Girl Meets Goats

I had no idea there was a goat farm in the heart of Atlanta. In the middle of one of the city’s historic neighborhoods {fittingly located near the zoo} is a turn-of-the-century house with goats and chickens and turkeys that run free across the lawn.

I stayed at this goat farm last weekend since it’s also a bed and breakfast inn.

When I chose the accommodations earlier in the month for a weekend in Atlanta, it sounded like an adventure. Even though I’m a city girl who enjoys getting away to luxury, I thought staying at a farm would be kind of fun. 

But after a stress-filled week, I found myself dreaming of a luxury hotel, sinking into a super-soft bed with feather-filled pillows and the sweet scent of lavender and vanilla surrounding me.

But here I was at a goat farm in the middle of Atlanta. 

With goats named Tallulah and Daisy and Maverick and Angus, peering at me while standing atop their barnyard table.

With plenty of feathers floating around, just nowhere near my pillow. 

With the lingering aroma of bacon and potatoes in the air whenever I stepped out of my room. 

With the farm’s four cats roaming the barnyard and the house, sleeping wherever they fancied. 

I knew I'd left the city far behind when I returned to my room to find the door open and a cat snuggled on my pillow. 

The same cat that I had seen just a few hours earlier rolling in the grass with the chickens and turkeys and goats.

I was kidding myself {did you get the goat pun?} thinking that if I turned over the pillow, the other side {wrinkled with a bit of stray cat fur} would be fresh and clean. 

Since I'm a little {a lot} obsessive about my hair, I'm not quite sure how I managed to sleep through the night with my head on that pillowcase without any nightmares. 

But miracles do happen. Of that I am sure.

So if farm animals were going to be my constant weekend companions, I wanted photos of them to prove that I could really revel in country life.

But those chickens were surprisingly clever. 

Every time I walked toward them to snap a picture, they jogged away from me at breakneck speed in the opposite direction. 

I’m guessing something inborn tells them they’re often chased for rather nefarious reasons.

The innkeeper snickered as she watched me chase her chickens around the yard in my high-heeled boots and finally snatched up one of them and held it out to me. I was horrified. 

I didn’t mean I wanted to TOUCH a chicken, I just wanted to be sort of close to one to take a picture with it. 

I envisioned a photo of me looking all casual and glamorous, strolling with some chickens. Like several feet away, and certainly not close enough to look in its beady little eyes.

As the chicken tried to flap its wings and kicked, I couldn’t believe I was reaching out and grabbing it. 

I screamed for my sister to snap the photo before I dropped the chicken.

I barely recovered from that {here comes another pun} fowl experience when I was surrounded by turkeys. 

The innkeeper explained that the turkeys were mistaking me for one of their own and were trying to court me by strutting their stuff. At first it felt kind of nice to be romanced by so many dark and handsome fellows.

But with a black goat standing in a wheelbarrow staring unnervingly at me and the turkeys chasing me to ask me on a date, I was pretty sure I’d had enough of the farm-girl adventure.

I couldn’t find any glamour amidst the goats. And if I had to talk turkey, well, I guess farm life isn't really my style.

But I discovered that luxuriating in an experience doesn’t necessarily mean that it will be luxurious. 

There might be a little goat waste to wallow in. I may not have a bed of roses to sleep in. And I could get some chicken droppings on my high heels.

So if I were to reflect on my brief sojourn in the country, I guess I sashayed through the goat pen in my ruffly black suede boots. I held a squawking chicken in my arms. I was courted by some passionate turkeys. 

I'm not sure why but somehow that all sounds remarkably familiar. 

I think it just might paint a picture of the adventure that is my life.

I'm having coffee with my friends at Holley Gerth's place at Coffee for Your Heart. Click the image to read some inspiring posts!