Here are all three goats with their heads neatened up.
Misty:
Vesla. Since I took these pictures on Sunday, Vesla hasn’t been at all pleased to see me. She won’t gently butt heads with me, and if I stroke her she starts, and then bolts as far away as she can get. Yesterday evening, she hid her head behind a sack so that there was no possibility of eye contact with me.
Vesla:
Vesla. On Monday, I took a big pile of manure away from her perch by the window. Since she’s quite short it’s made it harder for her to see out over the window-sill. I’m wondering if she’s cross with me because of that.
Holly. Holly’s been in a very good mood recently. I suppose Misty is really the most well-adjusted goat; she hardly ever gets cross without it being pretty obviously my fault. She’s not as temperamental as the other two.
Vesla:
A Bad Guide 
Well, of course, there always remains the possibility they have inner moods and seasons of their own, beyond human ken.
Still it would be good to think the suspension of head butting affections on Vesla’s part is merely temporary.
(Head butting with animals is perhaps life’s principal pleasure, it sometimes seems.)
I’m sure it’s only temporary. It is a great pleasure. I only head butt with Ves, the other two have bigger horns and I don’t really know their rules. You can end up getting beaten up.
They are beautiful, as always. How I’d like to try head butting with Vesla!
If Misty is the most well-adjusted, why there’s only one picture of her in this post?
“Since she’s quite short it’s made it harder for her to see out over the window-sill.”
Give her a box to stand on.
A bigger box. She’s already standing on one box. Maybe, when the snow’s melted.