Being a Goat Farmer

About three lifetimes and two husbands ago, I was in school to be a social worker. I was going to save the world one child at a time. I was going to make a difference in society. I had all these made for tv idealistic dreams of what being a social worker was.

Then the first day of class my professor said “if you want to be a social worker to help people, you are in the wrong profession”. And for the last 13 years that hands rankled me. What else would one become a social worker if not to help people? So I changed my degree and became a biologist. Then a goat farmer.

I have people tell me all the time “I want goats! The babies are so cute bouncing around and I want a whole field of them being adorable” I usually kindly educate them on reality and goats.

And today I realized something. If you want to become a goat farmer to play with baby goats and have yard ornaments and think there is no real work to it, then you are in the wrong profession. Because that’s only like 10% of the deal.

This shit is hard. No matter how hard you work, how paranoid you become about health, vaccines, proper worming protocol, maintenance, keeping them warm, keeping them cool, waiting until they are old enough to breed but not so late in the season you’ll have kids born in the blazing summer…

Something will go wrong. Goats die, they go missing, they get hurt, they hurt or kill each other, they abort, they have still births, they get sick and use up all your medicine and then sometimes still die.

We’ve had six goats die or go missing this year. Six. Heart attack, poison, congenital defects, stolen, and killed by another goat. Some I had raised from the moment they were born. Some I spent years trying to save from neglect. The rest…

And I blame myself for every one of them. I am their keeper, their guardian. Yes they are my property and my job, but it hurts every. Single. Time.

My family asks me if everyone has it this hard. I come from city people, where if a cat or dog doesn’t live to at least 10 years something went terribly wrong. The concept of losing so many in a year doesn’t compute. They wonder why I stay.

I wonder why I stay. I wonder why I put myself, my husband, my family through this. Is that 10% worth it?

A very wise woman, who has been breeding goats longer than I have been alive, told me that guppies are mighty tempting at times. “You get sick of them, you flush them into the river”. You can’t do that with goats, obviously. Another friend reminded me that you have to love this job, and that shit happens. Both of them told me “you work and live for the good times. The new babies, that perfect Udder, the 16 year old doe that still thinks you are momma. The rest….the rest sucks. But it is the downside to what we do”.

Yes, when a goat is gone it is my responsibility. Sometimes there was nothing I could have done. Sometimes it’s directly from my poor decision. Sometimes I do everything I can and make a good decision that goes screwy. But I am responsible. And I always will be.

Today we finished winterized the barn for the girls. Laid down the pallets and plywood, piled up the straw, shut down the front door. At one point I was fighting the mineral feeder, and I was weeping. Yes, even goat mommas cry. I was so, so frustrated and angry and sad. At myself, the situations, the world.

And then I felt a tug. And a nibble. And suddenly there was a baby goat in my much too small lap. And another and another. Dora came to love one me, pregnant with life herself. I stopped listening to my own pain for a moment and listened to the animals around me. Looked at their thick shiny coats covering bodies of good flesh, half of them rounded with new life. I smelled the hay and straw and grain.

You want to become a goat farmer to play with baby goats and have yard ornaments without hard work, then you are in the wrong profession. Because there will be days you sit in the straw in your barn, covered in mud and god knows what else, and will cry.

But you will stop crying, eventually. You will dust yourself off and wipe your tears. And you will find a way to put another step forward. If that life is with animals or another path, is entirely up to you. No one of any worth will
Judge you.

For now, I choose the animals and the heartache and the joy. I’ll cling to the joy when the heartache overwhelms me. I’ll mourn the six I have lost, and rejoice in the 32 that live.

Don’t become a goat farmer because you love baby goats. Become a goat farmer because you are willing to work hard for something beautiful.

Missing Oberhasli Buck

Missing Oberhasli Buck

$1000 reward offered for his living and unharmed return

We woke up yesterday morning to a missing buck, Mezzanotte. We highly suspect he has been taken, and the sheriff agrees. Fence is intact, Hotwire is working, and we have girls in heat right on the buck test fence. That’s where he was glued to when we went to bed last night.

We’ve walked the entire property so many times, I’ve taken the lid off the old well and climbed 12′ down chin deep in disgusting water to make sure he didn’t end up in there somehow, we’ve driven the area three times. He either learned to fly or someone helped him. The other two bucks with him won’t come up to strangers, but he’s like a big dog.

I’ve filed a police report, posted him on ALFPN, and have contacted the owner, because of course it’s the expensive buck I’m leasing for two years. I’m sick to my stomach and furious. If he doesn’t show up joshua is going to the Beebe flea market Saturday morning cause I know some sketch happens there sometimes. Any other suggestions are welcome at this point.

He is tattooed and microchipped so even if someone tries to destroy his tattoos he can still be positively identified. He is not wearing a blue collar anymore, it’s a leather and chain collar.

Updates for Fall

Hey Everyone! Breeding season has begun on the farm. We have been working hard to update the website with planned breedings, and will be posting updated pictures throughout the next few weeks now that the rain has held off for a bit. If you have any questions about reserving a kid (or two or ten) just let us know. Thanks!

We will be showing at the Arkansas State Fair October 21-23 with 16 of our lovely ladies

And milk production is in full swing! Make an appointment to take home some magic in a jar today.

2016 AGPA Spring Show

We had an amazing weekend at the Arkansas Goat Producers Spring Show! The goats behaved beautifully (for the most part-I’m lookin at you Sassafras), friendships were made, and ribbons were won!

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Grand champion Nubian buck-Robinett’s-Caprines Rupert
Double reserve champion junior Oberhasli doe- Bottomhill LIT Mary
Heaviest single day milk volume- Bottomhill Kardashian
10 First Place ribbons
15 Second Place
13 Third Place

Next on the schedule-trip to the Colonies for fresh genetics, Linear Appraisal, and then our Inaugural Open House!

New babieS

Hey everyone! Sorry for the radio silence, it’s been a little crazy around here. 

Kim (aka kardashian) kidded with twin grade bucks, Rebel and Kettle. We are going to keep them, wether, and train them as cart goats. 
   
    

  
 
Caitlyn (aka speechless) had a huge single doeling-9 pounds at birth! She’s 75% grade ober, and her fancy name is Goatroper Farms Joan Aux Arc. We call her Joanie for short. 

Zhaan’s registration got done, and her horns finally came off yesterday. She seems much happier!

Ariel and Myriah are due to kid Thursday. Both are wide as whales and fairly miserable. 

We are going to give Ariel a year off after this. She’s an older gal, and while she makes beautiful kids, I worry about it wearing her down. Especially after last years bought with ketosis and uterine infection. 

Sally has decided she completely hates us and is literally living in a tree. She found a downed tree trunk and won’t come off it. I have to take her grain and back away slowly. This is even more awesome since she is due in 2.5 weeks. 

Get into goats, they said. It will be easy and fun, they said. They lie!

Cabinets

Spent most of the afternoon painting cabinets and assembling doors and such. The cabinets are a loving mish mash of Kate’s grandmothers kitchen and Goatroper friends who are also remodeling their kitchen. So it was a bit of a puzzle.  

 Kate’s grandfather spent the last few years of his life in a motorized wheelchair. And Bob Jones drove his wheelchair with all the caution and delicacy that he drove his vehicles. Aka Mad Max style. 

So the cabinet doors at grandmas all have wheelchair divots ground into the wood. When it came time to put the doors on, of course the divots had to stay. Poppaw Bob died a week before we moved in, but now part of him will be a part of the property for a long time.  

 

Farming

Thanks to the terrible gift that is Facebook memories, I was alerted to the fact that our original barn burned to the ground six years ago yesterday. 
Farming is hard y’all. I know right now farming is chic and people love the idea of baby goats and fluffy chicks and fresh eggs and milk and veggies. I get more and more people wanting to buy a single goat for their back yard for urban farming. Or that want to come visit the farm because they equate farms with petting zoos. 
I’m gonna Gibbs smack those people with some reality. Farming is hard, gross, and heartbreaking. It’s a 24/7 job, because even when you are not actively with the animals, you are planning stuff, researching on the Internet, harassing your mentors for advice, and buying things you need but can’t afford until after you won’t need them anymore. 
In the last month we’ve had a goat poisoned and another abort. I have 13 does still pregnant, and all have to get prenatal vitamins, shots, and supplements at the correct time to hopefully bring a healthy baby into the world. And the unseasonably warm weather means we are already fighting parasites. 
When the barn burned to the ground, we lost 10 of our 11 goats, including five 1-month old kids and the first kid born after Goatroper became official. We had to bury their charred bodies, which were all curled up where they slept like they were simply asleep under a grey blanket. 
Except butch who died saving the kids by knocking down the door to their stall. Only Zeus got out because Oscar snagged him and ran him to the house. 
The world need more farmers. Those who came before us are retiring or dying, and they aren’t being replaced fast enough. So I encourage people to farm and grow food and breed animals. 
But do your research first. Work on a farm for a few months. Be there when an animal is born. Be there when an animal you love dies despite all the medicine in the world. Learn about medicines you can give and what you need a vet for. Learn basic surgery skills. Get over being grossed out because something is always gross. Build your buildings to code, don’t skimp because it’s “just a barn”. 
But please don’t get farm animals because they are cute as babies. 
Most importantly, farm because it’s what your heart and gut and brain tell you to do. Go into it 100% knowing that for every miracle there might be tragedy. And when there is, don’t succumb to the tragedy. Take it and make your heart, gut, and brain stronger with your grief and knowledge.