And I’m embarrassed to make it. Here goes…
Before this afternoon, I had never met a goat up close and personal. I mean, I’m sure I’ve seen them and even petted them at one point or another, but I made the personal commitment to buy, breed and show Nigerian Dwarf goats having never met one.
That’s just how I roll.
Now, you may find this crazy, irresponsible, even, but many of my long-term passions have begun this way (see: Great Dane). I was relieved, of course, to completely fall in love with them, and to find a mentor and fellow goatherd in their keeper, MaryLou.
I promised lots of videos and photos, and I did take them. Really. Problem is, these little guys and girls are so frolicky, all my photos are blurry. I am attaching, below, the least offensive of the pics:
The stall doors all have little flaps in them. I asked what they were for, and MaryLou said, “Just watch…” Once inside their stalls, the goats all stick their heads out of the flaps to see what’s going on:
Except for the senior buck, who went up on his hind legs to check us out:
We were the beneficiaries of MaryLou’s hospitality for over an hour; we went for a walk around her pond with the herd, had a tour of the barn and milking room, and then into the house to have our first taste of goat’s milk.
You heard me. None of us had ever tasted goat’s milk before. The milk is creamy and rich beyond belief, but otherwise just like cow’s milk. You could cream your coffee with it. MaryLou also offered up a taste of her outstanding goat’s milk Gouda, a taste of the goat’s milk butter, gave me a lit of indispensable books for cheese and soap making, and answered all my many annoying questions.
We left with a good chunk of Gouda and two bars of her lovely goat’s milk soap, one English Rose and one Lemongrass, beautifully packaged, thusly:
Why is one package opened, you might ask? It’s opened because I took a very long, very hot bath immediately upon our return. The soap is divine.