Having help on the farm is truly a blessing, and today was an exceptionally good day for it. This afternoon when a very young farmer-in-training named Cooper did a stint of work at P&CW Farm, he more than earned his keep. First he went out with our Operations Manager to provide hay to the horses and alpacas, and those goats that are penned up. After that brief introduction he was ready to go to work with me when milking time arrived.
Upon exiting the house we recited "Little Miss Muffet" and carried the pail of whey leftover from this morning's cheese making out to the dogs. Cooper appeared interested that both curds and whey are byproducts of milk, then allowed me to carry the pail uphill because it was heavy for his six-year-old arms. Although a tad miffed that I did not allow him to feed the big, bouncing dogs, he quickly recovered. He took over scattering the scratch grain and managed feeding all of the chickens and our two geese. At about that time I noticed the rumpus the goats Mitzi and Walter were kicking up--on the wrong side of the fence--where they were browsing with Theresa and making noise about it.
Cooper quickly exchanged his poultry-manager persona for a goat wrangler gig. We grabbed up a few lengths of baling twine, hopped the fence (he helpfully jumped when I moved to lift him over), and trundled uphill to meet the escapees. Walter trotted out to greet us first, allowed a twine to be fitted over his collar, then submitted to Cooper's skillful goat management skills. Next Mitzi was caught, tethered, and turned over to Cooper's care. When I moved to capture Theresa (who made quite sure that I never did), Walter and Mitzi took off uphill with a force that surprised our young wrangler. He dropped their lines with a yelp, but recovered nicely, with time enough to recoup Walter's stringed leash while Mitzi and Theresa trotted ahead up the hill.
As we reached the tree line, Cooper discovered that goat wrangling can be difficult work. He had to climb through a barb wire fence, encourage Walter to walk with him between the woven fence and the overgrown bushes, and trudge through brambles with his bare legs. We both survived the ordeal well enough, and Cooper quickly took over the gate keeper duties as we all returned to the farm.
Once we were through the gate, the "puppy" Biscuit (who was one year old this June) came to greet us, sniffing Cooper thoroughly and looking him in the eye. Cooper was not put off by this nose-to-nose conversation with a hungry dog, and lead Walter quite competently to "goat jail" where wandering goats become incarcerated until either I fix the fence or forget that they are not allowed to roam free in that area.
Then we fed Biscuit, dove through the mass of hungry goats lined along the fence across which they had witnessed Biscuit being fed, and trekked back up to the milking stand onto which Marcie hopped without hesitation. First the cats got their nightly dish of milk, which was filled with Cooper's help. His little hands aren't quite ready to accomplish the entire milking chore on teats as large as Marcie's, so we teamed up. I blocked off the flow of milk in the teat and Cooper squeezed the milk trapped in the lower portion of the teat into the dish--or at least mostly into the dish. Aiming the milk takes a bit of practice, too.
When I took over and began milking both teats together, Cooper wanted to try that too. I said something about not thinking he would be able to do it and his expression spoke volumes about silly (read "stupid") adults who underestimate wildly-talented kids. I laughed and spoke this aloud, whereupon he reached out and began competently milking both teats simultaneously. He worked until his hands got tired, then he wandered off to race around the barnyard with goats while Marcie and I finished our chores.
When we brought the milk down, Cooper again volunteered to manage the gate--and did so with a surprisingly good understanding of the various factors involved. He managed opening it to get us through without letting any of the goats galloping behind us through, and discouraging Biscuit from following us, too. I was thoroughly impressed by young Cooper's many talents and told him that I would be glad to have him work with me on the farm again anytime. Luckily for me, he expressed interest in returning, too.
Inside the house, plied with sweet potato muffins spread with apple butter, Cooper ordered up a glass of milk. With his parents' blessing, he received a mug of still-warm, just-strained goat's milk. I was surprised to see him gulp down a big swallow at first. But then he stopped and held out the mug saying, "Can you make it taste the way it's supposed to taste?" which garnered a hearty laugh from the adults present.
Once the milk had been chilled with ice cubes, Cooper pronounced it drinkable and finished the lot readily.
Thank you, Cooper, for your hard work this evening. We thoroughly enjoyed having you and your family visit our farm. (If you get to taste the lasagna we sent home with your parents, you might like to know that its made with the ricotta cheese manufactured from Marcie's milk.)
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