Wayne's goats Pinewoods

At least three times a week, my cardiac handlers have mandated that I take a long—it's around five miles—reasonably fast-paced walk. I have a set route, and while it's often photogenic, I'm not supposed to stop very often once I get my heart rate up to target. However, I do carry a camera with me, and if there's something really worth capturing, well, I'm eternally grateful that my overlords aren't watching the non-action in real time. So when I noticed a lot of commotion alongside a stone wall and realized that that commotioners were a herd of goats, I paused, grabbed my ancient dSLR—my first one, a still-working Nikon D40 with a barely working 55-200mm lens—and snapped away. The "owners" of the goats... as if goats can ever be owned... were old friends and they'd come running to convince their charges that they shouldn't be on the road side of the wall. But there was fresh vegetation to tempt them, including new poison ivy that they love, so it was time to mow... and dine. Given their penchant for that noxious vine, I wouldn't mind leading the mowing crew over to my place for an additional snack.