A muse to goats. I want one.

A muse to goats. I want one.

It’s amazing how an hour in a field can change one’s outlook on a creature.

Take the goat.

Before last week, my main memory of a goat was when I was about five and visiting some poor man’s petting zoo that smelling of hay. At some point in my visit, I felt a tug at the back of my coat. Turning around I saw a goat held the hem of my all-weather in his mouth.

This caused quite the panic in my little self — but I remained calm on the outside and darted away.

That’s when I learned  goats will eat anything and they are scary.

Which of course they are not. On both counts.

My children and I ventured out to Angelina and Mark Bellebuono’s farm on the last warm day before the cold — New Year’s Eve — I think.

Miss Angelina as my daughter refers to her. Miss Angelina is not only a goat herd-ess (or goat heiress) she is an amazing award-winning photographer.

But that day, we ventured out in the country to see her…peacocks.

And the chickens.

Then we trekked to the field.

I trust Miss Angelina, not with blinding love as my daughter, but I trust that she wouldn’t lead us to some crazed coat-eating, kicking critters. (Or so I hoped.)

For the next hour we sat in the field amongst their goats. And I fell in love. I learned all their names and how she raised many of them as orphans, feeding them with a bottle. And those whom she bottle-fed came and sat amongst us like the best-of-man’s friends.

Sniffing the coat. But that's all. 🙂

Dining on some privet.

Pearl, the Great Pyrenees, is their guardian from predators.

Then there was Lucinda. The baby. Angelina got the call that someone found this orphaned babe.

After a bit, Lucinda crawled up in my daughter’s lap just as a tired puppy.

They were so very dear.

Funny how spending an hour with something can change a lifetime of perspective.

If that can be said of four-legged hoofed creatures, wonder about the  two-legged human kind?

Any goat fans out there?