Lainey Morse feels like "my place on this planet" is to make sure people know that goats can be a happy distraction. (Credit: Original Goat Yoga)
Yes, We Need Goat Yoga Now More Than Ever
In 2016, Lainey Morse introduced goat yoga for stress relief as the world became increasingly divisive. Not much has changed.
It’s been almost a decade since Lainey Morse – on a whim – invited friends over to her bucolic Oregon farm to unwind with yoga and cute, cuddly goats. Thanks to photos posted online, and a spread in Modern Farmer magazine, the concept of “goat yoga” quickly went viral. Articles in The New York Times, Wall Street Journal and People soon followed, as did interviews on television. “Everything you can think of, goat yoga has been in, and it’s just mind-blowing,” Morse says.
That was back in late 2016, when people were looking for “happy distractions” during a divisive presidential campaign that resulted in a stunning upset victory for Donald Trump. “Baby goats jumping everywhere” fit the bill, Morse says. Now that we’re in 2025? “It’s even crazier,” she says. “People need something. It’s really based on getting outside in nature, bonding with lovable animals, and disconnecting from this crazy world we live in. It’s very effective.”
Bring on the goats. After a rollercoaster startup journey to turn goat yoga into a viable business, Morse now has eight locations, including in California and Michigan. Her clients include universities who are eager to find a safe (and parent-approved) way for stressed-out students to chill out. Copycatters have come and gone, as well as the heady days when social-media searches for #goatyoga came in hot and heavy. The pandemic nearly crushed everything. But the business has managed to endure — and Morse claims she will never stop doing it. “It’s something you just never get sick of,” she says. “It’s just amazing.”
Goats Goats Goats
To understand why Morse is so obsessed with goats, it’s handy to know a little bit about the ruminant animals, one of the first to be domesticated by humans. They chew their cud – meaning, they slowly munch partially digested food in their mouths – and “it’s a very methodical action,” she says, almost meditative. “When they graze, they pull the grass out of the ground, and that sound of them grazing is relaxing.”
In 2015, Morse, who was then working a corporate job in marketing, was going through a tough time. She had just gotten a divorce, and was diagnosed with a painful autoimmune condition. For fun, she had bought two goats, named Ansel and Adams, after the famous photographer.
Feeling like a “shell of a person,” she would head to the barn on her rented farm after work, and lie on the floor and sob. “And my two goats would just lie right down next to me and nuzzle me,” she remembers, with a chuckle. “I was like, ‘What? I had no idea that goats were this loving and affectionate, and therapeutic.’ It was better than any antidepressant you could take.”
Soon she was inviting friends over for “Goat Happy Hour” – sometimes with wine, but mostly just to cuddle with the goats. “Everybody left happy,” she says. When a yoga instructor acquaintance suggested a yoga class, “I was like, ‘I’m game. That sounds fun,'” she recalls. “We started marketing it, and it absolutely blew up my life.”
The first class was held in August 2016. Within months, Morse had a waiting list of 2,400 people, and was sneaking into the bathroom or out to her car at her marketing job to take press calls. “By October, there was already copycatting,” she recalls. And by November, “my boss had read online on CNN that I planned on quitting my job” – and so, after an awkward conversation with him, she did.
Related
While Morse tried unsuccessfully to trademark “goat yoga” (the U.S. Patent & Trademark Office deemed it too generic), she settled on a better way to build the brand: Licensing. She spoke with goat farms all over the country, and found many that were interested in providing friendly, well-treated goats (a priority for Morse) for yoga classes in return for her providing back-end support, including social media marketing, private event coordination and customer service.
What followed were “amazing years” that brought in about $2 million in revenue. “We were partnering with [celebrity chef] Gordon Ramsay, flying to California, doing shows on HBO and TLC,” she says, not to mention private events “for all the big tech companies – Google, Facebook.” Her business – Original Goat Yoga – had 18 locations.
The Road Back
And then, like many businesses – but especially in-person, event-oriented ones – Original Goat Yoga took a hit during the pandemic. After a long delay of 18 months, Morse opened back up in late 2021 to a changed world… but one that still clearly needed some stress relief.
The big tech companies aren’t too interested in wellness events anymore, Morse says, but universities are – and in the past year, Berkeley, Stanford, University of Kentucky, Michigan State and more have hired Original Goat Yoga to provide “animal therapy” events for students.
Back at her farm, Morse manages her remaining eight locations, and also has branched out into a flower business. Now re-married, she and husband Sean Scorvo have built a pesticide-free flower farm based on a German horticultural technique called hugelkultur. “We started the flower farm so that if people stopped coming to goat yoga, we would have a backup plan,” she says.
She is particularly pleased she found a way to combine goat yoga and flowers – “my two favorite things” – into a business she has dubbed No Regrets Flower Farm & Animal Sanctuary.
What hasn’t changed, however, are her standards for goats at all her locations. “I’m very against treating it like a cash cow or a circus where people are dressing their goats up in costumes or training them to jump on people’s back with treats,” she says.
Perhaps because of the high-quality care, her original two goats – Ansel and Adams – are still alive and well (goats usually live 10-12 years). She currently has 12 goats, many of them seniors on arthritis medications who are “the best yogi goats” around. “They rub their heads up against you and we call them head hugs,” she says.
She’s not sure what the future holds, especially with trade wars brewing, but she’s content on her picturesque farm, which has “360-degree views of rolling grass and mountains.” And goats will always be a part of it. “I feel like my place on this planet is to make sure that I can share this happy distraction,” she says. “I won’t stop until I can’t do it anymore.” ◼️