in which I whine about milking stubborn, resistant goats

Our goat babies, Mike and Liam, have moved on, leaving us Sunday to live with their new family. We were very happy to find a lovely gal to take them in as pets–but sad to see them go. Luc keeps saying, “the baby goats don’t live with us anymore.” He’ll say it at odd and random times, working it through in his head. But it’s good they’ve left us, for one thing because our fence couldn’t take the abuse one more day. They used to do these careening leaps off of the gate, and stick their heads and shoulders through the wires, straining to get out. Why do we think nostalgically about the very things that drove us crazy, once people (and goats) are gone from our lives?

Anyway, bye boys! We love you!

As a result of their departure, however, we are now getting tons of milk. But. Fancy hates being milked.  Just hates it.  She is used to hopping up into the milking stand because I’ve been feeding her up there for months (you give the doe some grain to keep her distracted), so that part is working. But once the food is gone–and Fancy is a total gobbler–she is kicking and jerking and just generally making me crazy.

I can understand how she feels. She keeps looking back at me and kicking me off with the clearest expression in her brown eyes: what the hell are you doing back there??? Are you some kind of perv? I’m trying to eat up here!

The only thing that is saving the whole operation is this hand milker which is kind of like the breastmilk pump I had when Sophie was a newborn. It has a long tube which sucks the milk into a lidded container, thus preventing Fancy from knocking over the bucket and spilling it all, or putting her hoof in it. The milker is made by a gal with small goats (who have small teats, making it very hard to milk them) and is just brilliant.  I don’t know what I’d be doing if I was having to wrestle Fancy without it.  

And despite all my whining, we are getting A HALF GALLON of milk a day from Ms. Fancy, ungrateful goat, whose udder is so engorged now that her boys have gone, she looks as though she will burst. As a recent breast-feeding mother, I see her swollen udder and I KNOW that’s got to hurt. Perhaps because it was so recent for me, I’ve been milking her three or four times a day to give her some relief. I think it will calm down in a few days. I hope. I pray. But man, is that milk good. Fresh and sweet and mild, with no hint of ‘goatiness.’ I just ordered some cheese making stuff. Stay tuned for… Adventures In Cheesemaking!