Improving Our Stockmanship

Sunday was our first real day of “chores” for the Bessettes. We headed over to see our naughty goats, too. By the morning light, we saw one goat standing by the gate, so I happily went to let, as I supposed, Flower out for her milking. When the goat didn’t immediately leave the pen, I looked closer at the udder, and it wasn’t Flower.

No, Flower was up at the shelter, tussling with our Annabelle. They would crash horns and charge each other—over and over. I tried calling Flower, and dragging Flower, and saying enticing things to Flower.

Finally I figured that Flower was not that ready to milk, so I let her be. Nothing like an extra eight hours with a full udder to increase the cooperation of a goat.

Back at the homestead, I remembered reading a short booklet published by Stockman Grass Farmer on moving animals. I vaguely remembered that we are supposed to be quiet, and move slowly, and not get behind an animal. I was pretty sure we had broken all those rules the day before, so I refreshed my memory and reread this pamphlet.

What a great read! The premise was that all domesticated animals have certain tendencies, and we can use those tendencies to our advantage. For example, an animal wants to keep moving in the direction he is facing. An approaching human is stressful, and an animal will try to avoid the stress. So if you angle yourself the right way, you can maneuver the animal to go the way you want. If I want a goat to go west, I don’t go to the west and try to pull the goat. Rather, I go straight at the goat, then when I get a little ways away, I veer to the east. The goat should veer west.

This was very exciting, so that afternoon I tried it out. It worked perfectly! I entered the pasture, and Flower-the-goat-that-needs-milking approached me right away, and went to the milking stand. All was okay, except I think a horsefly bit her while milking (I didn’t see that part) because she pulled herself off the machine and bolted a bit. Then, horrors, she went exploring into Dennis’ workshop and began to eat what looked like iron filings on the ground. For a long time.

I fetched Phil. He and I together herded this persnickety beast out of the workshop and … into the forest! Out of the forest and down the hill. Argh! And then, when two adults had finally managed to steer this animal into the pasture again, I still had to clean the milking container, the milking tubes, the suction ring, the milking cups, the filter, and the strainer. And, I’m sure due to the stress of Annabelle and Amy and a horsefly, real or imagined, Flower only gave about a half gallon for almost 36 hours. Argh! Two hours of my life spent chasing, pumping, chasing, cleaning, for a measly eight cups of milk.

Ah, but I gained experience. And we did better getting our two goats back in the truck to return them to our newly set up electric netting.

The goats, apparently, recognized the netting, because they were extremely reluctant to enter the pen, and then they went nowhere near the netting, and so were not zapped at all.

This (Monday) morning we woke up with a chill. Phil couldn’t believe it, but he needed a jacket vest when we first went outside. We were chilly! In August! And a light drizzle was falling. Those poor goats needed a shelter! So he put together something out of pallets and a poncho. The goats were thankful.

As the day progressed, Phil realized that, due to goat curiosity, the pallets needed a stronger connection than baling twine, so he actually used drill and screws to put bracing on.


Our well-drillers came today. They have a heavy southern accent, so much so that I’m not sure we’re both speaking English. Maybe their form is a different dialect. I think one said that they hit water, a couple of gallons a minute, after drilling 185 feet (Phil said the top 40 feet was soil, and then they started drilling through rock. The rock part is very slow, so they sat in lawn chairs, smoking cigarettes). Then they left and will return tomorrow. But we could have not heard quite right. I guess we’ll see.


The debris from the drilling site is extremely small, considering how far they have drilled. There is some fine red Virginia clay, which the boys played in like a sandbox. And then some viscous grey-blue pulverized rock. Abraham stood in it barefoot and when he stepped away, it looked like he was wearing blue shoes. And we saw a blue spider, but we think it was just covered from head to toe-toe-toe-toe-toe-toe-toe-toe with the rock dust.

About this time (midafternoon), I remembered that goats prefer to eat hay from off the ground; if it’s on the ground, they become picky-picky, and refuse. Our hay was on the ground, but we took it and shoved it between the upper slats of the pallet. Those goats went to town! They were so hungry! And after they ate the hay, they wandered about their paddock, eating the brush. They might eat it down after all, but so far, in a poison ivy/goat match, the poison ivy is ahead.

I was looking at craigslist today for pigs, kittens, chickens and guineas. And I confess that I also looked at sheep and cows. So we are discussing what to get next. After almost 24 months of reading about how to care for all these animals, it feels so wonderful to actually be able to purchase them and see what we like! I spent an hour reviewing sheep. We’re thinking we might add sheep to the goat pen. They prefer to eat different things (goats eat brush, sheep eat grass). None of the books I read said anything about a sheep/goat combination. I said to Phil, “It’s like we’re the first people to try that combination since the beginning of the world!” (I believe I take after my Mom in such subtle use of hyperbole.)

He said, “But didn’t Jacob keep both goats and sheep?” Since I had just reread the story of Jacob yesterday morning, I could answer in the affirmative.

Milking Flower this evening went better. I confess to a bit of trepidation, and I can honestly say that no one would mistake me for a pro, but Flower didn’t get into the workshop, she milked all the way out, I got her almost all the way into the pasture by myself (in the end, Phil did walk down the driveway behind her, but he didn’t get too close before she gave up). Today it took only one hour from start to finish, and I think she gave about a gallon.


The other fun thing we did today was spread two large round hay bales (one spoiled, one “spoiled” but really mostly good, we think) all over the bare soil. So along the driveway, on all the slopes down from the trailer pads, wherever the earth shows red. I had sown oats, and some of them are now about 3” tall, which is very sweet. But I think they’ll do better with a mulch, and Butch offered to bring them over, so he brought us these two several hundred pound bales on his tractor. Phil, he-man that he is, rolled one of the bales uphill, unrolling as he went, like a massive roll of toilet paper. I spread it and sowed red clover on it. Hopefully the clover on it and the oats under it will sprout well, form a good root system, and prevent more erosion from happening.

Perfect weather, sweet smelling hay (well, the second bale anyway), happy boys, contented parents—what a great day!