Once upon a field trip, the goats chose violence. Filed under: Goat Wisdom // Origins of Chaos I was four or five – small enough that petting zoos felt magical, and big enough to feed the animals without help. We’d barely stepped into the enclosure when the goats spotted me.I don’t know if it was my floral skort, the smell of my sunscreen, or just cosmic bad luck – but they swarmed. Not a curious nuzzle.Not a polite sniff.A full-on, frenzied, fabric-consuming mob. The Great Goat Incident of Early Childhood Within seconds, I was buried in a living, bleating avalanche.Tiny hooves. Ears everywhere. Adults yelling things like “Oh my god…