Goat cappuccino

Yesterday I had a break-through with Bebe my milk goat. Every morning for the past few weeks, come milking time, I would have to catch Bebe. This involved chasing her through the goat pen, trapping her in the chicken house or under the stairs. Then I'd drag her upstairs and literally pick her up and put her on the milking stand. It made me feel like a real asshole.
My goat advisor had told me that having a milk goat is a delicate relationship. On one hand, you're providing them food and water; on the other, you're nursing from them as if you are a baby goat. The mom has to accept you as a legitimate milk-taker. I think Bebe's been trying to figure out who the hell I am, and finally relented.

Today she came running up the stairs and jumped onto the stanchion, ready to be milked. I nearly wept with relief. Who wants to be the asshole all the time?
Though Bebe has tiny teats, she's pretty easy to milk. Instead of using my whole hand to let down the milk, I use two fingers and my thumb. Sometimes I sit to the side and milk her, but I think she likes it better when I sit behind her. it's easier for me, too, because I can reach both teats. My hands cramp up a little bit, but they're getting stronger. I love milking, Bebe's rumen rumbles, she eats some oats and chews her cud, waits patiently. Her udder is warm, her flank is a soft place to rest my head. She milks out about 2 cups of milk per milking, which is really all I need.

One of my chief reasons for getting goats was to have milk on hand at all times. There's just something about that creamy substance. Harvey Considine, a man who once had 500 milk goats, said, "there are only two substances designed solely to sustain life without having a life of their own: milk and honey." It truly is an elixir. I've been drinking it straight, making yogurt, and enjoying the best coffee drink ever: a goat milk cappuccino. The milk froths up pretty well, which makes me think it's in the range of 8& fat.