Milking 101

The sun came through my window, waking me at about 6:30. I’ve long since given up on having curtains hung over my windows. It’s better to wake up slowly, naturally, anyway.

I stir, and then I remember. We have a goat to milk this morning.

I roll out of bed and realize I can already hear my children downstairs. Clearly, they’re excited too.

I pad downstairs to excited eyes.

“Can you teach me how to milk?” Comes the excited question.

“Me too?”

“Of course,” I reply. Although in truth, I have no idea how this is going to go. I got a brief explanation of how to milk a goat when we picked up our kid goats a couple of months ago. Since then, I have watched many a youtube video, but that does not a competent milker, make.

What I have been told, by neighbours and bloggers alike, is that if you want GOOD tasting goat milk, you need to get that milk chilling as fast as possible. To that end, I dump some ice and water into an old folgers container and pop a litre mason jar inside it. While I milk, I plan to take breaks and dump into the jar, getting that sweet milk cooling as quickly as possible.

I grab my handy milking bowl, and place a fine mesh strainer over top, to keep the messiness out. Finally, I grab a container for washing.

I’m loaded down like Sleeping Beauty’s birthday cake while I head out the door.

Satine greets us in the barn, baying happily. She’s glad to see us. Or is that impatience? (She’s used to being milked by now *heh*)

I send Kayli running with another Folgers container to fill with oats and goat feed. We don’t have a stanchion yet. We were lacking in our preparation. I realize it will just mean a lot of bending, but that’s ok. I’m willing.

Satine runs out, and not really knowing where to head, she jumps up onto two straw square bales we have stacked against the wall. She seems sturdy enough, so we tell the kids to hold the food for a second, as we prop something for her to eat out of there. Then we set to work.

Ahhh, make shift farming at it’s best.

Everyone immediately wants a turn. It begins with Kayli on one side, me on the other. It does not go well. We’re squeezing. Our rhythm is out of wack. We’re getting tiny squirts. Nothing like the beautiful gushes of milk I’ve seen from the videos. Our hands cramp and before we’re done, Satine kicks over our bucket. Four times.

We do NOT get a litre and a half.

We do, however, get really, really sticky from the spillage.

After about an hour, we give Satine back to Monty and retire to watch videos again.

The next morning, we try again (on the ground this time).

She kicks her buckets over another 6 times before we give up.

The third Day, Dave gives it a try. He sits down beside Satine, talking quietly, and after a few quick squirts, it’s like he turns on a faucet and suddenly she lets down and wonderful milk is ours.

Sometimes I tell you, that man is a show-off.

The good news though? The rest of us have gotten the hang of it as well. (Although it took a little more… effort, on our part.) I know they call milking a chore, but it’s something we all enjoy doing. And it is so very, very rewarding.

Milk moustaches all around.