I always hated the Grateful Dead song "Fire On The Mountain" because I'd long associated it with the "hippies" at my high school strumming on their guitars and drumming on self-made ceramic jugs atop the lunch tables near the soda machines while I was trying to eat my frozen yogurt cup and preliminarily tackle that night's math homework in peace.
Today I hate it because there really is a fire on the mountain above us, and I can't stop thinking about all the animals that must be running for their lives! The animals. It kills me. The foothills are being evacuated and many people have farm animals up there, so a herd of baby goats, a brood of roosters (I looked up the list of what you call various animals when they come in groups, and apparently this is the one you want for these guys), a trio of dogs, and, temporarily, a horse have come down here to escape.
The baby goats are incredibly emotionally needy, which believe me, is a much, much cuter quality on a baby goat than it is on a person.