Annies Goat Hill Handcrafted Soaps

I never grow tired of this scene. Right now, today I look out the office window and see a similar view (as the one from this summer photo). My girls are gathered around, soaking in some December sun. Some are chewing their cud, some just curled up for a nap, some are playfully butting heads. Most are motionless, obviously very relaxed. And I consider them beautiful.

What is it about a goat? Why do I feel compelled to allow the warm goat kisses on my nose each day? Why do I stand still hoping for the daily nibble on my nose, or the sniffing of my neck? Why do their friendly, inquisitive eyes draw me in?

We raise boer and dairy goats. Amongst the dairy, the nubians outrank by numbers. This admission can cause silent, and not so silent wars amongst “goat people,” but I’ll openly admit that my favorites are the nubian does, especially the nubian doelings.

I bottle raise every dairy kid born on our farm. My original dreams were to open a commercial dairy operation. I have not given up on that thought, however, for now, the Ohio red tape is daunting, and I am satisfied with using fresh milk in my soap, lotion, and cheese. I then have just enough milk for the dairy kids and the few boer kids that happen along and need human intervention. With all of this being said, dairy kids tend to adopt the human parent, the one that provides the feedings, especially the nubian kids. They can be quite noisey, with some of their “Mawwww” bellows, but I certainly do not mind. They are a special animal. Loyal as in pets (trailing behind like a loving dog), yet graceful and beautiful as in a deer, and silly as in no other species!

Am I in love? Yes! Am I blessed? Yes! Even in these challenging times, I find ways to make sure the goats stay. I try to take each one and hold them to a purpose. They have a job to do, each and every one of them, and for me the job extends out to a daily dose of caring for the animals that I love.

It was a cold, damp, miserable morning and both of my friends needed to get to work. I received the phone call for help. Please come rescue this orphan, raise her on your farm. The question was worded, “Can you come and help? Helen (a school teacher) needs to go to work!”

Was I ever nervous! We brought her home with the bottle of frozen colostrum (I still have the tiny bottle). We made sure she was dry and comfortable, then we left to buy some kid supplies (nipples and milk replacer). We arrived back home to what we thought was a dead kid. Annie slowly opened her eyes, apparently from a good rest. We jumped for joy. Silly people, we were!

As Annie grew up, she loved to sit in my lap and chew her cud. She weighs in now at 150-170 pounds, too large to sit in my lap. And now she even has an attitude. But she is still our first bottle baby, and she will always be special. Special enough to be the farm mascot.

I didn’t note in yesterday’s blog, I will do an ingredient article weekly (at the minimum), hoping to write them more often!

Have a wonderful Saturday!