In all its farm life irony her milk is the tastiest we have ever had. So creamy, the two tablespoons we manage to get back into the house, that is.
When we brought her home last year at two days old she healed the wound that occurred when our beloved goat died while giving birth. Her long legs and big eyes melted our hearts and those around the city as we brought her everywhere with us in the truck. She went to schools that we spoke at, Walmart, Panera, even the bar (though she was clearly under age) and she brought light to our farm.
Friday evening my friend, Jill, who gave us Elsa and Isabelle, came over to give Elsa “an attitude adjustment” and showed us how to halter her, let up when she calms down, reward her, milk her out, even if that means a gallon of milk across the stanchion and a very tired human and goat. It took a long time but she got her milked out. We are forever in debt to Jill for leading us into the life of goats and for going out of her way to always help us.
But Elsa soon did not care about the uncomfortable harness. Her new goal was to train to be a bucking bronco. My, she would shine in the arena.
Yesterday my friend and current student came to school us. She has a small dairy down the road. She and her girls came over to milk Elsa and to show us some tricks. Elsa won.
My goals (and budget) did not count on our sweet goat to be a pet. She does not respect us because we spoil her and do not have an upper hand. Perhaps she would be like the goat we gave to Lauren last year. That goat wouldn’t have anything to do with us, would sit in the bucket, and try to run off. She went to her new home and lets Lauren milk her without a stanchion even! Maybe Elsa just isn’t our goat.
What to do with Elsa Maria?