The goats are frisky these days. They're playing more. As you can imagine, they play a little more roughly than you or I would. (Well, I can't speak for you, but I don't normally head-butt people when I'm playing with them.) The two females charge each other and bang horns. Little Ben's horns aren't big enough to do that yet, so he just play-fights with them.
They do appear to be having fun, but of course I'm sure in goat world it all has some serious sociological meaning.
Or maybe not...sometimes it's just fun to bully the little guy.
Of course, little guys grow up to return the favor pretty fast. Watch your back, Miss Arlene.
What's really fun is watching them on the boat dock. They love it there. Around dusk every night they retire there for the evening. You can heard their big cloddy hooves banging on the wood as they rough-house a bit, then they each settle into a corner and fall asleep.
Unfortunately, I go down around 8:30 every evening to put Gus in his stall for the night, and they assume that means I'm going to feed them. (It never means I'm going to feed them, but hope springs eternal.) So I start out for the stall, then I hear the hooves start clanging on the dock, and then shortly after that there are eager little goat faces pushing at my empty hands....then disappointed, betrayed little goat faces tugging at my heartstrings, but never quite enough for me to go get food for them.
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