None of us were happy to see the snow.
We adult goats have shed most of our winter underfur.
The little ones had never seen this snow stuff before.
Little Keith ran and jumped in the hay pile
I can't say as I blame him.
It is warm and dry in the hay pile.
The publicist told him to come down.
She said that every other goat was already at the goat pens.
It took some doing but he finally agreed.
He was not happy about it though.
He thought this snow stuff was COLD.
He did not want to touch it.
He ran across the barn pad but he then encountered a bigger problem.
"You expect me to run in all of that SNOW?" he maaaaed
"Yes," the publicist answered, "I do."
Poor little Keith.
Oh, that is right. He is a wether now.
He finally, cautiously, stepped down.
A little further Keith.
See, it's not so bad!
Uhm, is that the Goat Stare of Death?