My sporadic blogging leaves me wondering whether or not I introduced you to the High Heart resident nuisances.
When I took over the barn, I inherited some chickens, a 3-legged coon hound, and two cats. I’ve told you my disastrous attempt at raising chickens, but have I told you the story behind the goats?
After my chickens were slaughtered, I was feeling pretty sorry for myself. The hubs was away at NTC (Army stuff, yo), so I decided to do a bit of retail therapy. Except, I was sad because my chickens had been mercilessly butchered, so my retail therapy came in the form of 4 legs. Meet Ginger Ale.
As those of you with goats are aware, you can’t just have one goat. They are indeed the loneliest creatures on Earth if you separate them from a herd. Poor little Ginger bleated her head off for a solid 14 hours until I pleaded with the woman I’d gotten her from to sell me another. Hence, Root Beard.
Now the intent, from the get-go was to get two goats I could milk–thus making them useful creatures. And, since Rootie had very recently weaned a buckling, she was still producing quite a bit of milk. But, these were two goats whose sole purpose in life until now had been to roam free and eat weeds out of an overgrown lot. So first, I had to tame them. Thankfully, this is relatively easy to do. Goat are very food motivated; it wasn’t long before both goats realized if they wanted to eat, they had to tolerate some scritching and petting. And then they realized that was kinda nice, so voila…tame goats.
The tricky part was the milking. I’d milked a cow before, but never a goat. Turns out it’s only slightly different, and despite Rootie’s protests, I got pretty good at it.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before Rootie realized that if she sat down, I couldn’t get to her bag. Soon, the milking process involved three people: a milker, a feeder, and a handler. The poor handler got stuck literally holding Rootie up while I milked her as quickly as possible. Eventually, I decided it was too much trouble and gave up. I couldn’t convince the hubs to replace his skim milk with goat’s milk anyway.
So, now we have two resident nuisances who pretty much do whatever the heck they want. And that, my friends, is the story of the two nuisances.!