Milking the Goats

Helen donned her argyle socks to milk the goats this week—both to protect her legs from poison ivy and to make a fashion statement.
Check out this goat-related editorial from the July 2011 issue of Country Wisdom News:
Getting My Goat
I recently helped two local property owners secure goats for their 30-acre estate. I consider this rolling property to be a truly sustainable landscape—everywhere you turn there is an edible fruit or vegetable, most of which are perennial. There are sugar maples for syrup, beehives for honey, fish in the pond, and now goat milk.

The process of bringing the goats to the property—which required some preparation and education—has been exciting and sometimes hilarious. We built a fenced enclosure in an area that was filled with poison ivy and the invasive multiflora rose (as planned, the goats have since eaten most of these pesky plants). We also built a cute shed for the three goats to eat, drink, and sleep. There’s a momma Tennessee fainting goat, who has milk, her adorable baby boy, and a four-month-old female Alpine goat (she will eventually become the strongest milking goat).

The adventures really began when the momma figured out that she could ram any part of the fence a few times to break through. One morning, a Country Wisdom property manager arrived on the property to find the group relaxing on the bluestone patio. He spent about a half hour chasing them, but their ability to duck and weave exhausted the human.

Once I arrived, we put our minds together to try to get the goats back into the fenced area. It was easiest to catch and carry the baby first as the momma would follow right behind, bahhhing up a storm. Well, she followed us to the gate but did not want to get in. So, with the kids now closed up, my colleague and I tried to corner momma. She dodged left, she dodged right, and she slipped right between us both. The chase was on. We sprinted after a slippery goat, and as I tried to reach for her I saw the blur of my friend diving, Heisman-like, to catch the goat’s collar. He disappeared into the high grass as his free hand slowly rose with a thumbs up.

Never a dull moment when working with nature.

As always, send us your stories, ideas, and thoughts. We’re always looking to share.

–Chris Hewitt