We Figure it out as We Go

The first Mini Nubian does that came to live at Heritage Springs were in milk when we got them. If you aren’t familiar with that term, it means these goats had babies and were producing milk. Primrose and Silver Leaf (Silvie) arrived on a warm spring afternoon at about 3pm. Neil and I had never milked an animal before in our lives, and Neil was a little concerned. These goats had to be milked that evening, and we had zero experience. I told him not to worry and that we would figure it out as we go.

We had prepared for the arrival of our Mini Nubians by reading Raising Goats Naturally by Deborah Niemann, watching several youtube videos on how to milk goats, and setting up a milking area outside the tack room in the barn. The milking area included a stanchion with a head gate, a small bucket for goat treats like alfalfa and beet pulp, and a milking stool. We were ready…we thought.

Primrose (left) and Silvie (right) the first two Miniature Nubian does at Heritage Springs

Primrose was up first. Neil lured her onto the stanchion with the treat bucket, got her head through the head gate, and sat down on the milking stool. He reached out and gently took a teat in each hand. Did you know goats can scream? Primrose stuck her tongue out and screamed on top of her lungs. Then she threw herself off the stanchion and hung there by the head gate while we scrambled to keep her from strangling herself. We looked at each other. This is not how we thought this would go.

We heaved Primrose up and got her situated back on the stanchion. I gave her some words of encouragement, and Neil tried again. This time, from her depths came a loud long “mooooooooo!” She flopped down onto his hands like a defiant toddler. Neil tried to stand her up, but she refused to budge. She simply would not put her feet under her body. My poor husband looked defeated and frankly, very sweaty. I suggested we give Primrose a break and try to milk Silvie.

Silvie hopped up onto the stanchion, stuck her head through the gate and started munching happily on beet pulp. This was a good sign. Neil cautiously reached out to touch her, but as soon as he made contact, she let her legs go out from under her and fell to the table. He lifted her up, and I wrapped my arms around her to try to keep her standing. He tried again and she immediately fell down again. I told her she was overreacting. I told her that people had been milking goats for thousands of years and that this was perfectly normal. I told her that it wasn’t going to hurt and that she was being a baby. None of this helped.

I took out my phone and texted the lady I bought these floppy eared demons from. “Have these goats ever been milked before?” “Is there a trick to milking them?” “Help!!!” Silence.

I looked over at Neil and could see that he was done. I was done. Silvie and Primrose were done. I said, “Maybe they’re just a little stressed from the drive. Let’s let them relax and try again in the morning.” He agreed and I spent the rest of the evening doing research on milking ornery goats and wondering if I had ruined our lives.

The next morning, we were out in the barn at 4:30am. We were determined to get these goats milked and this time, thanks to my intensive research session, we had hoof cuffs. It turns out that a lot of people hobble their goats when they milk. I had somehow missed this vital piece of information during my initial research phase.

I honestly don’t remember many details of that morning. I know we got about a quart of milk from each goat, and I know it wasn’t easy. It took us about an hour and a half of struggling to make it happen, but I put it in the W column. It would only get easier from here…right?

Over the next couple days Silvie straightened up and let Neil milk her. The hobbles were transformative. Once she learned that he was not going to stop milking her if she threw a fit, she stopped throwing fits. Magic. I think she even started to enjoy her time on the stanchion with her special treats.

Primrose was a different story. I changed her name to Nightmare, and in addition to the hobbles, we hung ratchet straps from the rafters of the barn to secure under her belly. With the hobbles on her ankles she couldn’t really kick, and with the ratchet straps holding her up, she couldn’t throw herself off the stanchion or flop down onto the table. She could still scream though, and she did a lot of it. It was unnerving. I told Neil that if we couldn’t figure this out in the next week we were going to give up and dry her off. It wasn’t worth torturing this poor goat or us to get some milk.

Nightmare on the Milking Stand

For the first time since starting our little farm I felt overwhelmed. I felt guilty for bringing all this stress into our lives. I felt bad for Nightmare, and I felt bad for us.

I walked out to the barn that evening and told Neil that I was going to milk Nightmare. He looked doubtful and asked if maybe I wanted to learn to milk Silvie first. I said I wanted to milk Nightmare. We got her up on the stanchion, I sat down on the stool, took a teat in each hand, and started to milk. I braced myself for the screams, but she calmly stood there and gave us a full quart of milk in 10 minutes. She didn’t scream or cry or throw any tantrums. In the days that followed she stood patiently while I milked her each morning and evening. She even let my daughters milk her. It turns out Primrose just prefers to be milked by females. Maybe she’s shy. Maybe she likes small hands. Maybe she’s really into feminism. I don’t know. What I do know is that she went from Primrose to Nightmare and back to Primrose, and finally to Primmie. She became my favorite goat and I absolutely adore her.

Primmie with her sweet little smile

When people see our little farm, one of the first things they ask is if I grew up on a farm. I tell them no. Then they say, “Then Neil grew up farming?” I say not really, and I tell them his dad had sheep for a little while when he was young. Then they ask, “well, how did you learn how to do all of this?”. I say we mostly figure it out as we go. They usually look doubtful, but it is the truth. Before we start something new, of course we do research and talk to people, but only so much can be learned that way.  At the end of the day, with patience, and by the grace of God, we figure it out as we go.