The become unmanageable and go rogue in the late fall when they graze through the ripening medicinal marijuana plots, then plod down into the village. Once they find the farmers market all hell broke loose. The are fond of the organic raisin bread and sticky buns our fine local baker produces. After they gorge themselves, they fall asleep all over the village.
While they are snoozing, the officials come in with a skyhook and relocate them far back in the hill only to have the spectacle repeat itself the following year. It's a real pain in the ass for the baker, but the organic farmers are swearing the manure they leave behind is beneficial in growing magic mushrooms. One industrious farmer even discovered, after is is properly cured, the manure make a fine smoke.
