The sequel to Noah's Ark



Me and one of the twins

 I would be running the sequel to Noah's ark if I didn't have my husband to reign me in at times. I grew up on a farm with animals and would love nothing more than to have two of every kind. Aside from my BFF Christy, there were no other kids around to play with. When mom sent us out to play there were no pick up games of ball or hop scotch down the sidewalk, in fact there weren't any sidewalks. We spent our summers and weekends playing in the creeks or roaming the pastures playing with the horses and cows.

I had wanted to add goats to our menagerie for some time. Providing a herd for Jose, our donkey, was the perfect excuse. Before I could come home with a trailer load of goats, I had to prove to my financier, aka Allen, my husband, that they could be a profitable addition. We currently raise a variety of all natural, pastured meats. I have learned to love our animals, while respecting them for their intended purpose.  I would love for this farm to be a exhibition where every animal lived out its life in the lap of luxury and died peacefully of old age. Unfortunately, I  am not a millionaire, so the farm must turn a profit in order for us to maintain the 'diva' lifestyle our breeding stock and their offspring now enjoy.



Freckles



 I just love our goats. They each have a unique little personality. They are very intuitive and sensitive creatures. Freckles, the sweet, shy one, still waits till very late to go into the barn at night. She refused to go in at all for a  full week after Grandma Goat suffered her stroke in the same barn, see A goat tragedy from 1/21/13. Her orphan, Frosty, is very shy and not as playful as Freckles kids, the "twins".



Strawberry and Frosty



The twins



Strawberry is our acrobat/escape artist. I have always heard that a fence that can hold a goat must be "water tight", meaning, it could hold water. Our five strands of high tensile electric fencing keeps in all but her. I feel certain she could escape from the innermost vaults of Fort Knox if given the opportunity! Her antics have become a bit subdued in the last few days as she is VERY pregnant and should give birth sometime next week. I can't wait to share the pictures, baby goats are just so adorable!





Billy, our male, has a new, troubling way to great us. When we go into his pasture he stands on his hind legs and tries to "head butt" us! As my husband will assure you, I am seriously hard headed, but no match for a goats thick, horned skull. He is a young buck, less than two, and weighs nearly 175 pounds. When standing on his hind legs, he is at eye level with me, not a fact I really wanted to learn, but did.

Billy and his rectangle pupils

Speaking of being eye-to-eye with Billy, goats and octopus are the only two animals that have rectangle shaped pupils. It is very odd when you first see this up close. Take a good look next time you find yourself face to face with a goat.

Here are few other interesting facts about our friends the goat. They were the first domesticated animal over 10,000 years ago, as evidenced by caveman paintings. Columbus brought the first goats to America in 1493. Goats milk is naturally homogenized, meaning it has a uniform consistency, making it easier to digest than cow's milk. In fact, it takes only 20 minutes to digest goats milk versus nearly a full day to digest the same amount of cow's milk.

Here's were we come to the profitability. Would you believe that 63% of red meat consumed world wide is goat meat? It is lower in cholesterol, fat and calories than chicken. Who knew!? I personally have never tried goat meat. I guess if I am to market my products in order to finance the upkeep of my beloved herd that will all have to change. Goat burgers anyone?

This precious piece of land...



Taylor, blankie and Mr Snubby.

 We all have possessions, some more than others. We all cherish our children and pets of course, but each of us has that one tangible 'thing' we own that we could never bare to part with. Some store this priceless item away in a lock box, while others display their treasure prominently on the mantle. For each of us, that one item is different. My 2 1/2 year old, Taylor, drags her beloved blankie around with her everywhere. It was patiently sewn by my Nana's arthritic hands and is now worn soft by Taylor's love. Bed time does not come for her without it. It is her one priceless treasure.

Over the years what we hold dear waxes and wains like the moon. What we are inseparable with today will be found neatly folded away in an attic box tomorrow. I recently rediscovered my own treasured childhood possession in a storage box, Mr. Snubby, my teddy bear. My Aunt Carol had given him to me when I was born. He had stood guard in my crib as an infant and had a spot on my bed till I was nearly grown. I'm not sure when he found his way into that box, but I was delighted to see him again. His fur is matted down and his faced permanently squished to one side from all those years of snuggling. I'm sure he wouldn't fetch more than a dime at a yard sale today, but during my childhood, he was priceless. Some things just can't be replaced nor purchased for any amount of money. Some times the true value of a possession is far greater than its appraised value.

In the 1870's my great great grandfather, Edward Lee Taylor, purchased a farm just north of the Meherrin River, near the Lunenburg/ Brunswick County line in southern Virginia. Here he built a home for his wife, Sarah, and they began to farm and  raise a family. The stone chimney from their original farm house still stands. It was hand built from local field stones, each selected for their unique size and shape. A mortar mixture made of red clay provides both buffer and bond between each stone. It is a design that works, for it has stood tall and strong for over 140 years.



A rainbow over the old chimney.



Over the decades the Taylor family continued to live and work here on this farm. My great grandfather grew cotton and wheat, my grandfather planted tobacco and my father raised cattle and hogs. Like my ancestors before me, I grew up right here, working side by side with my father. He taught me what his father had taught him.  As an only child, I was my fathers shadow. 

With its red clay soil and ancient oak trees, I cherish this farm and dream of its possibilities. This piece of land has always been my home, as it was to so many Taylor's before me. And even though my last name has changed, my heritage has not. I was fortunate to marry a man who made my dreams for this farm his own, and who works tirelessly along side me to see them through.



 This farm is my one precious 'thing' with which I could never part. Money can not buy a family history like ours, embedded root deep in this piece of land. Every day I gaze out of my front window and see that old chimney. Statuesque and proud, each stone an individual, bound tightly to the next by that red clay soil. The Taylor family is reminiscent of that old chimney. Strong and proud, each individual with its own shape and unique qualities, bound together through the years by soil, the soil of our family farm.

It's a daily reminder of where we came from, and where we're going.

Pedicures for the goats

Today was pedicure day for all of our goats. Goats hooves are designed for agility and stability on rocky mountain sides. In that kind of environment their hooves wear down from the friction of the rough, hard terrain. The red clay pastures of southern Virginia aren't very abrasive and allow for little to no wear on their hooves. So the hooves grow and grow so we must trim and trim. This is a painless procedure for the goats and necessary to prevent hoof root and other painful foot disorders.
I have enjoyed my share of pedicures over the years. They typically involve a comfy massage chair, warm bubbling water, lavender scented salt scrub and idol gossip with my BFF. Never were Carhardt overalls, muck boots, a five gallon bucket and pruning shears a prerequisite...until today.

 When we purchased the goats back in October, the Garretts at www.Stokelandsavannas.com had given us a hands on demonstration in hoof trimming.  This was the first time we had attempted it on our own. I went online to refresh my memory in trimming techniques and out to the pasture we went.

Jealous little Jose

We decided Billy would be the first to get the 'goat spa treatment'. With a trough of sweet feed in front of him, he was happy for the duration. As long as the feed didn't run out, I feel certain we could have included a wash, cut and color and he wouldn't have budged. Jose, our donkey,  has adopted the 'kid brother' role to Billy as they share a pasture. He was quite jealous that Billy was getting all the attention and wedged his way into the action as close as he could get.



The "business end" of Billy.

 With Billy being our first hoof trimming ever, and the most in need of it, the process took awhile. The longer it took, the more sweet feed he ate. The more he ate, the more his tummy grumbled. The only way to get the right angle to trim his rear hooves was for me to straddle his back and hold the hind leg up while Allen held his horns for my safety. This is one of the proper ways to restrain a goat to work on them. The "business end" of a goat over indulging in feed is never a good place to be. I can now say with confidence that I have had a close encounter with goat flatulence...and it didn't smell like lavender salt scrub!

Now that Billy was all trimmed up and aired out, we moved on to the girls. The twins were their typical curious selves and climbed all over us and Freckles, their mother, as we trimmed her hooves. The girls were a bit more reluctant, so Allen had to hold tightly to their horns to keep them still. Thank the Lord a goat has a natural handle! 



The curious twins climbing while Freckles gets her pedicure.



I swear it looks like the kid is smiling!

As usual, Strawberry was having no parts of being caught. Attempts to lure her with treats didn't work this time. It took four of us to slowly corral her into the barn where we finally got ahold of her. About mid way through her pedicure she decided she was done. It was Allen vs. Strawberry...round two. I wrote about their first bought back on 1/4/13 in And then there were goats... This time Allen was sitting on a bucket in front of her holding her horns as I trimmed her rear hooves. Strawberry lurched to the right spinning Allen off his bucket to the ground, but he held on! She spun him completely around on his back in the thick straw bedding at least four times before we regained control! Allen is no little man, and that is one strong goat! She settled down and we finished her up. The three kids all got a trim this morning too. Afterwards, all were given treats for being such good patients, even Strawberry.

Thank a goat for that cup of coffee!



A Keurig coffee maker.

 If you are like me, no morning is complete without a good ol' hot cup of coffee. I have a detailed mental list of what to save should the house ever catch fire. No surprise the Keurig makes the top ten. We even took it along on vacation last year like a beloved family pet. In case you've never heard of them, a Keurig is a single cup coffee maker for home use.



I get up every morning between 5 and 5:30 with Allen and brew us each a fresh cup of coffee. He goes off to work and I cram in as many chores as I can before the kids wake up. Our entire morning routine revolves around that first eye opening cup of joe. Never in a million years would I have equated coffee with my cloven hooved, entertaining friend...the goat.  



The berries are called "coffee cherries".



Goats discovered coffee. Yes, goats! Actually, they discovered the energizing effects of the coffee berry. The 600 year old legend hails from Ethiopia and a goat herdsman named Kaldi. One day he noticed that his goats became energized and alert after eating bright red berries from a local tree. Curious of this effect, he ate some of the berries too. And to his amazement they had the same effect on him.



Kaldi and his goats.



Convinced the berries had miraculous powers, Kaldi took them to the local monastery for the monks to see. At first, they condemned the berries as a work of the devil and threw them in the fireplace. As the berries began to roast, that oh so alluring fragrance filled the monastery. Compelled by the aroma, the monks decided to pull the roasted berries from the fire and preserve them in hot water. Soon the curious monks had sampled the resulting 'coffee' and discovered its awakening powers. It then became a nightly ritual to sip on the brew to keep them alert during their night time prayers.

At least that's how the legend goes. I suppose coffee is somewhere between a 'miracle' and the 'devils work', at least in our house. All is 'glorious' after that first cup, and 'damned' if we run out!

Here is a link to the coffee legend, http://www.beanthere.co.za/discover/history/kaldis-coffee-discovery