The one I picked up tonight was written in June of 1979, and I was answering a question regarding our dairy goat herd. Just reading what I wrote brought back such memories. Waaaah , I wanna get goats again. (Please, somebody stop me. I don't want to be tied down with twice a day milking right now. I don't want to lie awake nights in mid-winter wondering if the goats are staying warm enough.)
The nucleus of our herd was just being built at that time. We had three Nubian milkers: Maggie, who was 5 years old, and the best goat ever personality-wise and a good, steady milker; Misty, 4 years old, a sweet, small doe who was a lovely frosted silver color; and Debra, 3 years old, a beautiful, red, huge, heavy milker who was the biggest klutz in goat-dom. She couldn't hop up on the milking stand without tripping and getting down wasn't much better. (Ever try to catch a large goat so she didn't fall on the floor?) Gosh darn, she was clumsy.
We had been taking our does down into
The two yearling does not yet producing were Gretchen and Jenny. We had just had two doe kids, Zoey (guess I've always been fond of that name) who was Brisbane's sister, and Emily, one week old, who had just arrived from another homestead and was being bottle fed.
That's another thing I don't want on my list every day right now . . . bottle feeding kid goats three times a day. Or do I? No. NO. NOOOO! But, gosh, thinking of those goats does bring back good memories. Sigh.