Happy 2013, chickeneers!!! May she be kind to us all, and we kind to each other. And may there be chickens, and may their eggs be plentiful!
We had quite an eventful New Year’s Day here at Heedley’s Hens. For those of you not following us on Facebook, here is the abridged version:
Yes, you read that right: today, the first day of this, the Year of Our Lord two thousand and thirteen, Mae, the 33-week-old Easter Egger, did bestow upon me mine very first ever blue egg. Verily, I did plotz.
It’s perfect, if small. Truth be told, it’s not even a small; it’s a peewee. But, hey! It’s a little girl’s very first egg! Back off!!
The Stepdaughters are thrilled, and have made me promise to keep it intact until they return back to our house. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to crack it, frankly.
But that is not the meaning of today’s post heading. That, gentle reader, refers to my next next crazy coming down the pipe. No, not the heritage turkeys; that’s the next crazy. The next next crazy is…
You heard me. I have a sudden passion for dairy goats. Now, this might not seem so very crazy to those of you already residing in Goat World, but, let me assure you, it is batshit crazy. Milking goats? Moi?! Have you met me?
Forget milking; turns out there ain’t no milk without babies, which is painfully obvious, and yet I still had to ask, publicly, yet. So, milking goats also means breeding goats, with all the terrors and stresses that implies. I don’t know nothin’ about birthin’ no goats, Miss Scarlet. The learning curve will be precipitous. Insane. Batshit.
Mind you, this is 2014’s crazy, at the earliest. 2013 is for sorting out the turkey crazy, and there is no way on God’s green earth that I can even consider this farce without three things: a great deal of research; a comprehensive fence; the emptying and organisation of the barn. I’m concentrating on the first one, for now.
I bought a well-reviewed book, Storey’s Guide to Raising Dairy Goats, and am slowly making my way through it. I think I might want Nigerian Dwarf goats, although my goat guru Tricia finds their teats on the small side for milking. Ahem.
Oh, it’s all too preposterous for words. When I find the whole idea overwhelming and impossible, I tell myself that goats are fun pets, that goat’s milk is, in some ways, more nutritious and more easily-digestible than cow’s milk, and that I would really like to learn to make goat cheese, goat yogurt, and goat milk soap.
So, speak up, chickeneers: any goatherds out there?