Dottie Blew…And We Made Cheese.

It started out as a typical Goat Cheese Making Class.  Just four friendly students here for a Saturday morning of milking, cheesemaking and eating.  It went smoothly until my six-year-old blasted through the kitchen door with the newsflash:


Well, fine timing, Dottie.  We’re right in the middle of stretching the mozzarella.  Could ya have waited a few minutes longer?  I mean, I’m dressed in good clothes!

No, what I really thought was:  Thank GOODNESS!  No more sleepness nights of listening to goat moaning* through the baby monitor hooked up in the barn.  No more thinking, maybe she just swallowed a barrel, sideways, and isn’t actually pregnant.  No more honing our skills at predicting when she’d go, and realizing we really don’t have any skills, because for the last month and a half we’ve been wrong.

*Moaning:  That’s what this pregnant goat did ALL NIGHT LONG.  For weeks.  Moan.  Loud moans.  Softer moans.  Long painful moans.  Short moans.  The Animal Whisperer repeatedly tried to convince me that we had actually crossed signals with some hot romance going on in the neighbor’s houses.  OK, I could have done without that mental image, thanks.

So, after taking a quick consensus of the group, it was decided that we would put the cheese making on hold in order to take a birthing field trip. 

Here’s what we saw when we got there.  That little white thing inside the bubble is a hoof!  That’s what you want to see first.  Hooves!  Front hooves.  They should come out first, situated under the baby’s chin like it’s diving headlong out of the confines of its mother.

And, that’s the position poor Dottie takes when kidding.  Head twisted around like a contortionist.  By the way, this was the first time I’ve ever helped deliver a baby!  Human or otherwise.  I’ve seen births.  I’ve just never pulled one out.  Until now.  The first kid was big and seemed to be slow coming out (as compared with the only other two goats I’ve ever seen get born, quite a lot of history, I know), so instinct took over and I dove into the birthing fluids to pull him out.  It was a weird, awesome feeling to get a strong enough grip on the slimy baby and feel the membranes of the birthing sack clicking, popping and tearing as I pulled him out.

Then, there he was.  A pile of slime wrapped around a helpless little goat.  A boy.  I cleaned out his mouth quick and put him up by his mama’s face so she could clean him off.

Later, I held the babies while the Animal Whisperer cut their umbilical cords and tied them off with my long-lost mint dental floss.  Floss works for more than just teeth.  Did you know?

Not a bad addition to the Goat Cheese Making Class…huh?  In the words of my sister…I Want To Do This ALL The Days!  Only she said that after getting laughing gas at the dentist’s office when she was around five.  Some phrases just live on.

And, here are the lucky students!  After seeing Dottie deliver her 3 babies, 2 girls and 1 boy, we finally headed back up to the house to finish the mozzarella and fill our growling stomachs.  Marylin, Amanda, Lydia and Wende.  Wende (right) had brought her granddaughter, Lydia, who she home schools, to the class for her “Field trip.”  What a trip it turned out to be!

– The Goat Cheese Lady

About The Goat Cheese Lady

I am Lindsey. At first I was a city girl. Growing up, the closest thing I had to farm animals were a cat and a cockatiel. In 2009, Herbert (my husband) and I bought our first milk goat and I instantly became an urban farmgirl, attempting to balance city and farm life..before I knew “urban homesteading” was a thing. That’s when we began The Goat Cheese Lady Farm, hence The Goat Cheese Lady blog you’re visiting now. After moving to the country in 2014, I embarked on life as a rural farmgirl. We continued teaching farm and cheesemaking classes, raising more goats and began construction on our cheese creamery. But life had other plans and in 2017, we decided that, due to financial and health issues, we had to close the farm for business. No more classes, no more creamery, a lot less milking. We went back to off farm jobs, I as an Occupational Therapist, Herbert in construction with his business, D&A Home Remodeling. At that point, I made a silent promise to myself that I would corral my entrepreneurial mind and focus on a job for a year. Well, it has been a year and I am back. Not to classes, cheese, soap or lotion, but back to writing. I love it. I’m not sure where it will lead me, but that’s where I’m starting. I’ll continue to write as The Goat Cheese Lady for now, and whatever the future holds, I’ll let you know. Our two boys are 14 and 11 and continue to be louder than my sister and I ever were. We have two dogs, Montaña and Flash, a cat, Jumpy, a flock of chickens and three goats. Yes, we still have Lucy, the goat who helped us start it all and was milked by over 1,000 people. She’s retired but still the boss. Chocolate provides enough milk for our family with some to spare for the dogs. Soccer friends, school friends, coyotes and mice are frequent visitors. There are way too many flies and every so often we see an owl. I’m glad you’re here. Sometimes you’ll laugh out loud, other times you’ll be inspired to appreciate the small things. My hope is that, over your morning cup of coffee or your afternoon work break, you’ll enjoy the antics and inspiration that are my daily life. Lindsey
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5 Responses to Dottie Blew…And We Made Cheese.

  1. marilan says:

    Now you can serve him up for supper and if he’s tasty you can buy mine and throw a party;-) (slightly larger). Hope all is well.

    • When do you usually eat yours? Lindsey

      • marilan says:

        It’s all about economics. The Spanish folks out here want them before they are off milk like veal I suppose, but however long you want to feed them for their first year. 4H raise the market ones to 100# or so. But those are boers. More.meat less feed than dairy.

  2. Melina says:

    Congratulations! She looked ready to pop last month, no wonder if she was carrying three. Really good count for the season, 4 girls and one boy.

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