Milk: It Does a Body Good

Two kids from the same litter savor sweet grain. MollyMoo, kid #2 (rear), has grown into a heifer; Kendall, kid #3 (foreground), is healthy but much smaller after having had to fight for meals.

We have missed having fresh milk in the house. Once the Nigerian Dwarf kid Kendall caught on that she could get meals on demand by just showing up at the milking stand, the milk supply in our refrigerator dwindled away. She'd wriggle through fences and come bawling when she saw me outside the barn around feeding time. That tiny kid could nurse her Auntie Thumbelina dry and still take on Milk-Jugs Marcie. Indeed, after countless days of being unable to sneak Marcie to the stand without Kendall's butting in, I had begun to despair of ever having fresh milk in the house again.

It may need to be said that this late in the season, Marcie is not producing any gallon a day. But even a pint of fresh milk every other day was enough to keep us stocked with enough milk for coffee and cooking. After Kendall latched onto the miracle of Marcie's milk, though, we were feeling the pinch. Now, I do enjoy black coffee; however, I appreciate the luxury of strong coffee cut to a sweet, creamy dessert-type beverage on occasion.

Then finally Kendall began to fill out. Not just after meals, when she would seemingly have drunk her body weight in milk once or twice a day, but between meals, too. When the weight stayed on and the littlest goat had trouble wriggling out through the cattle panel beside the barn, my hopes for sweet, creamy morning coffee rose with each milking event, only to be hampered by other circumstances. Both barn cats and whatever big dogs were handy showing up to beg at milking time certainly puts a crimp on our milk supply. (And the cats were getting good servings because they'd been neglected after Kendall started popping onto the milking stand before I could siphon off a taste for our hard-working felines.) Also, I had gotten out of the habit of bringing a clean pail to the barn, and it was easier to treat the beggars than to hike back down the hill and slip into the house.

Two hard-working doggies have no reason to cry over spilled milk. In snow, it's instant ice cream!

When I did bring a pail, circumstances conspired against me. Twice I hung the milk-filled pail on the corner of the milking stand--out of reach of dogs and cats so that I could finish my chores--only to have greedy goats seeking more grain tip the bucket from its perch. Then came a day when I put Marcie onto the stand without clearing off the inch-or-so of new snow. Need I say more? My attention got diverted, the pail turned over, and I found myself calling the Livestock Guardians to attend to the cleanup. They abandoned their dinner bowls and raced to the scene, eager to do their part.

I was so disappointed that day. We'd been out of milk in the house for too long, and I had had my heart set on sweet coffee for days. Since that day, about a week ago, I've taken more care. Finally, we have a ready supply of milk again, and I get to enjoy dessert-for-breakfast as I wish. Life is decidedly good.