“Oh nooo… my poor, hungry Lily!” cried a small voice from the corner of the stable. Lily, a baby goat with soft white fur and wide, pleading eyes, let out a faint bleat. She nudged her mother, Libby, trying to get milk, but something wasn’t right.
Libby stood silently, tired and still, her udder barely producing anything. The once steady stream of warm milk had slowed to almost nothing. Lily, confused and hungry, kept trying, but each attempt left her more frustrated and weak.
Sarah, the young girl who helped care for the animals on her family’s small farm, noticed Lily’s behavior first. Usually full of playful energy, Lily now moved slowly, her tiny legs wobbly, her cries softer than usual.
“Did Libby stop feeding Lily?” Sarah asked her mother, worry in her voice.
Her mother walked over and gently examined Libby. “She’s not producing enough milk anymore,” she said softly. “Libby might be tired, or she could be unwell. This happens sometimes.”
Lily nudged again, but only a few drops came out — milk going to waste on the straw as the baby goat struggled in confusion. Sarah knelt beside her and gave her a soft stroke on the head.
“Don’t worry, Lily,” she whispered. “We’ll take care of you.”
That evening, Sarah and her mother prepared a bottle with warm goat milk substitute. Sarah wrapped Lily in a soft towel, held her gently, and fed her slowly. At first, Lily resisted, still trying to find comfort the only way she knew — from her mother. But eventually, she accepted the bottle, taking small sips.
As the days passed, Lily began to regain her strength. Sarah fed her three times a day, and Lily would come running at the sound of her voice. The connection between girl and goat grew stronger. Libby, meanwhile, rested in the shade, watched her baby from a distance, and occasionally nuzzled her.
Though she could no longer nurse, Libby’s presence still comforted Lily. The bond between them hadn’t vanished — it had just changed.
“Lily’s going to be okay, isn’t she?” Sarah asked one evening as she finished feeding.
“Yes,” her mother replied, smiling. “Thanks to you. Sometimes nature changes the plan, but love finds another way.”
Lily let out a tiny, happy bleat and curled up next to Libby in the hay. Fed, safe, and loved, she drifted off to sleep — no longer hungry, no longer confused, just deeply cared for.
