Every Saturday and many Sundays, my wife and I head to the nearby town of Lexinton, Massachusetts where we have the amazing good fortune to be friends with some suburban goat herders. When the weather allows it, and in every season, we accompany the goats and their human companions to the pasture to forage and to graze. Because in my mental picture of goats in pasture there should be music, I bring my flute and I play to them.
Yesterday, the weather was lovely but it had rained a lot overnight and the pasture was a mix of melting snow and mud, not much fun for goats or humans. Anticipating this the day before (Saturday), our friends invited us to visit the goats in their backyard barnyard. Meanwhile, a mile or so away another friend who also keeps goats was watching over one in the last stage of pregnancy and last night she gave birth to two beautiful and healthy baby goats, a boy who is all white and girl who is black and white.
