Baby goats are such a delight, i love their curiosity and their sense of completeness and confidence in what they do. The newborns couldn't be touched but those a week or so older were in their own pen, and came up for affection and the chance to nibble on a shirt or jacket. Without a companion, I also noticed other people more than I would have if I'd been chatting with a friend. The happiness of the little kids, their squeals at the hard gums of the baby goats on their fingers, and the way that the fat-cheeked baby just plopped on the ground and stared at the pen of goats like he was watching the most spiritual event he'd ever witnessed. His hippie parents weren't staring at their phones, but just enjoying standing behind him. They tried picking him up but he squawked, and they just waited, on his timeline. I wish I could see who that kid is going to turn out to be.