The trouble is that goats are not only very clever about figuring out how to get through, over, under, or around obstacles, they are also demoniacally motivated. They do not sleep, opting instead to stay up nights chewing their cuds and making plans. A fence to the average goat is Sir Edmond's Everest - a challenge, a reason for living. Unless you are prepared to match a goat's sense of purpose regarding escape with your own regarding containment, you might as well just saw down that apple tree and take a ball-peen hammer to the roof of your car, thereby skipping the middlegoat and maintaining a modicum of control over your own destiny, miserable as that is now that you let a goat into it. It is anyone's guess, but in my defense I know several women who have gone through a first pregnancy that defied description in discomfort, a first delivery so grueling that no mortal could stand the pain, stayed up for weeks with the resultant colic-y infant and had almost zero help from Papa, and yet willingly bore a second child 18 months later.
Goats make more sense than that.
Having goats may be like hanging a millstone 'round your neck, but having babies is like tattooing your forehead. Like everything else in life, you just pick the chains that chafe the least and call it freedom.