We do not need baby goats. Obviously. That is ridiculous. Intellectually speaking, it makes no sense at all. But put a baby goat and an intellectual in front of us, and the baby goat wins, every time.
It’s springtime, and that’s baby goat time down at the Key Peninsula. (They’re not actually called baby goats, for those who want to sound in the know.) Female goats are ‘nannies’, intact male goats are ‘billies’ and baby goats are ‘kids’. Interesting side note per wikipedia – Castrated goats are ‘wethers,’ as in, wether you like it or not sir, we’re sorry to say, no more ‘nannies’ or ‘kids’ for you, I suppose. Where were we?
Ah yes. While out running last weekend, I noticed the little farm down the road had a new, tiny little paddock full of kids. And on the way back, the kids were on the loose, so I jogged closer for a better look. They have very sweet square pupils.
I spent a few minutes imagining goats milk and goat cheese and darling little goats romping around our cabin with the dogs. Then the mother showed up and told everyone to run away from the jogger lady.
- People with Goats Succeed! (bethtrissel.wordpress.com)
- Grandma and the Goats (chismheritagefarm.wordpress.com)
- Cuter Than a Lawnmower: Would You Let a Goat Mow Your Lawn? (apartmenttherapy.com)
- West Seattle double take: Garden goats, out for a walk (westseattleblog.com)