Like Sands Through The Hour Glass…

So are the Days of Our Lives. 

That’s how my day started last Friday.  And, no, I wasn’t watching TV.  (Although I used to sneak Days of Our Lives when I was little, I wasn’t allowed to watch soap operas so, I would go downstairs, turn the TV on, press mute and read lips.  Yes, my mother is now aware of my disobedience.  It was at the tender age of around 12 that I learned how addictive soaps are, so I swore them off.  Forever.  Until now.)

This is gonna be a long one, so get a cup of coffee and sit down.  Put your feet up too.  It’s ultimately about Lilac.  Who is, thanks to the soap opera, no longer for sale.

First, I’ll introduce you to Marilan.  One of my new favorite people.

She is my local expert on All Things Goats.  And she’s holding a bag of soon-to-be-marketed homemade goat treats.  I call it Goat Crack.  My goats are addicted.

So, anyway, we brought Gaby, our purebred Alpine yearling (more specifically, nine-month-oldling), to Marilan’s farm a couple of days ago to meet Reign, the father of her future children.

No.  Not the father of Marilan’s future children.  Reign is Marilan’s prize buck.  Check out that beard!  He, compared to bucks of our previous breeding experience, was a hottie.  And, he didn’t really even smell that bad. 

That morning, Marilan’s goat Firefly, had kidded…they were some number of hours old.

But, on to the soap opera.  (Note:  Marilan is an email comedian)

So, we left Gaby with Marilan and Reign.  That night Marilan emailed:

Gabby is settled in fine…And they were enjoying some calm neck rubbing and stink exchanging this afternoon in the warm sun.  eeeewwww!

And, here’s where the real Lilac centered soap opera begins.

Marilan’s email this morning, entitled:  “Secrets Revealed”

…….the grapevine says your Lilac is from an accidental breeding of an agile Alpine buck to a Nigerian dwarf.  The talented young man in question is from the top Alpine breeder blood lines in the state……..yet no one ever quite knew how he cleared the fence and she never told her husband…As sands through the hourglass…

My response to Marilan:

 Now, are you making this up?  Or is this from some reputable source from Days of Our Lives in Ellicott?  I wouldn’t doubt the latter. 

Stay with me here…I know you’re wondering why I’m dragging you through these emails.  It’s just that the whole situation made me laugh so hard that I’m living vicariously through the replay.

And, the reason it’s even important is that Lilac is the goat I caution ALL POTENTIAL GOAT OWNERS AGAINST!!!  She has small, impossible, carpal tunnel causing, hand cramping teats!!!  We had no idea what to look for when we bought her…one of our first two goats.  And she’s the first one we plan (eh-hem, planned)  to sell as soon as our other goats kidded and starting giving us more milk.

Lilac.  Sell her.  Right Away.  Save my hands.  My nerves.  And my sanity.

Or not.

Marilan’s response to me, entitled:  “NO, Really”

NO TABLOIDS HERE,

Below underlined is part of an email I got from Ray last night about Gabby and her papers.  Ray is the exceptional young breeder in Boone…You can check out his website under bucks and find the buck aptly named Chaser (and he did, as Gary would say) who is from Mamm-Key blood lines…Mamm-Key lines are in most opinions the best producing Alpines in the Colorado Region with udder correctness to their credit.

(From Ray to Marilan):  Lindsey already owns a goat of my breeding although I don’t think she knows it was mine. I gave a friend one of my oops Alpine/Nigerian kids and that doe is Lilac that she has. She is out of Chaser so should milk a lot…

 OK, so, in summary, Lilac, the goat I was so ready to part with, has now acquired a great bit of fame in my household.  I actually ran out of the house to tell the Animal Whisperer that she was no longer for sale and why.  I laughed the whole time.  Not so much that it was funny, but that, I, a former city girl (becoming rapidly more and more former all the time) was a character in a goat love triangle.  In a goat soap opera. 

And, it appears that (openly admitting to all who inquire that we had NO IDEA what we were looking for.  OK, make that me.  The Animal Whisperer probably sort of did.), we have some sort of a potential gold mine in Lilac.  She has a father who is from the best milk producing goats in the state and therefore may produce exceptional milkers herself. 

I, being The Goat Cheese Lady, crave as much goat milk as I can get my hands on.  Getting close to two gallons a day out of one of Lilacs future daughters would be more than I ever thought possible to hope for.

And, Marilan sent me an email of congratulations for the find.

I’m still figuring out who’s who in this whole goat mix, I’m sure I’ll understand why I deserve congratulations for a goat at some point in my goat milking life.

For now, I just trust the experts.

-  The Goat Cheese Lady, Lilac’s Owner. 

 

 

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About The Goat Cheese Lady

I am Lindsey. I am an urban farmgirl attempting to balance city and farm life. I make cheese. I milk goats. I am married to the Animal Whisperer, man of exceptional knowledge and patience, I have two boys who are louder than my sister and I ever were, two big dogs, a few milking goats, some egg laying chickens and rabbits. Coyotes, rattlesnakes, deer, bear, and bobcats are frequent visitors. Just around the corner is the city. The pool. Yoga. The neighborhood friends. But we...and our farm...are hidden...by the rocks.
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3 Responses to Like Sands Through The Hour Glass…

  1. WOW thanks guys! I was voted most likely to run off to the hills and write a book on Rocky Mt Big Horned Sheep in HS. Now I am a trendy urban farmer. Never thought I would own a computer much less be using it so often. PS TABLOID SECRET I am writing a book with the help of a STELLAR dairy Goat. I’ll keep you posted. It’s hard to type with cloven hooves though.

  2. Tammy Merryfield says:

    I loved your article and I graduated with Marilan. She truly is very knowledgeable when it comes to animals. I always remember her talking about them when we were in school.

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