A Goat Named Pig

We have a calf named Lucy but please don’t tell her she’s a calf. She thinks she’s a sow.

Lucy the Sow. Sigh.

Lucy bellies up to the feedline with the sows, headbutts the bullies out of the way, and protects the “other” sows from the pesky steers who occasionally make their way to the sow pasture. They’re as perplexed as cattle can be by Lucy and baffled in their own little bovine way as to why she won’t join them.

Our newest addition has been a goat. He originally lived in a pen with his three goat buddies but when they were sold, he was left there alone. I worried all day that he would run off and end up in Haswell (I’ve heard of that happening…) so as soon as I returned home, I made tracks out to the barn.

No goat.

I looked in the pen, under the feedbunk, in the sheds. No goat. I walked into the weaner pig barn and heard a little goat bleat. When I came around the corner I saw Caden’s show pigs and the goat, all happily nestled in their pen on the straw.

I tired to put the goat over in his pen with some goat feed. By the time I turned around, he was back in with the show pigs, happily munching Karval Show Pig feed. The conversation went like this:

Pig the Goat eating with the pigs. Whatever.

Me: What are you doing?? I just gave you goat feed.

Him: Bleat.

Me: You’re a goat, little buddy. These are pigs. You need to go be a goat.

Him: Bleat.

Me: Fine.

And that is how he came to be named Pig the Goat.


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