March Madness, or How I Nearly Lose My Mind Each Year

March 1: Day six of kidding. The girls must have really, really liked the buck we got them last fall because they are all kidding at the same time. Usually, it's spread out over two or three weeks. At this rate, it will be done by the weekend. Personally I think they are all kidding ahead of the blizzard predicted for tomorrow. We've had 39 kids born so far.

This morning I start up the milking machine for the first time this season. I'm up to 18 does milking, so even though they are newly fresh, it's time to begin retraining them in milking parlor etiquette. It will take awhile before they learn that only six can come in the milking parlor at one time, not all 32 of them. We had the machine serviced last week, just in time for milking season. The darling goats stood on it and broke off the pressure regulator.

Itπs a sunny, mild day, perfect for kidding. Most of the goats are outside soaking up the sun, allowing a little privacy for the birthing does. I only keep 6 or so replacement kids each year, and then there are the inevitable abandoned or special needs kids. They are all in a wooden cabbage crate under a heat lamp. The rest of the kids I leave on their dams. Itπs the easiest way for me to manage them, as all my culls get shipped to the Easter meat market. I no longer sell breeding stock, or raise extra does on spec. I just donπt have the room or the energy, and I need to free up the milk supply as soon as possible for cheese. I am also tired of the lifetime guarantee and 24/7 tech support that goes with breeding stock. I can never get back the value of the milk it takes to raise them, no matter what I charge. Itπs just simplest to ship them all and concentrate on a few. They get pasteurized milk and a lot of handling to prepare them to be good milkers. Today, one of my favorite old does has a single doe kid, so I take it away as a keeper, and she immediately steals a first freshenerπs twin as her own. The first freshener is clueless.

So far, I am happy with my first fresheners. With the exception of one which is being a helicopter and doesnπt want her udder touched, the others are allowing me to use the milking machine and are being very well behaved on the milking stand. The few pens I have are dedicated to the first (and sometimes second) fresheners so they learn what it is they are supposed to be doing with those kids. The older does I trust to take care of their kids, and they mostly stay out in the loose barn with the others.

As a doe kids, I clean up her babies, using towels and a hair dryer to fluff them. Dip their navels, record their weights, color patterns, sex, etc., in my kidding book. Mom comes into the milking parlor for a treat of a bucket of molasses water, and a beauty parlor treatment (foot trim, udder clip). Gives her a moment to bond with the babies as well. Each baby gets a color coded collar of a cotton pot holder loop. (You remember weaving pot holders when you were a child?) After several dozen kids, I'm out of color combinations, and have to go to using three colors at a time.... They last long enough for me to remember what kid goes with what mom.

Our friends Scott and Jen visited yesterday, and got to see some newborns. Itπs their first year with goats, and they plan to be licensed to sell cheese by summer. Scott remarks later that I seemed so calm. I replied more like dazed. I am doing all I can to encourage them in their new enterprise. We need young farmers coming along, and I need someone to make more milk for me!

Brad helps me put up plywood panels to close up the barn before the snow flies. I refill the grain barrel, and fill anything that will hold water in case the electricity goes out. I spread extra shavings, and bring a couple of spare bales of hay in, in case I can't get out to the hay feeders in the morning. Our wonderful neighbor Cheryl calls to offer her portable generator if we do lose power. My daughter Fiona, who is senior in high school, refuses to be stuck at home in blizzard, so she heads for town to spend the weekend with her cousins and friends.

Iπm not going to start evening milking for a few more days, but go down to the barn for one last check before turning in. Good thing. The kids are piling up around and under the water tank (which I fill with warm water during the cold months). It takes me half an hour to empty the tank, move it away from the wall, pack shavings underneath it so they wontπ crawl under it, and then refill it. While I am doing this, Echo is over in the corner delivering the 9th set of triplets for the year... All totaled, 5 does have 9 more kids today.

March 2: Blizzard. No school. I slog back and forth to the barn all day. Although I bragged to Scott that the goats wouldnπt kid during a blizzard (which they usually donπt), several just canπt wait, and over the course of the day, 5 does have another 11 kids. A sad site greeted me the first thing, finding two dead kids and two dried off but abandoned newborns, and two new mothers neither of which are claiming the babies. One is a first freshener that I hadnπt planned to keep, the other is one of my eldest does, that I planned to retire this year and not milk anyway. Her udder is shot, but her kids are usually pretty. I did not expect this behavior from her, and had been watching her closely to take her kids away.

I figure if a doe has given me ten or 12 years of faithful milking and lots of kids, they have earned the right to retire with honors and live out their life without working. Currently, I have two aged retirees. Milkers either prove themselves early and stay, or go early.

Itπs taken me over ten years of commercial dairying to find my comfort level of goats. When I began making cheese, I believed that I would just keep increasing the number of goats that I milked to make the cheese to meet the demand. That all came crashing down the year I freshened 60 does and my help quit one month into the milking season. I discovered that I cannot take care of that many goats and make the cheese and get it delivered by myself, and I resolved never to have more goats than I can care for by myself. Since then, I have found that 24-30 is my top number of goats that the barn and I can accommodate. The only thing that saved me that season was the wonderful helper, Jane, that I found midseason. She stayed three years, and now is managing her own herd of goats and making cheese.

March 3: We wake up to more than a foot of new snow. As predicted, it turned to rain at the end, making a horrible crust on top. Just like the last storm. We spend the morning digging out before it freezes so solid we canπt do anything with it. At lunchtime, we collapse exhausted on the couch and fall asleep! Weπre too old for this anymore!

Itπs actually not too cold outside, and the goats are anxious to get outdoors. As fast as I dig paths for them, they are behind me. The bravest of the new kids discover they can walk on top of the new crust.

I have been doing a farmersπ market on Saturday mornings this winter, but no one can make it today. Too bad, as I sure could use the cash, and I had promised customers that I would have goat cheese this week. Iπve been making cow cheese all winter, but since I established my cheese reputation with goat cheese, they mostly are polite, and say they will wait for the goat cheese!

Only three goats freshen today. That leaves only one more for this cycle.

March 4, Sunday: Milking goes well. I have a little milk so I can make a small batch of cheese. Today a family is coming to pick up two kids that I promised them in a weak moment last summer. The whole family comes and takes pictures of the pickup. They are really happy, so I know the kids will get a good home.

The bottle babies get their first lesson with the lamb bar bucket, and most of them catch right on. Sure saves a lot of labor when they transition to the bucket. I also do regular rounds through the barn with a bottle, and give any weak looking kid a little snack. Itπs amazing how quickly they recover and get on with kid life of dancing and leaping. Even some of the less than cared for kids learn how to steal milk and grow and survive.

I shovel and shovel and shovel and at some point realize that I havenπt been off the farm for over a week! During a short break, I finally have time to look over the pile of apprentice applications that have been piling up this week, and send off a couple of emails to a few of them. The last few years we have been extremely lucky with the apprentices that have come to us through the Maine Organic Farmers and Gardeners Assoc program. Usually, they are college students looking for some experience with some level of sustainable agriculture. We feel we have a lot to teach someone, and over the years, have developed an on-the-job training program for someone who is eager to learn about goats and cheesemaking. Some years, I interview many applicants before finding the right one, and some years the right one shows up right away. I am hoping for two helpers this year, and have one lined up so far.

The last doe kids, bringing the grand total to 31 does, 66 kids, in 9 days. Whew!

March 5: Some much needed shopping therapy! I am heading for Augusta for a farmer-mentor meeting hosted by MOFGA. We have some good discussions on how to attract and keep good apprentices. We also exchange some great stories of successes and failures. We all agree that chemistry is so important, and a face-to-face interview is extremely important. Against my better judgment, I have lined up a phone interview with an eager applicant who is just too far away to come to the farm. One of my former apprentices attended the meeting, and she is now the farm manager at an educational farm.

Home in time for evening milking, which begins tonight. Not much milk, but the goats have been eager to come in for that second helping of grain. The older ones have been puzzled why we havenπt started this sooner!

The temps are dropping and they are predicting the coldest temperatures of the season this week. It just figures. I get the kids all born fine, and then in March for heavenπs sake, we finally get winter. We had record warm temps in January.

March 6: Zero this morning. Back to work today. Did I mention that I work off the farm three days a week in the local school system? Lucky for me they understand about the demands of the farm, and last week when I called and said, donπt look for me this week, they were fine with it. I often am asked what are the challenges I face as a woman farmer. The answer that I always give, ≥The same challenges that face any small business person: finding good help and finding affordable health insurance≤ is not the answer they want to hear. They want to hear about strength or driving a tractor or not being able to get a loan. I would just like to be able to count on good help and have health insurance without having to work off the farm.

I hear back via email that one applicant has dropped out of the program. So sorry for not letting anyone know.

My darling daughter wants to take me out to dinner at a new restaurant where a lot of her friends work. I hurry through milking, and itπs so cold, the milking machine is starting to freeze up at the end. Iπm very depressed with trying to milk in the cold weather. I canπt do anything with gloves on, with gloves off my hands freeze. The udder wipes are frozen solid. All the goat poops freeze instantly into marbles, and jam the door, and make walking difficult.

Dinner with Fiona is a nice interlude in an otherwise miserable week.

March 7: Ten below zero. I milk as fast as I can so things wontπ freeze up. All the milking equipment is wrapped with heat tapes in a desperate effort to keep things thawed. The coveralls I have to wear restrict my movements so much that I canπt bend to put on inflations, and end up crawling around on my knees.

Iπm cold all day at work.

I wait by the phone for half an hour when I get home, and the applicant doesnπt call. Finally give up and go out to milk. It takes all my energy to get through milking. I hate March.

March 8: Zero. I get through milking without crying too much. I give Brad the bad news that we appear to have run out of grain, at least three weeks early. It was supposed to last til April. All I can think is that perhaps we didnπt get the full order last fall, and the goats have been eating more since the hay quality last season was so bad. We call Cheryl to see if she can come with her tractor and dig out the access road so the grain truck can get in.

It looks like I will have enough milk to run the pasteurizer for the first time tomorrow!

Wait again by the phone for the applicant to call, and am stood up again. I wonπt be doing this again.

The last two milkers are too busy fighting to come in to be milked. I go out to bring them in and one of them knocks me down on my knees, right on those marble-hard goat poops. I scream in pain, and my life flashes before my eyes. How can I farm if Iπve blown out a knee? We are all just one accident away from disaster. It is severely bruised and I hope nothing more. With a bum shoulder and now a bum knee, Iπm about 50 percent useful.

Iπm worried about the babies being cold. I keep pulling kids out from under the water tank, so I spend some time packing bedding under it so they canπt be pushed beneath it.

March 9: Zero. Worst day yet. I find five kids smothered and I just cry and cry.

I go out for more shavings and rebed the barn. Have to buy expensive bagged grain to get through the weekend.

At least itπs sunny and the goats spend a lot of time outside soaking it up

In the afternoon, I run the pasteurizer for the first time this season, and pack cheese for farmersπ market tomorrow. Fiona will cover the Rockport indoor market, while I go to Orono for our once-a-month farmersπ market there. My Orono customers are my most faithful -- they would come out in snowshoes if they had to. Of course, this time of year, itπs mostly the protein people who are there vending: beef, pork, chicken, lamb, eggs, cheese.

Hear via email that the applicant has taken a position on another farm. I find this incredibly rude that these young people cannot even follow through with a scheduled interview. I hear from another applicant that she wonπt be able to come for a farm interview, would a phone interview work (warning bells go off in my head).

March 10: Temps today are finally up in the 40s, and all the milking equipment works well. Itπs actually pleasant to be outside in Orono. We forgot however, that the university population is on spring break, so business isnπt as brisk as usual.

After market I stop by and visit with my friends Scott and Jen, and admire all their hard work. Itπs so nice to see a barn that hasnπt been chewed into sculpture by goats. They have beautiful Nubians, and itπs clear they are really enjoying being goat farmers. Iπm treated to a snack of Spanish cheeses that Scott has just brought back from a business trip there. They are building their cheese production facility in a building that can be moved if they find a larger farm. Very smart!

Fiona texts me that sheπs had a great market, and that I should just send her every week. I have no problem with that! Sheπs been doing markets with me for 13 years now, and she knows the drill. Besides, when her friends come to visit her, they usually bring their parents. She has learned so many valuable people skills: smile at the customers, make eye contact, rapid mental math and making change in her head. I will miss her so much when she heads off for college.

Home later than I should have been, so itπs nice to have the warmer temps to get through milking and chores.

March 11: Whose idea was this stupid change in daylight savings time anyway? It isnπt saving any of my energy, and I really need that extra hour on Sundays. This is the only time I have to do major barn work as it is, and half of today is taken up with a farmersπ market meeting.

Milking goes relatively smoothly, as the temps are up above freezing. I had hoped to have enough milk to make a batch of cheese this morning, but the kids are taking too much, so that will have to wait til tomorrow. I donπt really have enough time this morning anyway. Only enough time to scrub down the milking parlor and shift the crate kids out of the crate and into a pen before leaving for the meeting.

My neighbor arrives with the tractor and digs out the access road to the grain silo. Luckily, it has warmed up enough to make digging go OK. Underneath the snow is a layer of ice, where it all froze before the snow came. That should give the grain truck a little bit more solid footing than mud season would! Brad is prepared with buckets of sand to put down.

Then Iπm off to the farmersπ market meeting for the afternoon. We take care of a lot of market business, and Iπm home by chore time.

March 12: The ground firms up a bit overnight, so we think the grain truck can get in and out OK. Itπs always a heartstopper. One year, it slid into the ditch in the pouring rain, and they had to get the biggest tow truck in two counties to come pull it out. Attracted a huge crowd in the neighborhood to watch, and really thrilled our neighborπs little boy, who is a motorhead in the making.

There is no way I can get all my chores done, babies fed, to get to work in time, so I just email my coworker that I will get there when I can. Iπm only a half hour late. Not bad!

Brad emails me at work that the grain truck got in and out fine. What a relief! I guess itπs better that it come now rather than a month from now when itπs full blown mud season. Still trying to figure out how we ran out of grain so early.

Pick up Fiona on the way home from work, and we notice that the sap buckets are on the old maple trees that line our road. Spring must be coming!

I set up via email a phone interview with another applicant. I hate the thought, but this time I will do the calling, and wonπt be waiting by the phone.

Itπs been warm enough today to start the snow melting, and melt it does, right into the barn.

March 13: Another warm and sunny day. Too bad I have to spend it in a windowless computer lab at school.

March 14: Ditto.

I call the apprentice applicant at the designated time, and receive a very rude ≥this is not a good time, please call back.≤ Not bloody likely. Thatπs the end of that. I will not be doing any more phone interviews. If they are eager enough they can come for a farm interview.

March 15: Still struggling with setting my body clock back enough to get up early enough. I manage to get the goats milked and hayed and babies fed before having to leave for the next farmersπ market meeting this week. Iπm in six farmersπ markets and each one has at least two, usually three, meetings during the winter to plan for the summer season. This is the heavy meeting week, with four meetings scheduled. One of the markets I can never get to any of the meetings, as they are scheduled for evenings (exactly when I am in the barn milking) and an hourπs drive away. I canπt stay awake that late anyway! This particular meeting goes smoothly. We wrap up our business in an hourπs time, and I feel like I have been given a free half a day off. I see my old friend Pixie Day at this meeting, and find out sheπs planning another trip to Russia this summer. She has written about her trips for DGJ in the past, about sending some of her Saanen goats to Russian farmers. Itπs one of the most heart-warming and inspiring stories Iπve heard.

Fiona is home sick today, so I stop and get her some cold medicine and comfort food. When I get home, I actually have time to pick up the house in anticipation of a visit from one of last summerπs apprentices, on spring break from college. We canπt be doing everything wrong if our wonderful apprentices come back for lots of visits! Most of our help doesnπt start until April or May, so they miss the craziness of kidding season. I am glad this one has come back to enjoy the babies, even for a short stay.

In the afternoon, I run the pasteurizer and begin a batch of chevre, pack some cheese for market on Saturday, and continue cleaning the corners of the dairy.

The snow is melting so fast, itπs running in the uphill doors of the barn, and out any crack it can find. Thereπs no place dry for the poor goats. All those shavings I put down yesterday are already mud. Sigh.

Iπm just finishing up in the barn when Sophia arrives, so we end the day with a nice supper together, catching up on her year at college, and some nice beer she brought us from Vermont.

March 16: Up early to get the chores done before leaving for the next farmersπ market meeting. Feels like Groundhog Day. Some meetings, I lose track of which market Iπm at, as it all seems like the same old discussion, over and over and over. They are threatening a storm tomorrow, so we may have to go into storm readiness mode again.Weπll see.

The market meeting takes a little longer than the one from yesterday, with some heated discussion around annual fees. One of the things that does come up is the new information that here in Maine, it is the rule rather than the exception that a farmers market is an independent entity, and not sponsored by a city or other organization.

When I get home, we prepare for the storm. Filling water containers, grain containers, boarding up the barn again. If we get the snow they are predicting, then my farmers market and the meeting in the afternoon will both be canceled, and Iπll have a free day! Sophia decides to leave early, and get ahead of the storm, so we say our goodbyes. She promises another visit soon, and even to lend a hand if another apprentice doesnπt materialize. Fiona heads for town to spend the blizzard with friends.

I spend some time on the cheese, scooping out the chevre to hang, wrapping some cheese for market just in case. milk early and head for the house for supper and a movie. I also charge up the cell phones and laptops....

March 17: At least 6 inches of snow this morning, and in the time it takes me to milk, it changes from snow to sleet to pouring rain. This is the third coastal storm in a month that has dumped snow on us, then changed to rain. Itπs just not fair. Itπs already too late to shovel -- itπs like concrete. The wife of the neighbor who plows for us calls to say that her husband is away, and sheπll try to plow our driveway, but itπs just too much for her. Weπll have to call in the tractor. My footprints in the snow going to the barn are full of water when I come back. The goats are not happy.

One of the two goats who didnπt get bred the first time around appears to be bagging up. Sure hope she waits till itπs nicer weather outside. The other one may not be bred at all. Sheπs one of the older does, 12, so if not, she can be retired. But she fools me every year by not appearing to be bred, and then popping out a kid when I least expect it.

Luckily, the morning farmersπ market and the afternoon meeting are canceled, so I get a free day! Perhaps I can catch up on all the work I volunteered to do for markets: website updating, brochures, press releases. Oh yes, and the Cheese Guild newsletter. Anything I can do during the offhours and doesnπt require sitting by a phone.

We find out in the afternoon that roads all around us are washed out. When I take the dog out later in the day, I can hear the roaring of the water washing down the shoulders, and into the woods. Iπve never seen anything like this in the 20 years that Iπve lived here. The road up the hill above us is totally washed out, and people are having to walk the half mile in. The water is pouring down the path to the barn and into the barn. I have to spend some time ditching the path to divert it away from the barn door. The goats ≥out≤ door from the milking parlor is flooding into the milking parlor.

Another stack of apprentice applications arrives in the mail, and I send off some emails in hopes of finally making a connection.

March 18: Sunday is my day to sleep in a bit (translation: one hour) and the day the rest of the world thinks is Open House at the farm. Weπre expecting a stream of visitors today, including my sister bringing their exchange student for a farm experience (spare me), another former apprentice, and my 82-year-old father with his house guests. We are on the tour circuit, both for family and for the neighborhood. There is no hiding when the kids are born, as anyone driving by can (and do) stop by the side of the road and watch the kids antics. If Iπm lucky Iπll get half done what I need to get done today. Luckily, Iπm not scheduled to work tomorrow, so I will make cheese then. My sister is picking up milk for the goats milk soaps she makes that I sell at farmersπ markets.

I am also expecting my first delivery of sheep milk today, from my friend Perry Ells at nearby EllsFarm. She has one of two licensed sheep dairies in the state, and lucky for me, only five miles away. I had been trying unsuccessfully for years to find an outside source of goat milk, so when she came to me looking for a market for her sheep milk, I said what the heck! Sheep milk makes beautiful cheese, so I have been able to expand my product line without growing the herd. I am still looking for goat milk to make more goat cheese, but no luck yet.

When Perry brings the milk, she reports that her barn and her milking parlor flooded yesterday, and today the floor was like a skating rink. My friend Scott reports that his barn flooded, unfortunately while he was away, with an inexperienced farm sitter dealing with it. I havenπt even heard from Cheryl yet, but suspect the worst, as weπve seen an excavator go by on a flatbed this afternoon. Her pigsπ Quonset huts must be full of water.

Itπs nice to see all the visitors, but Iπm tired. And did I mention that Jet kidded today? One more baby to deal with, but this just might be the last one.

March 19: The river running through the barn is frozen, so the goats slip and slide in and out of the milking parlor. So much for the fancy, non-skid vinyl we just put down in the milking parlor.

Busy day today, making cheese and maybe doing the deliveries I have been unable to do this weekend. I think today is the day the farm supply guy does his rounds in my neighborhood. I need new milk lines and udder wipes.

I sure hope this is the last of the winter weather. I am really struggling this winter with dealing with it all. Itπs not that this winter is particularly worse than any other winter, itπs just that Iπve had enough. I am seriously strategizing how I can change things another year. Since Fiona will be out of school there is no reason for me to even be here in March anymore. Traditionally, I have bred the goats early enough to ship the kids to the Easter meat market, but the last couple of years, that hasnπt brought premium prices by a long shot. I could breed for later kidding, and go somewhere during the worst months. Vicki Dunaway, who publishes Cream Line, has found a nice apprenticeship in Hawaii, and that sounds like a perfect deal to me! Iπd love to find a cheese learning experience in a location where the sun shines and the temperatures donπt go below freezing. I certainly canπt go any further behind financially than I am now. Or, we could winterize our apprentice housing and have the seasonal help come earlier to lend a hand. Somehow it seems easier to send me someplace warm than to try to find that elusive perfect helper. Or, if I ever find an alternate source of goat milk for the cheese, I could cut my herd back to just a few pampered pets, and not have the work load at all. And Iπll keep buying lottery tickets.

Caitlin and Brad Hunter and their daughter Fiona raise Alpines in Appleton, Maine. Theyπve been licensed as Appleton Creamery since 1994. Caitlin has been raising goats and making cheese since 1979, and previous to moving to Appleton in 1988, raised goats on Matinicus Island off the coast of Maine.