We Went to the Farm and Named a Goat

So we have these friends who have a ton of land and just happen to own farm animals. It's a pretty sweet set-up, if you don't mind shoveling cow shit day in and day out.  They have goats for fun and chickens for fun and profit (eggs!), and two cows that they are raising until... well, until they get hungry.

So there's that.

The cows and one of the goats are extremely sociable.  They have personality for days, and they have names.  The other goats?  A bunch of dicks.  They won't let anyone come near them, they run about in a herd, and they just loll about the fields like self-righteous assholes.  So their human owners don't go near them and didn't even bother with names.  Because they're a bunch of dicks.

But the dick-goats are fairly attuned to the workings of the day.  They are let out of the barn in the morning time, and instinctively know when to head back to the barn in the evening.  Last weekend, that's exactly what they did.  However, when the goats went into the barn on Friday night, there were four of them.  In the morning, five came out.  Well, four and a half.

BABY GOAT.

And thus my story actually has a purpose!

We were invited over for dinner and were given the important responsibility of naming the baby goat.  We settled on Jasper.  Mike got into the pen and held him and I petted him, and the name just came to me. I don't know why.  Perhaps from a 30 Rock episode...

He looks just like his mom, who technically does have a name: White Face.

BABY GOAT OMG.

WHITE FACE AND JASPER OMG.

We were sent home with leftovers from dinner and about two dozen fresh farm eggs.  The next morning, I asked Mike, "Are you going to want to eat these eggs?"  His reply?

"I don't know.  I know the chickens.  So it's weird."

I totally get what he means.