Bonus Goats in Glendale, Nevada

Goats are, without a doubt, one of my all-time most favorite out of the animals. I mean, penguins are stupid cute and wobbly, dolphins graceful and mischievous mysteries, sloths adorably slow-moving little hang-out buddies, but goats have something special in their weirdness. Not only are their pupils unique in their big, goofy, boggling eyes, but their legs seem to be spring loaded with their silly acrobatics sending them catapulting all over the place. They come in such a wide variety, too! Big, gamboling beasts with flat faces and draping meat-curtains for ears, or tiny little dwarf varieties. Their color patterns are as unique as their phenotypes, with all sorts of unique markings distinguishing one goat from his buddy. There are goats who, for whatever strange accumulation of the genetic lottery, are prone to fainting at the slightest startle- then there are big, scary goats who would f**k you up like a roided out bro-ham at a college bar late one Saturday bleeding over into Sunday morning.  The goats we encountered in Glendale, luckily, were of the tamest and friendly manner, happily trotting up to us when we stepped foot near their pen. They were more than happy to let us take photos as long as we paid them in scritchins, because everyone loves a good scratching behind the ears. They were surprisingly quiet, only bleating at us once during our entire encounter...and that sole, singular bleat came when I started to walk away from the pen in an effort to try to photograph the horses gathered nearby. The horses were decidedly less friendly to us and noped out of the vicinity as soon as I showed any actual interest in interacting with them. Their loss- more love for the goats! They were in a pen behind the same little convenience store from the cow post, which was itself directly in front of a ranch of some kind. We didn't want to trespass on anyone's private property, so we didn't explore beyond the lot, but I like to think that given their proximity to such a public place the goats get lots of love and affection from random humans throughout the day. They certainly were receptive to our attention, and when it was time to get back in the van the goats seemed sad to see us go... but perhaps I was projecting my own personal sense of sadness at leaving such a cute lot of friendly faces behind. I'm always pleasantly surprised to encounter goats, whether they're in a petting zoo or a parking lot, and I'm very much excited for the day when I might be able to have my own. Is that weird? I guess. But I don't mind. Goats are awesome!

Moos in Glendale, NV

Don't get me wrong; I love all animals. While I'm not currently a vegetarian (as you might have noticed from posts about eating live shrimp in Noryangjin and making bossam at home) I have been in the past, and even tried veganism for a while. I absolutely understand the reasons for not eating meat, and when I encounter cows out in the real world I always get excited and the car is almost always inevitably pulled over so I can run over and try to forcibly project my adorations on to the cows standing there, minding their own business. Most of the time, the cows could udderly care less about this silly human female flopping about and gesticulating wildly at them while making strange cooing baby-talk noises. They're busy doing cow stuff. Understandable, right? Since most cows you're liable to encounter along the roadside like this are going to be working farm cows,  they likely have a working relationship with the humans they know- and unfortunately, a lot of times that may involve some level of primordial fear in the instinctual awareness that their human's endgame involves eating them, forcibly inseminating them, or stealing their milk. I mean, that's life- I get it. I've been to dairy farms and giggled as the calves eagerly licked and sucked at my thumb in search of milk, but these sweet beasts are often viewed as a resource, a trade good, not a cogent and affectionate animal with intelligence similar to a dog. It bums me out to think about the conditions that most grocery store meat cattle are raised in, as I know a lot of it is far from the idyllic pastural scenes here... In a perfect world, I would buy my meat directly from the farmer who raised that cow, and the bovine would have the most pampered lifestyle of luxury and relaxation up until it's final moment, which would be swift and painless... but until we get to a point where we can bioengineer a sentient source of meat who provides their bodies willingly (as in The Restaurant at the end of the Universe by Douglas Adams) , it's always going to be a bad proposition for the cute little cows. Personally, I don't eat much beef. I will, every once in a blue moon, and a bit of liver and onions is a major power meal for me when I find myself lagging, but I'd much rather have fish or chicken any day.  I don't know the fate of these particular cuties, but they were pretty unenthusiastic about my excitement at their existing here. There was even a little bubba! So cute. Goodness.