War

This morning launched a war...not a scrimmage, but a full-fledged, call in the troops, war. It began like most of my mornings. 5:57am Lilo started calling to her babies. I’m not sure why, but it always seems to be exactly 5:57am each morning. She has an internal clock that chimes at that time.


I rubbed my eyes, stretched, and attempted to roll out of bed. “I hear ya, Lilo” is my most common morning phrase now. My legs were sore from all of the planting that we did yesterday, but I managed to get up.

As the water warmed for the milking bucket (I fill the bucket with warm water and a drop of Dr. Bronner’s Soap to wash Lilo’s udder before milking), I made the coffee. It is almost an automatic routine at this point. I don’t know that I am truly conscious of what I’m doing. As I walked out the back door with the milking bucket, I called to the kids that it’s time to get up. They will still be asleep when I come back in, but this at least gets them to stir.

Lilo was happy to walk out of the gate when I opened it and jumped right up on to the milking stand. As always, I had to relocate her head IN the stanchion instead of around it, but otherwise, things were looking good. I secured the strap around Lilo’s rear leg and poured the warm water over the wash cloth (this way I never contaminate the bucket). Lilo was great while I washed her udder. She even seemed to like it. But it was all a ploy to lower my guard. Never underestimate the premeditation of a milking goat.

I began milking, first squirting a couple of times off the back of the stand (to clear the teat of bacteria) and then into the bucket. It was going just fine when Lilo decided to kick. Her rear leg (the one strapped to the stand) came up, back, and down. Now she was leaning off the back of the stand by about 6 inches and coming seriously close to knocking the bucket over with her belly. I waited patiently for her to reestablish her hoof on the stand, but she just kept kicking it up, back, and down. Ok , fine. I pulled the bucket out, set it on the ground and helped her set her foot back on the stand. She immediately went back to eating as if nothing had ever happened.

I thought, maybe she had an itch or the strap was pinching her. So we began again. I set the bucket under her and began to milk. The foot went up, back, and down. But this time, in between this new dance, she would set the foot back on the stand and lift the other foot. At one point her other foot landed squarely on the side of the bucket, her hoof straddling the metal edge. Luckily I was quick enough to grab the bucket and keep from losing the milk.

I decided to try and hobble her other leg too. I grabbed a piece of twine (thank God for baling twine) and looped it around her other ankle then down to the leg of the stand. Now she had both legs somewhat pinned. I went back to milking...

The minute my left hand touched her left teat, her left leg came up, back, and down. It didn’t matter that she was tied to the stand. She just took turns lifting one leg and then the other. Of course, I could see that I needed to change the way that I had hobbled her, but it was 6 o’clock in the morning. I honestly just wanted to get her milked, get her put away, and go inside to have my coffee.

I eventually resorted to milking into the grain scoop. This wasn’t because I couldn’t hold the bucket with one hand to milk, but the scoop is much smaller and easier to move in and out of the stand area. I milked out her right teat first. Then her left. She danced through almost all of it but I finished. Every time she bucked, I slapped her rear and told her no. Then I waited until she stood still again and started milking again. Squirt, squirt, leg up- back-down, scoop out, slap rear, no, wait, repeat. By the time I was finished all I could think about was how much I didn’t want to repeat this series again. But at the same time, I kept mumbling “I feed you. I care for you. My family needs this milk. This is your job. You are not going to win.”

When I went inside, I poured my coffee and immediately began reading every article, blog, and comment about how to get a goat to stop kicking on the milking stand. Lilo, you may be the queen of the herd, but I am the queen of the roost. Watch out. I’m not going to give up.