So, a few months ago, I had an opportunity to purchase a goat who was in milk. And so I took it. Ginger lives with my dear friend Abby and her goats, and I pay for her room and board.
Ginger is a Toggenburg, and she’s a total snot. She is the Queen Of The Farm (in her opinion). She gets grain when she’s milked, and I’m sure she goes back and brags about it to the other goats, who are all nubians. She is an escape artist, and she also knows that 1) she outweighs me and 2) I’m a sucker, so when it’s time to go back into the pen after milking, she instead heads straight for the weeds. And I let her munch for a while, and she pretends that she’s going to cooperate and head back with me. Until we get to the gate, and then she always takes off at a RUN to the nearest weedy patch. Booger.
Abby blogged about my first experience milking Ginger a little while ago here. I’ve definitely gotten much better since then, and actually am fairly quick about it these days, and I rarely squirt it around the room, or on myself, any more.