And the Goat Saga Continues

And the Goat Saga Continues….

Goats impress me. They are so useful. They are weedeating, cashmere and mohair clad, milk, soap, cheese, and  meat producing powerhouses. More than 70% of meat and milk consumed worldwide if from goats. They were most likely the first domesticated four legged farm beast and therefore have made a lasting impact on civilization. The goat has even made its way into the vernacular. “Get your goat” originated from horse racing. Race horse owners used to put a goat in the pin to calm their prized horse. Evildoers would then take the goat from their opponents  pin prior to the race, agitating the horse, and really pushing the buttons of the owner, I would image. The opponent knew how to "get your goat." Another use is “Scapegoat”, which dates back several thousand years and has to do with the Day of Atonement (Yom Kippur). This is an ancient Hebrew day of mourning and repentance during which two goats were set aside for the ceremonies. One goat was sacrificed and on the second goat, the high priest figuratively placed all the repented sins from the townspeople. The goat was then released into the wilderness. This goat (which actually got to escape and possibly lived a better life than the sacrificed goat) took with it the blame of all in town. I could continue, but suffice it to say, I think goats are a unique animal.

Several people have been by the bakery and asked how my goats were, so I thought I would respond, and clarify. My first story was a little dated. It was the beginning of our goat journey, almost three years ago. I bought Gabby in May of 2010. To get you up to speed, she has turned out to be a fantastic goat. The billy that she kidded (see “I Bought a Pregnant Goat”) was given to a family friend. Which prompted me to buy a goat for my daughter, Rose, to be Gabby’s companion.  Rose named her goat Sally and she was able to escape our fence on a daily bases. The extra freedom made her think she was “The Boss”. She tried to head-butt Rose one afternoon and I gave her away the next day.

So again, one year after being a goat owner, I was left with one lonely goat. In January 2011 (3 days before the birth of our son, Tag), I shoved Gabby into the trunk of my Xterra and drove her down the bumpy road to my friends farm. I’m thinking that may have something to do with why I delivered Tag 3 weeks early! Gabby was bred to a hippie looking Alpine billy goat. Again, I very impatiently waited for her to kid. I assembled the usual kidding kit, praying once again, that I didn’t need the elbow length gloves to aid her. Every day, for 3 weeks, I proclaimed “Brad, I know she is in labor today, I can tell”. But nothing ever happened….until one evening in July. Again, I thought she was in labor but no one would believe me , so I ran outside with a flashlight about every 10 minutes to check on her. I should have just stayed outside but Brad convinced me that it was another false alarm. I. Missed. It. Again. This time she had twins in the amount of time it took me to run into the house and grab a camera. Cute Nubian-Alpine goats, and I knew right away I was going to keep them.  Seeing a newborn goat should be on everyones "bucket" list. Kids are pretty large, considering their mom hardly looked pregnant the previous day, and they are full of affection and curious energy. Speaking of a "bucket" list...going INSIDE Bojangles is on my daughter's bucket list (as opposed to our usual drive through trip). Aim high Rose, aim high.

In the light of morning, I realized the kids were one of each gender. The billy, who we named Billy…again, had to go. I sweet talked Brad into letting me keep the girl because Rose needed a goat and Gabby needed the company. Rose named her goat Annabelle. Annabelle and I both wanted Gabbys milk (as did the dog and cat who would stand in a line behind the milk stand waiting for a drip, or for Gabby to kick the pail over). I bought a tub of Goat formula so Rose could bottle feed Annabelle. While she fed her (not an easy task for a then four year old, but a good lesson in patients), I was able to get some milk from Gabby. I made the same delicious cheese as mentioned in the previous post. I also attempted to make goats milk soap. The batch of "soap" rotted in the wooden soap box. I stopped millking Gabby after only a few months as it was too difficult with an infant. So I did not get a second attempt at soap. I could just go buy goats milk from the store, but that would be cheating.

I am determined with this next kidding to make the best goats milk soap ever. Handmade goat soap can strengthen, moisturize and smooth your skin. I read once that the first ever soap was created by accident about 3000 BC in Babylon when fats from animal sacrifices, rain, and ashes from the fire combined to create a foamy substance. It wasn’t really a documented event, so who knows what really happened, but I envision an intelligent and resourceful woman happening upon this soap and figuring out its use.

But I digress; now it is late in the fall of 2012 and we have Gabby, Annabelle, and…..our very own billy goat, William Robert. I found William Robert online from a local breeder. He is a Toggenburg (Swiss dairy goat). I chose this breed because they are strong milkers and I chose William Robert because he has a funny patch of curly hair on his head that looks like a toupee, which he totally rocks. I bought him on a snowy October Monday and drove him home in the trunk of my Xterra while my son, Tag, sat strapped in his car seat with his head craned backwards saying “mama, it’s a goat”,  “sit down goat”, and “scoot over goat” like a broken record for the 45 minute ride. As I tried to tune him out, I wondered how I was going to get William Robert out of my Xterra and in to the goat lot. He was only 7 months old, but big and strong. Once I was parked by the goat barn, I opened the back and grabbed his collar. He bolted out of the back and I hung on as tight as possible. “If you try to win a tugging match with a billy goat, you will lose, but if you let the goat pull in circles you can at least hang on”. This was the non-comforting parting advice of William Robert’s previous owner. Was I supposed to just fly around in circles while he dislocated my arm? I wasn’t sure how long I could “hold on” but on his second circle he spotted my nannies. He screeched to a halt, puffed his chest out, curled his lip (yes, they do that) and trotted right to their gate. They regarded him with caution, but immediately started a little goat flirting game. I’ll spare you the details. It’s the end of November now, and he is currently still at my house, although he has over stayed his welcome. The nannies are no longer interested in him (my clue that they are bred) and view him as the pest who won’t leave them alone. This week, William Robert will be passed on to another goat farmer so he can do what he does best.

Once William Robert is gone, we will be back to Gabby and Annabelle until the first part of April 2013, when they should kid.  It is possible for us to have anywhere from two to six sweet little kids, if they both took. I am already impatiently awaiting their arrival. I'm researching soap making techniques, cheese recipes, and Department of Agriculture guidelines so I can use these products at the bakery. And I should also start coming up with an excuse to keep the at least one of the kids. Tag needs a goat, right?