Perhaps their goatibex has died and now they’re too embarrassed to continue the debate,” suggested Platon Samsonovich.
“Well, call their institute and find out what’s going on,” ordered Avtandil Avtandilovich.
“But won’t we be losing face if we call first?” objected Platon Samsonovich.
“On the contrary,” replied Avtandil Avtandilovich, “it will only show how confident we are that we’re in the right.”
Platon Samsonovich placed his call and, having gotten through to the institute, was informed that the ibexigoat was alive and well, but that the staff members had decided to cut short the debate since only time would tell whose ibexigoats would be the first to prosper and multiply.
“Whose goatibexes,” corrected Platon Samsonovich before hanging up the receiver. “Nothing to say for themselves,” he winked in my direction, and rubbing his hands in satisfaction, he returned to his desk.
I was very impatient to see a real, live goatibex with my own eyes. Much as he approved of my enthusiasm, however, Platon Samsonovich was in no hurry to send me off to the countryside. Up till then I’d had only one out-of-town assignment, and it had not been an unqualified success.
I had set out to sea at dawn with the leading brigade of a fishing collective located just beyond the city limits. Everything had been perfect: the lilac-colored sea, the old dory, and the fishermen themselves — strong, agile and indefatigable. But then, after they had made their haul and we were already on our way back, instead of taking the fish directly to the processing plant, they had veered toward a small promontory which lay off to our side. From along the shore some women with pails and baskets were making their way toward this same promontory, and I could see that we were fated to meet.
“Hey, fellows, do you really think we should stop here?” I asked, perhaps a bit belatedly, since the bow of the dory had just touched shore.
“Sure we should,” they cheerfully assured me, and right away the bargaining was off to a lively start. Within fifteen minutes all of the fish had been traded for rubles and a variety of home-grown produce.
When we set out to sea once again, I tried to lecture them on the impropriety of what they had done. They listened politely but went right on laying out the food and slicing the fresh bread. The meal was soon ready, and when they asked me to join them, I naturally accepted. Anything else would have been unspeakably rude.
We ate our fill, polished off a bottle or two, and immediately afterwards fell into a deep, untroubled sleep.
Later that same day the men explained to me that there had been too few fish to bother with. The processing plant would not even have accepted such a small quantity and, in any case, they were sure to exceed their quota for the season.
Realizing that none of this was proper material for an article, I resigned myself to writing a “Ballad of the Fishing Industry,” in which I celebrated the fisherman’s labor without being too specific as to how he profited from the fruits of his labor. The ballad was well received in the editorial office and soon appeared in print as a new and sophisticated newspaper genre.
But to return to the goatibex.
A regional conference was currently being organized for the purpose of discussing common problems and experiences in goatibex breeding. The animals had already been apportioned among the most prosperous kolkhozes in order that their mass reproduction might begin, but unfortunately, certain kolkhoz chairmen had tried to wangle their way out of the new venture with the excuse that for years they had not even raised goats, much less goatibexes. Such individuals were put to shame, however, and eventually forced to purchase appropriate numbers of female goats. But no sooner had the goats been purchased than our paper began receiving complaints to the effect that some of the goatibexes were acting very cooly toward the females. This prompted our editor to suggest the possibility of artificial insemination, but Platon Samsonovich was firmly opposed to the idea, insisting that such a compromise would only play into the hands of the lazier chairmen. The coolness of the goatibex, he declared, was but a reflection of the kolkhoz chairmen’s own coolness to everything new.
It was just at this time that we received a letter from an anonymous kolkhoz worker in the village of Walnut Springs who was writing in to complain about his chairman’s disgraceful treatment of the goatibex. In addition to depriving the animal of adequate food and shelter, this chairman had actually set dogs on it. The kolkhoz workers were moved to tears by the sufferings of the new animal, but were too afraid of the chairman to protest. The anonymous letter concluded with the words: “Yours sincerely, in a spirit of righteous indignation.”