winter blues be gone

I have sat with this post for an hour and I’m not sure what else to say or where else to go with this other than, had you asked me where I thought I might end up in life, I’m pretty sure I would have said “on a farm doing alot of odd things” , but I’m somehow still alarmed that it is true.  We have been dogsitting for two weeks, goat birthing for 3 months, puppy birth watching for 12 hours, cat sitting for a week and otherwise enjoying the menagerie of our lives. To give you an idea of the insanity: our lives have been swirlin about an australian shepeard, a german short hair pointer, a burnese mt. dog, a great pyr cross pup, two cattle dogs, a siamese cat, a psychotic domestic long hair cat, a tuxedo cat, 2 llamas, 3 livestock dogs (one of whom had 9 pups today), about 150 goats (of which about 70 are newborn kids) and four heifers (one of whom will calve any day now).

As of this moment, we are back to life with our own two indoor dogs and a sleepy calm barn full of animals and suddenly it’s very calm, extremely quiet and sort of eerie without the sound of dogs gnawing on bones, barking, claws on wood floors, water being lapped, wrestling, etc. I think we are going to get a good sleep, but it is also kind of sad for us. We clearly like chaos in our lives, I just think it’s funny how strange it feels when it’s gone.

As a side note, we tilled the garden today and I bought a winter jacket that I have been needing to purchase for about 2 years. All said, it was a good day with a good friend, good conversation, good exercise and crazy animalness all about.

I think what I’m getting at (although this is far from a point and relevant to what I’ve shared so far) is that the sun is getting longer, the weather is getting better and I believe, for all intents and purposes that I have shaken my winter blues for the year.

Denial

Black walnut trees are the last to get their leaves in the spring and the first to drop their leaves in the fall. A great tree for people that like to live in denial (like I sometimes do!). I had it pretty good with our mass of black walnuts all these years extending and lengthening seasons that I love (spring and fall). We just planted a willow tree this spring. Willow trees are the first to show signs of spring and the last to drop leaves (with the exception of maybe the Oak). A great tree for people that need inspiration (like I sometimes do!). I have it pretty good now with both trees in my yard! Never will I wonder again if spring will ever arrive and never again will I be surprised that spring is over. Similarly, now I not only have plenty of lead time on when fall is arriving, but also right when it ends. I noticed this last week when I realized my willow still had leaves. I was beginning to think it was like the Oak and would hold on until the whipping winds of January and February like alot of Oaks do, but then they dropped their leaves this Monday. And wouldn’t you know it….it snowed this week!!! I like paying attention to nature. When you listen, it tells you lots of cool stuff.

Alternatively, another comparison that was not so fun was made by me this week. My license has been expired for a week now so I had to go and get it renewed. After I had my picture taken I sat and looked at the picture from four years ago and the picture from this week. Ick. What a lesson in trying new things. I really do honestly think of myself as someone that is adventurous and spontaneous and that tries new things. I guess that is really all relative to your own experiences cause – whoa – the picture was a good reminder to switch things up a little. Not only was I wearing the same color shirt and type of shirt for that matter but my hair was exactly the same and besides for some many unwanted pounds that I clearly put on since 4 years ago, the picture was so identical! I need a change!!!!!!!!!! yikes!

On any given Tuesday

Tuesdays are generally a good day. Not being Monday is the first good thing about Tuesday. Not that I have anything against Monday but Mondays are like driving 70 on the interstate. The interstates are somewhat interesting but from the road you see the least interesting parts, so driving by at 70 is not really a loss because there’s not that much to miss. Tuesdays is like taking the backroad because you’ve already been there done that with Monday and Tuesday provides a new opportunity. If I had to conjecture about the rest of the week, I think sometime between Wednesday and Sunday you stopped to visit a few places on the backroad and by Sunday you are visiting family and friends because you’ve gotten so far off the road that you might as well make a visit. You can see why Monday is interstate day again because you’ve got to get back on the road and get back home. One could make the argument that we could take the backroad home too (in other words, replace a Monday for a Tuesday), but how often do we do that in today’s society? We want it now and fast and the interstate provides that. Monday is like an analogy for the world and its fast paced environment. Now I’m wondering if that’s the right use of the word analogy. Thursday is probably just as interesting as Tuesday but for very different reasons, of which I will not delve into at this moment because the backroads of my mind are getting us off track. Now you know what it’s like to be me for a moment – ya. So, back to visiting neighbors on Sundays…This Tuesday we had two interesting events that may very well be uninteresting to most, but they were interesting enough for me to move the finders on the keyboard.

My first Tuesday story: About half past 7, we took 5 goats to slaughter. They will be sold to a local restaurant that supports local farmers. My heart bursts with pride and thrill to have our community of friends and neighbors sit to dinner enjoying food that we were involved with raising. It is very fulfilling. With confidence I can share that these goats came from a farm where they were happy and treated well. However bittersweet this transaction may be, I feel part of an important circle of events that started with happiness and ended with happiness. We have delivered a few goats to dinner before and it is always a strange and empty feeling. Last night at the butcher shop I muttered the following saying that I heard once by Kahlil Gibran “By the same power that slays you, I too am slain; and I too shall be consumed. For the law that delivered you into my hand shall deliver me into a mightier hand. Your blood and my blood is naught but the sap that feeds the tree of heaven.” Somehow, this puts our actions from birth to death of these animals into an important and meaningful perspective. Somehow, this helped me see things differently this time. Even though we got into the goat business for meat sales, it is still hard to let them go. I felt a little better remembering we too will be delivered – that our birth to death process is really not all that different. Walking away, considering this thought process, my heart was less heavy and the burden was in fact somewhat lighter. I slept easier last night with this perspective.

Tuesday ended in a similarly interesting way. After dropping off the goats, we headed to the house of our Amish friends. Jay wanted to share the good news that the pellet gun he had ordered for the kids to thank them (for their help all year long at the nursery and with the goats) had arrived. As we walked through the dark yard, the warm light from the gas lamps was spilling onto the walkway inviting us in. When we made it to the kitchen, the room was abuzz with excitement. The girls were getting fitted for their dresses made by their mother for the wedding of their brother to take place next week. I thought to all the weddings I had attended and in which I had been involved as an attendant or in some other role and my preparations were really no different. We see the Amish as existing in such a different world than that of our own but when we break it down to the basics – it is all really very much the same. The excitement was visible and tangible as was the anxious feelings and the worry of getting it all done. The girls felt uncomfortable in their new navy dresses but at the same time they were happy for the new clothes and you could tell that they were excited to wear them. The younger kids were at the table coloring and doing homework more or less oblivious to the activities around them. As all of this was going on, Daniel and Jay were discussing the pellet gun and had decided to hold off on sharing it with the boys until Christmas. Daniel decided that the gun would be given as a gift for Christmas and the tag would say “Love, Mum and Dad and Laura and Jay”. To love without condition, to accept without judgment, to invite without precondition, to reach without doubt has provided a lesson – a lesson that you can never go wrong to reach out and get to know your neighbor because the fruits are so perfect and so enjoyable. The labor of the effort is so insignificant to the reward.

On any given backroad Tuesday, we’ll be dropping off goats to the butcher and talking to the Amish about pellet guns and weddings.

of the land…

Recently, I was watching a film about women in agriculture (titled Ladies of the Land). A friend of ours was featured in the film. Early on in the movie one of the women farmers being interviewed was explaining why she got into farming. It got me thinking.

I was not raised on a farm. Most people in my life really don’t entirely understand my connection to the land. I was raised in the most typical and American of ways – ranch house, big family, great neighborhood, close to stuff to do, active in my church and school, normal beyond normal. Or was it normal? As I am older now and making all my own choices (this is a really neat thing about adulthood), I’m realizing that the American normal is a bit askew or at least our history has gotten a bit off track. My perception is that there is a disconnect between people, their food and their surroundings. That perception is constantly reinforced by experiences, conversations, headlines and world news. For me, I remain thankful that my connection, though young and needing nurturing, is alive and growing.

For the majority of my childhood, I was surrounded by people for whom there wasn’t a pet, farm animal, farm, or connection to food or nature in sight. As kids the closest we got to the land was hanging out in the strip of woods near to our house and causing all kinds of ruckus there. On off days we climbed the coal mountains down the road and swung from the bendy birch trees. We were fairly certain that we were the coolest apes around. We spent our days finding fern fossils and burying treasures for future fun. The prime function, at least in our perspective, of these wooded barriers and massive coal piles was the protection that it provided from our parents watchful eyes. It was a place to go, a place to be, a place to cause trouble, a place to create a new world. There were farms “down the valley” but that’s where the rich people lived it was not a world that we knew or understood.

At home, my Dad grew tomatoes around the house. He made me stomp on grass in a bucket to create compost tea with which he watered the garden. He grew cucumbers and beans.  Occasionally, he would try his hand at peppers and other veggies. There were only ever a one or two plants of each. We had a very small property and he fit his vegetable gardening into the landscape leaving plenty of space for his treasured impatiens and petunias. He gardened in such a way that it just blended and was so perfect.  In hindsight it was rather functional and quite beautiful. Experiencing the first tomato from our small garden space as a child was so amazing. To see a plant mature and be green and then create this desirable product was a really fascinating experience. I can remember the pride in my father’s eyes as he carried the first sliced tomato of the season to the dinner table. It was fun to see the joy he experienced in eating it and sharing it with us during the meal. Every small bit of produce that we enjoyed from the garden we enjoyed with zeal and celebration.

I realize now that I’m older that my parents were captains of frugality. The type of frugality I long to know and practice. They did things without books telling them how to and without having to wear badges telling everyone else what green minded choices they were making each day. Back then they just did things because they made sense. They didn’t read about energy savings techniques and certainly didn’t show it off. It was just the way it was.  Here I am many years later trying to carve out my own reality. I’m trying to understand the impact that I have on people around me and on my land.  I’m thankful for what small connection I had to food in our small backyard. Very thankful too for the celebration surrounding the efforts of the plants on our behalf. I pause again to figure out how I got into farming.

In 9th grade, I completed a standardized list of questions that was to select the top three professions in which I would fit best based on my skills, abilities, interests and placements on other standardized tests. This was the year that we needed to begin to decide our career path for high school placement. The kids beside me laughed at my test results. Those friends closest to me nodded in approval as if they knew it was fitting and encouraged me to brush off the taunting from the others. When I read it myself, I smiled big.  Of the three professions that were recommended to me, the first was farming. I can recall the dinner conversation that night and telling my parents how I was going to be a farmer. My mother smiled. She can be somewhat cautious and knowing me now I can only imagine how I was as a child. I’m sure she figured something would fancy me more the next day and I would move on. My father on the other hand always wore his heart on his sleeve. Also refraining from endorsing this career path, he was cautious to approve, but his smile said it all. His look was as if he knew I would make it happen and he was happy about it. He and my mother exchanged a glance and for me the deal was sealed.

Later that year my father died. I was 13.  When you lose a parent at 13, your brain can’t quite handle the pain and the best thing you know how to do is to pick up and move on. Thinking back to the dinner conversation where I married the idea of farming, I needed to solidify this plan now as it was all I had at that moment. I can recall quite exactly meeting with the guidance counselor about how to go into farming and what courses in high school and college I would need to take to make this happen. She didn’t quite know what to say or do and encouraged me lightly to consider other options. I insisted. I would head into Horticulture as a major in college. I never looked back.

Speed ahead 20 years. Here I am sitting on 11 acres of desirable property. Two barns grace our presence and myriad outbuildings taunt us with special space for special events and things.  I am surrounded by animals, plants and a zillion living things that fascinate me daily. I have a B.S. in Horticulture in my back pocket and an amazing short history of great jobs that gave me the confidence to burst into this lifestyle.

I think back to that tomato that my Dad grew and try to figure out how it has framed my current choices. I celebrate the peaches as they come. I encourage the goats as they grow. I love the dogs as they play. I cut the flowers as they blossom. I learn to vegetable garden as the seasons progress each year – getting one more thing right each time. I share food experiences with close friends as they do with me.

Many of  my peers in college and in our farming circles grew up on farms or in greenhouses. Even my husband, who grew up in suburban Massachusetts, spent his summers  on a family farm. As a child on the farm, you learn so many important life lessons so quickly. As an adult, they come a bit slower, but they come if you invite them and if your fears can be set aside momentarily to allow the world to introduce itself to you. I was a bit behind everyone and had to catch up.  I have had to learn the slower way, but it has come to me and it feels so good.

Lately, all around me, people are talking about planting vegetable gardens and saving a dime here or there with some frugal method. I have regular conversations with close friends about canning and what is soon to be harvested. We talk about the weather and how it affects us. Friends and I get together monthly to learn how to make cheese and bread and yogurt. We try new foods, we learn new techniques, we are reconnecting our generation to the land. We are a small but growing contingent and it is exciting to see the excitement about growing food spread like wildfire. At a recent event at my house, there was ample and fun discussion in the kitchen. I briefly mentioned the word tomatillo and was escorting a guest to the back porch to show her my plants and before I knew it half of the guests were behind me and examining this plant. What a moment – the tomatillo topped all conversation and became the “it” thing for 5 minutes.

We as humans began as dust and will return to dust. In our travels and our lives, the more we resist the earth and its messages the worse things seem to get. For my short time here, I am so happy to be surrounded by like minded people. I am happy to learn from them and to teach things to them in exchange. I am happy to understand where food comes from and not be afraid of it and I am so happy to be a part of it through raising livestock and growing perennials.  Sometimes I feel like I’m part of some secret society in my dirty pants and holey T-shirt and then I remember that all of us have come from farmers at some point in time and I’m just catching up about nothing really secret at all.

I am happy to think about my fathers tomato and know that I too will celebrate it as he did. Perhaps I will celebrate it so much that someone will remember that and get back to the land and feed themselves. I am happy for that. I like teaching a man to fish.

My dad’s tomato made me want to be a horticulturist and a farmer and here I am.
That’s my long and fruitful story.

raw milk is changing my life

I am too often too quick to criticize my husband. He is messy, a bit chaotic, rather disorganized, perpetually late and always in a rush because he is trying to do too much. Despite the consistency of his quirks, sometimes I am still surprised by them. Most days however, I am predictably irritated. Unfortunately, I am too seldomly unappreciative of those qualities – too numerous to mention – that are most endearing about him and that have certainly forwarded our lives in certain ways for which I am so thankful. The amount of energy I seem to expend reacting to those traits in him that are less desirable far outweighs the actual flaws about which I am complaining. In effect, I am creating a worse environment for us through my reactions than if I would choose not to react at all and just accept certain things for the way they are.

During a visit to our friends farm this evening, I was again reminded of my need to look past the flaws and spend more time appreciating the good of him that far outweighs the bad. His most amazing gift by far is his amazing way of breaking down barriers between people and cultures. He has a gift of speaking simply while teasing out complex situations that might otherwise be ignored for those less strong in the spine that are happy to avoid potential conflicts. The relationships and information that he can achieve in such a short time frame is rather astounding. He is constantly learning and seeking information while teaching as he gathers what he is looking for. When you know what you are looking for, it is very fun to watch him in action. His style and method of seeking information is very unassuming. He asks questions in ways that expose his vulnerability and showcase his intellect at the same time all in a way that leave judgments behind and people thankful for the discussion.

One of my brothers often jokes about him and how he can strike up a conversation with anyone. This trait can often be bothersome when we are on a tight time line trying to get from point A to point B and he engrosses himself in a 2 hour conversation with a stranger about the price of corn. I often joke that half of our time together over the past 9 years has been spent in parking lots and random places – if you can picture this: he is totally involved in a conversation and there I am (with my short attention span) fidgeting and wishing we were elsewhere. It is a pretty common occurrence.

Those that know me well know that I often imagine tragedies (likely a result of seeing too many too young) when I am too wrapped up in negative thinking. Recently, I imagined Jay dying (which was precipitated by me trying to reach him for hours by phone with no luck – sure that he crashed the truck and trailer on a mountaintop somewhere delivering goats). When my mind jumped through the the events after his death I imagined the wake and the funeral and the days after. In a strange way, I was comforted knowing that those days and my life would be filled with good people helping me through that time simply because he has helped so many people through things and devoted so much of himself to their causes that they would be there to honor that in him. Not a great way to spend your day, but eye opening nonetheless. Suddenly, I thought, maybe his methods shouldn’t be so maddening to me. There is a rhyme to his lifestyle that does not always appear to be balanced but provides balance in unexpected ways.

I wanted to continue this post by writing about our evening with our Amish friends. But, I don’t know that I can wade through my thoughts just yet or articulate quite what I am thinking. What I know is that my husband has a gift with people. I like to think that I do too, but our gifts are different. Tonight his gift reminded me of how rich our lives are, despite our many troubles.

Perhaps if I had spent less time fidgeting in parking lots, I might have come to this conclusion many years ago and saved a lot of grief.

Convinced

Reading back over my blog, I realize this is not the first time I’ve posted about this and it’s got me chuckling. I’m finally convinced, just in the past day or two, that spring is here. The leaves dropping puts me into a depression beyond words. Winter, though lovely, can get a bit long around here. Then April rolls around and one is left not quite sure if it will ever end. Then we got a rain like we did two days ago and FLASH it’s spring. The world is green, EVERYTHING is blooming at once – which is a bit unusual. But I’m convinced. I’m convinced that it’s spring, that the world will continue and that I don’t have to worry about looking at empty trees for several more months. It’s almost like winter comes and I press a pause button and now I can press play again.  Go forth – it’s spring!

If April is cruel, then what is February!?

Wow, how the time has passed.

Fall is behind us, winter is with us and spring is ahead of us. I find myself not knowing quite what happened to the time. I’m looking out my window today and I’m seeing only white. There is snow everywhere, the temperatures are quite low and the wind is howling. As much as I love PA and getting the full pleasure of all four seasons, there are days like today when I can’t help but be a bit impatient for the next turn of days. I get such pleasure out of the changing of the seasons: the photoshopped look of lush spring, the vibrant colors of the summer perennials, the duller long days of late summer, the intensity of the fall leaf colors and the crispness of snow, cold and ice. As much as I’d like to speed ahead today and turn the world green, the world I live in needs all of these seasons to survive as it was intended to be. Our goats, though shivering at times on days like this, need the cold temperatures to keep parasites and other critters at bay. Our plants, though frozen solid, need this dormancy to bloom this year. And we, complete with dry skin and chapped hands, need this time to rest and get ready for busy months of back breaking work ahead of us.

Even though it slows, the world certainly doesn’t stop on a farm just because its winter. January 25th marked the last day of our 3rd kidding season. We’ve been sleeping peacefully ALL THROUGH THE NIGHT since that day and what a joy that is. Last year at this time we were dealing with hypothermic and dead goats not quite knowing what hit us – our losses reached almost 50%. This year, we were prepared  and that readiness helped us through our most successful kidding season yet. Our mothers did a great job and though we did experience some loss, they were few and expected.  It is such a pleasure and reward to go to the barn and see the kids dancing and prancing and jumping.  The inspiration of new life is all around us and helping us through these harsher days as the winter progresses and nears its end.

So as I think about the green of spring and the color of summer, I’m inspired to get things organized and together so that I can be out there enjoying it when it comes. I need to take natures signals for what they are and enjoy this rest while it is before me.

peaches

For the first time in the three years we have lived in our home, the peaches survived and provided a wonderful harvest. Though we got to them a little later than ideal, we were still able to process 28 mason jars of peach preserves. Seeing peaches peeled, pitted and sliced in a big bowl makes it hard to tell how much you really have to work with until you start filling the jars. In hind sight we would have split the bounty to make some peach butter too. Either way – we’ll be enjoying these wonderful peaches for some time! yay us!

I have a conscience for sale…going once…going twice…

Jay always says that I have a romantic view of farming that is not always aligned with the realities of life on a farm. I was at first offended by this but over time have realized that in some ways it is true. However, I believe that my view of farming, however romantic and idyllic it may be, is a good place for me to be. I’d rather that than to become an android that might accept a job at…say…a livestock auction house and get paid for whatever my boss tells me to do whether I believe in it or not. I’m someone that believes in people and believes in a mission. I have passions and I like to entertain them and see them through to the end. I find great disappointment with people in my life even just in passing that seem to not care to have a mission.

So, there is a livestock auction house in our state. In December Jay and I sold two goats there. These goats were left over from the spring breeding and the only two that hadn’t been sold for some other purpose (4H project, pet, meat, breeding stock). We had heard that this auction was the biggest goat auction in the country. Being a relatively decent day trip from our home and really new goat breeders, we decided to head down and check it out. Everyone that we had met up until this point that was in any way related to goats had at one point or another visited the auction and used them for their services to sell goats. Our myriad contacts had given us directions, information, and lots of disclaimers about the auction. One of the disclaimers included the warning that when the goats were actually going to be sold, we shouldn’t attend the auction.

So we headed to the auction with two beautiful goats in tow. It was a good day, a nice time to be together, good conversation, and we got to see a new place. Having lived in The Netherlands for a year where auction houses (of any type) are clean, ordered, well organized, reputable and effective cooperative selling points, we found ourselves immediately disappointed with the state of this place once we arrived. It was dirty, unwelcoming and disorganized. After much searching, we found a staff member who was less than helpful. He eventually loaded our goats into a stall. We walked around the place to check it out and were just appalled at the conditions of the animals and the set up of the system. I immediately started to say to Jay that we should load up the animals and go home because we’d seen enough. We both decided after a lengthy conversation that we would leave them there but we were going to head home right away. As we tried to get out, we encountered a few men unloading a trailer filled with sheep. Watching them unload the animals made me feel embarrassed to be a human. They were kicking the animals, cursing at them (what good does that do?), laughing, shocking them with tasers, and generally being extremely disrespectful to the animals, to each other as well as to us as observers. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I turned immediately and headed for the truck. We visited our goats one last time before we left and tried to give them water and food that we had brought with us. It was at this point that I realized that there wasn’t a water bucket or feed trough in sight – despite the fact that I was in a room of several hundred animals, maybe even thousands. Can someone explain that to me? Livestock rule #1 – constant supply of fresh water.

I’m not sure what prevented us from turning around and reclaiming our beautiful well cared for goats. But for whatever reason, we didn’t. Our conversations on the way home were filled with our disgust and disappointment of the buildings, the staff, the set up and treatment of animals. When we left the goats at the building they were horrified. You could just see it in their eyes. They were panicked, unhappy in their new environment, sensing the air of death and mistreatment all around them and I know this is anthropomorphism (is that the right word?) but they looked disappointed that we would do this to them. They really really did. In a lot of ways, I realize I’m projecting because as we walked away I was disappointed in myself for leaving them there. In stalls to their right and left were hundreds of goats covered in crap, ribs protruding, eyes pink and filled with mucous, some had open and bleeding wounds and gashes from fights with others that had horns, goats that were visibly ill and not sale worthy for any purpose and others in terrible conditions beyond what I’d like to describe here. We couldn’t really tell how long the other goats had been there, but they looked awful. I thought to myself that it must be a moment of shame for a breeder to visit their goats there. How could they not feel shame for the animal they produced and then left for sale in this terrible place? Or worse yet, did they not visit the barns or stick around to see the horrid conditions of the place where they were selling the animals and they had no idea!?!?

Jay ended up going to the auction a few days later when the goats were actually being sold. He saw things he wouldn’t even share with me. What he did share with me horrified me. He spoke of goats that were just born being sold. These kids were still wet, had never taken a step yet and hadn’t had a drink from their mothers yet either. These poor kids were followed by their moms who still had retained placentas and were crying for their kids. He also talked about goats that had visibly broken limbs and in some cases bones had exited the skin.

At some point throughout this time period I cried. I felt embarrassed that I was crying for my goats, but at the same time embarrassed that I had left them there. The emotions I experienced and later realized that Jay was experiencing too were beyond what I had ever felt before. There was little reconciliation for me for all this time. I clearly understand that animal production includes a number of animals that are unwanted for some reason or another just like factories that make plastic widgets produce plastic widgets that get thrown away. I know this is a reality and that auction houses exist for a reason. What I have come to believe over the last few months is that this reality needn’t be treated the way that it is. It is not necessary for this auction house to function like they do.

So – all this time we’ve been asking ourselves…for what did we sell the goats? We got a measly $120 and a burden on our consciences that had stuck with us for all this time. As time passed, I realized that we had experienced this awful situation for a reason. The reason is so that we could move forward in a more informed way and act and live more responsibly as goat breeders. Had we not seen what we saw – we would have never known and perhaps used the auction house as a means to sell extra goats. But because we now know what we know, we can share the information like I am now by writing this and we can make better choices.

So last week, many months after the auction took place, we had a visitor at our farm that was inquiring about raising goats. He had been referred to us by several people and came looking for advice, stories, other references and possibly a source for goats. We had a really nice discussion with him. Towards the end of the discussion he asked us if we send out goats to the auction when they are at the right age and weight. Almost in unison we said NO! At that moment, we shared a glance of recognition and approval and suddenly felt very confident in ourselves. He seemed shocked at our answer and questioned us as to why we wouldn’t sell at auctions. We tactfully shared our story with him and said that we didn’t wish to give this place any business ever again. We vowed to seek every other possible avenue for sale before going there again. He nodded his head in approval. I felt really good about that moment. It was one of those moments when I knew I married the right person – we were so in line with each other without any doubt about something that is very important to us. And it was also one of those moments when I felt good about sharing what experience and information I had that may help someone down the road.

As of right now, we’ve taken no action to complain about the auction house, but have been checking with other farmers and breeders about auctions and their thoughts. The bottom line is that everyone sees it as a necessary evil. I hope for ourselves that we can be people of change and drive the industry to make more responsible decisions and choices about such necessities. I’d hate to accept it as a necessary evil and feel satisfied with that answer. I’m not there yet and hope that I never will be!

Moral of the story: be educated about your choices, no matter what they are!

oh the husbandry of it all

Since December 12th, starting with the birth of Georgia’s kid boys, our lives have been full of non-stop goat issues. Our first kidding season last year went really really well. This year? Not so good. Since December 12th we have experienced the birth and death of more kids and goats than I can count. The first death was depressing, then the second, then the third…it got to a point where we lost count of both events and since then, we are one of those farms when you ask how many goats you have we say “um….I can’t remember – probably about 50?”. It’s a funny thing. Again – better farmers keep better records all around and might have handled the past three months better than we did. But we handled it and now that we are close to the end of it, I can say that I’m happy about that. We handled it.

Things that I have learned:

1. The baby monitor or closed video surveillance system that all the books recommend are really worth it! We don’t have either and that has to change. 2am trips to the barn, though part of the farming package, are not fun – especially when you have to get up for work the next day.

2. Goats should not be alone for extended periods. When I say this, I don’t mean alone from humans…I mean alone from each other. They are too social an animal to be cooped up in a pen. Though we don’t run an intensive system, they get penned close to their kidding dates and stay there until at least three days after they kid to bond with their kids. If this time period lasts any longer than necessary, the goats go nuts!

3. When it’s less than 10 degrees outside, get the kid dried and get it on the teat. If those two items are not satisfied, take the kid inside. We lost too many kids to hypothermia this year to justify the mistake. We are beginners, but it was a dumb mistake in hindsight to have assumed the kids were OK.

4. Don’t leave the heat lamps on overnight. It’s not worth it. If you do, get up every hour and start praying as you put your boots on that your barn isn’t burned down when you go outside. Though our barn is still standing, the stress of worrying about the lamps was not worth it.

5. Get water pipes drilled to your barn so that you don’t have to walk far with the water. And while you’re at it, get hot running water in your barn! A luxury? Probably. A safe bet. You betcha.

6. In rutting season, make sure you have 14,000 pound boulders shoring up your gates and doors so that the bucks can’t get through and hump the ladies without you knowing. Every single goat issue that we had this year was directly tied to the fact that we did not know the breeding dates. Period.

So, we have 12 goats that had kids. And man, we got some fine kids from this batch. We have one more goat that has yet to kid. This has been going on since December 12th. Every day is a big question. When Don-kay has her kids, I am having a party of some sort and letting loose. I need to move on from kidding season!

When we got into raising goats, we heard two camps on the kidding season issue. 1st camp was all about the cuteness of the kids and how fun they are and how wonderful it is to have the kids around and how beautiful…and how special..blah blah blah.. We agreed wholeheartedly the first year. 2nd camp hears the first camp and says they’re nuts. That kidding season is stressful and worrisome and most can’t wait for it to be over.

We joined Camp 2 this year. It’s a shame, but I guess it’s the reality of animal husbandry. There are issues and the issues need to be solved or animals die. Moving forward now!