| February
10, 2005: I’m taking a break from spring planting
to run a maternity ward and breast feeding clinic....for goats.
Growing vegetables for our community supported agriculture
program is my business but caring for a flock of goats is
my hobby. If my wife ran the numbers on what it costs the
farm to maintain my goats she’d probably object, but
I rationalize the expense of their upkeep because they eat
the poison oak that grows around our property.
Goats don’t have many problems kidding but it is a
good idea to be around for them in case they need help. I’ve
constructed nice rain-proof sheds for the goats to sleep in
and filled them with piles of clean, fluffy, yellow straw.
When a doe kids I like to be right there. I steal the kid
from the doe for a moment and dip it’s umbilical cord
in iodine to disinfect the wound, then return the kid to the
dam and watch. If the mother seems reluctant to bond to her
kid or the kid seems confused I’ll restrain the doe
and plug the kid on the tit until it sucks.
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| Kicker:
Caption here. |
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Nothing is cuter than a baby goat so this year we’re
planning to have a “kid day” for our CSA subscribers.
Our approach to helping our vegetable box subscribers bond
with our farm is to offer frequent small scale events that
are designed to appeal to different types of people. When
we have only a few people we can engage them on a more personal
level and answer their questions. This weekend we’re
having a winter soup event where people come down for a small
class. With the help of a friend who is a professional chef
we’re going to teach people how to prepare delicious
soups with the winter vegetables we all take for granted,
and just for fun we’ll do all the cooking in giant cast
iron cauldrons outside over an open fire. I’m going
to enjoy myself.
“Kid Day” with baby goats is going to be a bit
more work for me. Our goats really do eat poison oak and they
walk in it and sleep in it too. Plus, while my goats know
me, they are more or less wild and not easy for a stranger
to catch. My first idea was to invite our CSA subscribers'
children to pet our poison-oaky goats then sell the worried
mothers herbal soaps to wash off their children clean, but
Julia assured me this wasn’t even something I should
joke about. So this year, as soon as my tamest doe kids I’m
going to move her to a new, specially constructed poison-oak
free-petting-zoo pen. Then my own two kids, Graydon and Magdalena,
will be charged with the responsibility of playing with the
baby goats every day. This is one farm chore they’re
going to enjoy. That way, when our CSA’s “Kid
Day” rolls around my goat kids will be ready to handle
the affections of our CSA subscribers' human kids.
Besides eating poison oak and teaching children respect for
animals, my goats serve as my therapists. Every once in a
while I’ll get a farmers' market customer who enjoys
underpaying farmers for their work. I won’t bargain.
If I sense a customer doesn’t have much money I may
figure the price wrong so they get a break, but other wise
I set my prices as reasonably as I can and stick to them.
One afternoon, as we were cleaning up our market stall after
a day’s sales, a fellow came by and filled up his bag
with beautiful red and yellow corno di toro peppers.
“That’ll be six dollars,” I say, weighing
his purchase.
“How about three”, he replies.
“How about six?” I answer.
“If you don’t sell the peppers to me, “
he says, “you’re not going to sell them to anyone.
Three dollars!”
“You’re right, “ I reply, “I won’t
sell them to anyone. By the way, what do you do for a living?”
“Oh, I’m a doctor,” he says proudly.
Wrong answer. I remind him that if I show up as his office
is closing I don’t get my check-up for half price. As
for the peppers...
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| Kicker:
Caption here. |
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“I’m going to enjoy throwing these peppers over
the fence to my goats,” I tell him as I empty his bag.
“Maybe goats can’t pay for their meals but they’ll
crowd around me bleating and take so much pleasure from their
feast that I’ll feel like a gourmet chef looking across
a dining room of satisfied customers. You value your time,
but you don’t value mine. If I let you beat me down
three dollars that I deserve, just because you’re cheap
and I need the money, I’ll feel bitter all week.”
That was three years ago when I had five goats. Now I’ve
got eleven mature does and ten doelings. I have two kids romping
in the green grass of the maternity ward and three fat does
ready to kid at any moment. Before we’re done this spring
I may have as many as eighteen more new kids. My vegetable
prices have never been firmer and I feel good about what I
do.
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