We've been waiting for this sweet, tiny little creature to arrive for months. Her mama, Lilly, took her sweet time getting ready to have them, but Daisy and her twin brother finally arrived the day I took over farmsitting duties so George and Kim could have a vacation. The mamas seem to get a kick out of waiting until everyone leaves— when I took care of the farm in January for a week, 12 lambs were born.
Newborn goats are the I'm-going-to-shriek kind of cute. Comical ears sticking out in all directions, a bemused look on their face, that waggling tail and infant-like bleat. Resistance, as they say, is futile. Daisy is the smallest kid I've ever seen, but she's sassy and insistent upon regular nursing. It appears as if she's trying to make up for time lost in utero, because her brother is about as average as a baby goat can be. When she sees him getting ready for a meal, she's quick to run over too. Afterwards, they shake their little tails and stomp their little feet and jump around... and then it's nap time.
No doubt my estrogen levels spike any time I'm near the goat pen, and I convince myself that picking them up is really for their benefit— clearly these babies need to be handled regularly by humans. It's for the kids! and in
my their best interest...