A Never-Ending Cycle

This is an old story from April of this year. It still makes me laugh, which I really need right now, considering we have just switched to once-a-day milking, because the 'girls' are drying up, in preparation for the soon-to-begin kidding season.


                                "A Never-Ending Cycle"
         (originally posted on FanStory.com in April 2009)

Anyone who is familiar with my life story by now knows I milk dairy goats for a living. At times it seems to be all I ever do, taking four hours twice a day just to milk from start to finish. Then there are babies to feed, weaned babies and dry goats (goats who haven't given birth yet) to feed hay, grain and water, goats to bed up with dry cornstalks, new babies to bring in and vaccinate -- it's a never ending cycle.




Last night, still recovering from a flu bug going around this area, my feet were dragging. My son, Sam, started milking but he had to leave to go to his girlfriend's high school play. My other son, Joel, was also in the play, and my husband, Paul, left on a service call for his electrical business.



By the time Paul got home, I'd been milking alone for almost three hours. He told me later he was surprised how many goats were left in the holding pen waiting to be milked, but thought it was understandable considering I'd been feeling under the weather.



We milked a little longer, and noticed some of the goats had very little milk. We were both concerned. There is a virus that can run through a herd, causing almost instant fall in production and our neighbor told us his herd was having problems.



"We'd better call 'Connell' (our vet)," Paul said.



"I agree," I said. "This doe here has hardly any milk at all."



Several hours later, I went and chased the last group into the parlor. As my husband finished up, I went into the barn to fill the water tubs by the far edge of the holding pen. To my surprise, the holding area was full of goats!



It was then I saw it. The gate that separates the goats who are already milked from the ones waiting to be milked was not properly chained shut, leaving an eight-inch gap, just big enough for goats to leave the milking parlor, walk back around the corner, and squeeze back into the holding area.



Yes, we'd been milking the same goats twice. For two extra hours. They love coming into the parlor to get the grain we feed while they are standing to be milked, so they were having a wonderful time!



And I sometimes wonder why I never get anything else done.

Snow Flurries and Pregnant Goats

Frost covers the ground now as I walk outside to start chores at five every morning. The weather man speaks of snow flurries soon to be flying here in the midwest. Our goats, being seasonal breeders, are now pregnant, and before long the sound of bleating will fill our old dairy barn, as hundreds of newborn goats enter a cold and wintery world.

The "girls" (our goat does) are a little cantankerous right now, and spend more time picking at each other than eating their grain when they enter the parlor to be milked each morning and night. Their bellies are beginning to show signs of growing new life, and by early January, they will be lumbering around with the weight of two to three kids inside. As busy a time as "kidding season" is for us, I can hardly wait!

Freak Out At Rainbow Gate Farm

The sound of barking dogs jarred against the rhythmic sound of automatic milkers and Chris Tomlin singing Jesus Messiah, just after five thirty this morning as I worked alone in our milking parlor. Peering out the open window, I squinted, trying to see past the dim light exuding from the barn into the tar pit of darkness beyond.

I'd already milked over one hundred goats so the area where they wait was half empty. To my surprise, the does were running, flowing in a mass of brown, white and black around the pen."What on earth is the matter with you?" I asked the frantic goats.

It's still dark each morning at five, when Sparky, our Australian Shepherd trots behind me to the barn to help me herd the does into the holding area where they stand beneath the twinkling stars, chewing their cud and waiting their turn to come in and be milked. I sing along to the radio without reservation and I've never had a goat complain. By the time my husband and boys appear to feed hay and water, the sun is budding over the horizon, and I'm hanging the milker units in the milk house to be washed and sanitized.

Except today, in that pre-dawn emptiness, when fear crept in to keep me company. I hollered at the dogs to hush up, and turned away from the window to change a milking unit to a different goat. At that moment, I heard a sound I will never forget. What the heck was that?In the few seconds it took my grey-matter to complete a google search, my circulatory system iced down. Or, if you prefer the old cliché, my blood ran cold. I remembered where I'd heard that sound before and I knew what it was.

A cougar's scream.I slammed the window down and shut the parlor door. That scream echoed in my ears; a screeching harmony of a cat being strangled mixed with a baby-like wail trailing off at the end. Staring through the glass, I could see the goats, now statues all facing the same direction and staring into the dark pasture beyond the barn. The dogs were no longer barking. I prayed they were still alive. Different scenarios played out in my imagination, each one of them equal to the scariest movie you can imagine. Unless the thought of being torn apart by an over sized cat doesn't bother you at all. It bothers me.

If my muse, Lydia, hadn't interrupted, I might still be standing there. She wasn't fazed, of course. There's something to be said for being a figment of a writer's imagination to make you immune to fear and taxes.

Leaning against the wall, Lydia sighed. "Just milk the goats, will you? I want to get some more work done this morning, and we do have to get to the gym."

"But I have to open the door to let more goats in. What if it attacks?"

"Jani, no self-respecting cougar is going to pass over a hundred delicious goats just to eat you. Trust me. You will see him in time to shut the door."

With visions of a yellow furred and whiskered face appearing in the window at any moment, I followed Lydia's advice. After the first group, I cracked the window just a tad, but not big enough for a cougar to crawl through. When the sun cast its first rays through the clouds, I opened the door, which is positively big enough for a cougar to stroll right through, but by this time, Lydia's confidence was rubbing off.

By seven, all the goats were milked and chores were finished. I'm thrilled to report, the goats, the dogs and I survived unscathed.

Heading inside, I jumped on the computer and typed "Cougars in Iowa" in the search box. Sure enough, after being re-introduced into our state, these majestic predators have been working their way east from the initial repopulating area in the northwest of the state.

Several reliable sightings were recorded one county over from ours, two years ago. Dusk and dawn sightings were most prevalent.

So, about tomorrow morning. Any volunteers?

Milking Dairy Goats

Today is Thursday, November 8, 2007.

The photo above shows my dairy goat "girls" waiting to be milked. The dark brown doe in the forefront is 'Bella', a Nubian two-year-old doe who is a real sweetie.

You can see from the photo that we use a low deck. The does run in and jump on the deck. A manger in front provides them with their favorite food- grain!
We sit on a mechanic's roller chair and along behind the does to change the milkers.

Yesterday we changed our milking schedule from twice daily milking to once a day.





Goats are seasonal breeders, meaning they all breed in the fall and then have their babies (kid-in) in late January to mid March. The does need to be "dried off" or stopped being milked about two months before they kid.





They naturally fall off on milk production at this time of year and their SCC or Somatic Cell Count goes up. The Somatic Cell Count is an indication of how many white blood cells are present in the milk. A high count can be an indication of infection, but at this time of year, it raises naturally as the does give less milk.





I have to go out each morning and feed hay to everyone, including our horses and foals. Then about 2.30pm I will head outside and milk the does that are not already "dried off". This takes about an hour and a half.

This is the quiet time of year. When the "kids" begin to arrive, we will be outside upwards of 12 hours a day!