Milking goats...

My daughter came to visit last weekend. She has been working on cleaning/organizing her old room. Most traces of her are gone... (unless you open the closet, where the things she wants to keep are neatly stored and stacked in plastic bins.) It is odd to look in there... but I digress. That is a topic for another post entirely. While she was home she and I prepared supper (home made taco soup) then it was time for me to milk the goats. She came out with me, so we could chat while I milked. I got the milk station set up, then was planning on showing off. I thought I would call the goats, and my daughter could see how they obediently run to me when I call them. I was prepared to holler out the names of the goats. "Luna! Nova!" I filled my lungs with air, opened the door... and there they were, inches away from me. Two little white faces, 4 intelligent eyes. "It is time. We KNOW already! Let's get to it." I admit to feeling a bit deflated. The goats are milked at 6 AM and 6 PM. They know the time, though they don't wear watches. And they know the order of things. Luna first. Nova does not push or shove, she stands respectfully as Luna and I enter the garage. Luna leaps nimbly up on the milk stand, and puts her head through the stanchion. She dines on alfalfa pellets (high in protein and calcium) and dairy pellets.Sometimes I add slivered carrots or raisins or other treats. Luna stands very still while I wash her udder, and milk a quart of rich milk from her teats. When her udder is empty I release her, give her a lot of pats, then watch as she nimbly turns and exits the building. Next, Nova shoulders in, hops up on the stand and the procedure is repeated. I thank them for the milk, fill their hay feeder, and go about my day. But this interlude with the goats? It is a bit of magic. My sister recently reminded me that I loved the movie Heidi when I was a child. She told me that I was particularly fond of the parts of the movie that involved goats. This fascinates me. Please Note: This photo shows me milking into a not-so-clean rubber bucket. This milk is destined to be be fed to the pigs. When I milk for humans I use an immaculate seamless stainless steel bucket and a cleaner technique. The pigs just don't care.