Milking Platform
My friend George Probst came over a couple of days ago to show me how to milk a goat, which is a good thing, because I haven't even milked a goldfish let alone a cow before. George grew up on a farm in Germany and after moving to Canada, he and his wife Margaret had some goats, so it was good to get some first hand advice and see first hand how a goat is milked. Freya, a first time mommy goat was a bit of a problem getting her to allow the baby goat to suck on her teats, so in that regard, I was expecting she would be equally obstinate about allowing us to milk her - I mean we're hardly related, although at times, I've been called a stubborn old goat. The big trick to getting a goat to do anything and I mean just about anything at all, is to make sure they have something to eat; it appears the most important thing to a goat is eating. However, that being said, goats just don't eat everything; they're actually quite particular and even turn up their noses at some of the goodies I thought they would really take a delight in devouring. So, while she was munching down on some goodies we had saved, especially for her first special milking session, George quickly began trimming her hooves before beginning to milk her. She made an expected fuss and unfortunately, when George began demonstrating how to milk Freya, she had pretty much devoured everything. Although the milking platform I built especially for Freya was a success, she still struggled to squeeze her head out of the narrow opening that kept her in place. So, to make the milking easier, I held one of her back legs up in the air as George gently squeezed her teats and sprayed the milk into a pail. However, since very little milk was left to be squeezed out of her bag, since her little guy has been regularly sucking away on her teats, it only took George a short time to milk her dry.
Last night, when Sarah and I went out to milk the goat, Jessica and Rachel followed along at our heels with a camera to document the occasion. The goodies in her feed bucket must have been delicious because she never so much as made any fuss, never even so much as lifted one of her back legs; Sarah just happily milked her until her bag was drained. Mind you, there wasn't much milk to be had but I believe even if the little guy was no longer in the picture, Sarah wouldn't have had a problem with Freya; I was amazed at how good she behaved after the first experience with George and I. I'm guessing we must have set her straight; right from the beginning (wink, wink).
I should mention before writing anything further that Freya's little buck was named Simba by Jessica; I think the name comes from the animated film, The Lion King. Unfortunately Simba is hardly a lion; he's more apt to be lion bait for some great white hunter. Since I don't look at him as if he were a pet for obvious reasons; he's hardly a member of the family; I prefer to call him Shiskabob.
Freya and Shishkabob; First Time Outside
Yesterday afternoon, while the sun was shining brightly, the icicles were dripping happily and the temperature outside was warmly agreeable, I let Freya and the her little guy go outside. At first Shiskabob appeared to be blinded by the light but then seeing Freya munching on some hay, which was lying on top of the snow, he soon joined her. I was sort of expecting him to start cavorting through the snow, leaping into the air and doing pirouettes but no, he just simply stood near Freya and strangely enough, wasn't even scared or overly impressed with Luki, our Great Pyrenees dog, when like all dogs it seems, just had to take a big sniff of Shiskabob's bum.
So here in the land of two goats, fifty-two chickens, one dog and a cat and oh yes, mustn't forget, I just bought a 55 gallon aquarium from a friend of mine containing 11 tropical fish; the kids now wondering when I'm going to buy a monkey; everything is fine. Hmm, a monkey says I; aye a monkey; now why didn't I think of that when I was living on my sail boat. Oh yeah, I did, but I thought cutting off my leg and strapping a wooden peg to the stub would have been going a touch far, not to mention intensely painful. Hopefully, this weekend coming up, the baby-barn I bought will be skidded into the yard and I can dream of all the work that needs doing until it's a viable studio; did I say dream? No, not dream; begin working on it; I'll be able to start on the interior pretty much right away even though heat will not be existent; only my own body heat as I saw up boards, pound nails, begin wiring and a variety of other chores that will need tending to keep me warm.
Looks like the day is turning into a good one; not going to do much physical labour; well maybe not until later this afternoon with Sarah (dirty-old-man wink, wink). Cheers, eh!
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