The Day Starlight Was Born

Copyright 2026, DeeLayne Roark McCoy

(I wrote this as a children’s book, so enjoy the story of the day our loud baby goat came into the world.)

When Farmer Shawn brought Juliet, our mama goat, home from a farm where there were dozens of goats roaming free, and mostly feral (that means not tame or interested in being touched by people much), he figured she was carrying a baby. Turns out he was right, as usual (it’s so annoying). 

We had no idea when to expect the baby to arrive. As it happens, I was home alone one day, and decided to step outside and peek in on the animals a little before lunchtime. Juliet and Ranger, our billy goat, were outside together, and I stepped around the barn to look for them. As my eyes scanned the grass, I spotted something small and white next to Juliet. I didn’t have my glasses on, so I had to squint to see better as I walked closer to the goats. 

I could have fainted dead away (that means I was surprised) when I realized what I was seeing: it  was a tiny baby goat (they’re called kids)! I didn’t mean to, but I named her right then and there: she was Starlight, and no other name would do. 

Mama Juliet was licking Starlight clean, and Ranger was just standing there, looking a little dumbfounded (that means shocked). It was probably the most well behaved I’ve ever seen him, come to think of it. He spends most of his days stirring up more trouble than a king snake in a hen house (that means he’s a mess, y’all). 

The goats were all huddled next to the barn, but still out in the open, and I didn’t want any hawks flying over to think that baby looked like an easy meal. I hustled (that means hurried) into the barn and got a stall ready with clean shavings, hay to eat, and a bucket of clean water for Juliet. I went back out and gently scooped up baby Starlight, and I am here to testify (that means I’m fixin’ to tell you the truth), I had never in all my days heard something so little holler so loudly! When Starlight commenced to bellering (that means making a lot of noise), she set her mama off, too, so both mama and baby were baaaaa-ing fit to wake the dead (that also means they were loud). I got into the stall and set Starlight carefully on the ground, and Juliet came barreling in (that means she was coming whether anyone tried to stop her or not) to check on her wailing baby. 

But all was not well. Juliet wouldn’t let Starlight nurse (that means drink milk from her udders). Every time Starlight tried to latch on and start suckling, her mama would jump and run to the other side of the stall. Starlight was just born, and she was hungry. She wouldn’t make it if Juliet didn’t start nursing her soon. So I kind of panicked (that means I freaked out). I jumped in the car and headed to the farm store.

When I got there, I jumped out of the car and ran in like a house on fire (that means I was in a big hurry). I looked everywhere, but couldn’t find the baby goat formula (that’s mama’s milk replacement for babies). I must have looked fit to be tied (that means worried and stressed), because a young man stopped me and asked if he could help me. I told him what I needed, and he grabbed a bag of formula off of a high shelf for me. “Thank you so much! I’m so worried about my newborn kid!” And you know what he said? “No problem, ma’am, I don’t even work here, but I’m here all the time, and pretty much know where everything is. Good luck with that kid!” For the first time that day, I laughed, and it was a bit of a relief for a moment. I paid for my formula and my kitten bottle, and raced back home to see to Starlight.

I high-tailed it back out to the barn (that means I went fast), and poor little Starlight was still wailing in protest about not having any milk in her belly yet. I scooped her up again, causing her to loudly baaaaaaa some more, and took her straight into my kitchen, where I sat down on the floor with her and tried to give her a bottle of kid formula. That went over like a ton of bricks (that means she was not interested at all), and all she did was scream at the top of her lungs until I gave up and headed back to the barn with her. 

All the way to the barn, she yowled in my arms, while her mama yowled back from the stall. The racket was worse than standing next to a whole trumpet section of a school band (that means it was loud, again). When I put Starlight down near Juliet, everyone stopped screeching, and she tried one more time to nurse. I held my breath, and whispered, “pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease,” and without another complaint, her mama let her latch on. Starlight makes the sweetest little happy humming sound when she nurses, and I stood there, almost in tears myself, so grateful her mama figured out what she was supposed to do to feed her baby. 

Starlight is three months old now, and she’s darn near as big as her mama. She races around like a whole herd of buffalo (that means you can really hear her coming), bounces off of people, her mama, the side of the barn, or whatever else is nearby, and head butts you like the goat she is. Starlight still can baaaa loud enough that we can hear her all the way from the house, some days, and we love her to pieces.

When Farmer Shawn and our daughter, Eliza, came home the day Starlight was born, I made them come out to the barn so I could show them the surprise baby. They both looked over the stall door, mouths hanging open, and Eliza said, “can we name her Daisy?!” I bit my lip, and told them she already had a name. “Oh my gosh, Mom, you name EVERYTHING!” Eliza protested, but it’s true, I do. Farmer Shawn asked, “What did you name this one?” 

With a wistful smile, I answered, “Starlight.”