So we were up a dog and 5 chickens now. "Maybe quit while I'm ahead," you say,? You obviously don't know who you're talking to. I never realized how calming it is to watch these animals "do life". There is something mesmerizing about barnyard animals. I mean, we know it as children, but I think somehow we lose that "magic" along the way. That is until it's in your own backyard, and then you can't help but watch, study, like a reality TV show that also provides you with food.
Food. I suddenly flash-forwarded to gathering eggs early in the morning with my son. Taking them fresh from the coop into the kitchen and making yummy egg and cheese omelets with him. 'Mmmm cheeeeeese". Sure wish you could grow that! And like my ADD mind tends to roam, I jumped to the days when I used to serve as "Maitre di fromage" (fancy french speak for "wine and cheese" expert) at a swanky resort in Orlando. I fell in love with cheese for the obvious reasons of course, but I think one of my favorite parts of the job was getting to hear all the "small" and "boutique" farm stories from around the globe as to how, why, and with "whom" they had cultivated their hand-crafted artisanal cheeses. Some of the stories were better than the cheeses themselves. I remembered one story in particular. A farm in Utah that herded "pygmy" goats and milked them for cheese making. And due to their size, it took quite a few to make that cheese. I had always envisioned minuscule bearded leaping goats frolicking through vast fields of flowers and wheat taller than they were and every so often you would catch a glimpse of one as it bounded just above where the grass met the horizon. I quite enjoyed that cheese.
This memory then gave birth to a thought. And if you know me, once I have a thought, it's game over. I run like the wind with that puppy never looking back. I picked up my phone and googled pygmy goats. I began reading up about their demeanor, needs, milking habits etc. This then lead me to craigslist (naturally). Just to see what, if anything was out there. I began typing, G-O-A... before I had finished the word, sweet and intuitive little craigslist suggested "Nigerian Dwarf Goat". I starred blankly at the screen for a second, and then said, "sure? Why not?". And, just like that, in the 1/2 second it took for the click to produce an image, life changed.
First thoughts were I'll admit, pretty girly, "they're SOOOOOOO cute!" I said (and yes with the obligatory raise in pitch as to emphasize the word cute). I immediately began looking into milking them, if they were evan milk-able. Turns out that between these and the Nubian goats also of African decent, these were 'THE' goats to milk. Especially for cheese making purposes! Coincidence that I found them available in my area? At least I thought not.
OK. So lets retrace these steps. I liked watching my chickens, which lead me to thinking about the day that they would finally lay amazing free range organic eggs for me just outside my door, this then brought visions of delicious omelets dancing in my brain, and who would dare make such an unholy creation as an omelet WITHOUT cheese? (even fake cheese for those of us who are lactose sensitive) Cheese, ah yes, in a past life (or at least by now it seemed as if so) I had once been a cheese monger privy to tasting cheeses from all around the world and the stories of their creation that accompanied each and every one. Which then drew me to midget-like goats prancing in fields and enter craigslist stage left. Viola! Nigerian dwarf goats! Now if it were only going to be that easy to sell this idea to my husband who was just getting used to the dog and not 4, but 5 new chickens.
After mulling it over for a few minutes, I concluded, being that it was only several days before Christmas, I could easily throw that down as my first card, ya know, lay the foundation. My husband is a "man's man". He likes guns, fast stuff and tools. Tools that he hardly gets to use. Did I not mention that we don't have a fence? Anyway, if we got these goats, he would TOTALLY get to use his tools! Because we would obviously need to build me a pen. And maybe a manger. Regardless, he would get to do man-like-things AND use his tools to do them. If you ask me, I was doing HIM a favor. You're welcome.
So, I did what any good wife does, I waited for the exact right moment to run all this by him. Why, while he was trying to nap of course. One thing about my husband, he LOVES his sleep. So much so that he would do or say just about anything to be left to it. I closed with, "So, I'm just gonna go ahead and call the lady just to see if they are still available." (phone was already ringing).
I played "tag" with the farm owner for a day and a half. Which was totally fine because it gave us time to get the pen started. (smirk) On the eve BEFORE Christmas EVE, "Sadie"was safely in her new (to her AND to us) pen. We were now the proud owners of a beautiful ADGA registered ( didn't even consider that people would pedigree and register goats, but it's a "thing") Nigerian dwarf goat. And all was right with the... wait,
Did I mention she was pregnant?
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