milking
I decided to try to document the milking process, although it's hard take pictures and milk at the same time. So, not many action shots here. Here's what the milking parlor looks like before the goats come in (I meant to take an after shot, but forgot. Let's just say that it's a lot messier). There's room for two goats on each raised platform, so four goats can be clipped in at a time, although we can only milk two at a time. The goats come in through the sliding door that says "GOAT CHEESE."
The goats can tell from the noises coming from the milking parlor that it's time to line up, so they start jostling for a place on the ramp. The system mostly works pretty well, although sometimes they end up pointed backwards or jammed two abreast. I usually try to let in five milkers at a time, and as many non-milkers as want to come in. But it's hard to control the flow, and once a goat gets her head under the door, she won't back up no matter how hard you push. Once I accidentally let in eight milkers at once.
Once the goats are in, I clip each one into a station. Then I strip the teats of each goat, which just means squeezing out a small amount of milk. It removes contamination that might have built up at the end of the teat, plus it gives us a chance to look at the milk as it goes into a filter cup. If the milk looks weird, we milk the goat separately and discard the milk. Then we wipe each teat with an udder wipe. The goats are very patient with all of this and most of them don't really acknowledge you at all, but a few of them will raise their left foot when you're handling their left teat, and their right foot when you switch. I think it's sweet--it's like they're trying to help make everything easily accessible. Josephine, one of the first-time mamas, sometimes just doesn't want to be touched. She'll dance all over the place, twisting on her tether. When she's in a mood like this, C says to just skip her--she'd rather give up the milk than traumatize the goat.
After stripping and wiping, I hook up two of the goats, and the milk starts getting pumped into the can.
After each goat finishes, I unhook them and either let them hang out and eat more grain, or push them out the door, depending on how well-behaved they are and how crowded it is. Once outside, They have access to hay and water, and they're not able to circle around and come in a second time.
The goats produce an average of half a gallon of milk per milking, so if I milk eight or ten goats, the can is still comfortable enough to lift and pour. When I'm ready to empty the can, I switch off the nozzle things (I was taught to milk by E, the other apprentice, so I don't know the proper names for anything).
Then I take the can and empty it into a filter sitting on top of a bucket which has been sanitized with a bleach solution.
Right now we're filling just over three buckets with the evening milkings, and a little more than that in the mornings. The milk production has passed its peak and is now declining.
While all of the milking is going on, there are non-milkers (babies, retirees, and goats that didn't get bred), who also come through the milking parlor. They can stand at a milking station if there's room, but there is extra grain by the door for them to munch on.
As each goat comes through, we check their names off on the list on the whiteboard. If we notice any health issues (limping, bleeding, hoof needs trimming, etc), we can make a note and C will address it the next time she milks (she milks every morning). Each year there's a different naming scheme; you can see some of the goats from the wine year and the Harry Potter year. This year's theme was bread. Each baby is given a name that fits with the theme, and their name starts with the same letter as their mother's name. So Rowena has Rye, Josephine has Jellyroll, and Paloma has Petit Madeleine.
The goats can tell from the noises coming from the milking parlor that it's time to line up, so they start jostling for a place on the ramp. The system mostly works pretty well, although sometimes they end up pointed backwards or jammed two abreast. I usually try to let in five milkers at a time, and as many non-milkers as want to come in. But it's hard to control the flow, and once a goat gets her head under the door, she won't back up no matter how hard you push. Once I accidentally let in eight milkers at once.
Once the goats are in, I clip each one into a station. Then I strip the teats of each goat, which just means squeezing out a small amount of milk. It removes contamination that might have built up at the end of the teat, plus it gives us a chance to look at the milk as it goes into a filter cup. If the milk looks weird, we milk the goat separately and discard the milk. Then we wipe each teat with an udder wipe. The goats are very patient with all of this and most of them don't really acknowledge you at all, but a few of them will raise their left foot when you're handling their left teat, and their right foot when you switch. I think it's sweet--it's like they're trying to help make everything easily accessible. Josephine, one of the first-time mamas, sometimes just doesn't want to be touched. She'll dance all over the place, twisting on her tether. When she's in a mood like this, C says to just skip her--she'd rather give up the milk than traumatize the goat.
After stripping and wiping, I hook up two of the goats, and the milk starts getting pumped into the can.
After each goat finishes, I unhook them and either let them hang out and eat more grain, or push them out the door, depending on how well-behaved they are and how crowded it is. Once outside, They have access to hay and water, and they're not able to circle around and come in a second time.
The goats produce an average of half a gallon of milk per milking, so if I milk eight or ten goats, the can is still comfortable enough to lift and pour. When I'm ready to empty the can, I switch off the nozzle things (I was taught to milk by E, the other apprentice, so I don't know the proper names for anything).
Then I take the can and empty it into a filter sitting on top of a bucket which has been sanitized with a bleach solution.
Right now we're filling just over three buckets with the evening milkings, and a little more than that in the mornings. The milk production has passed its peak and is now declining.
While all of the milking is going on, there are non-milkers (babies, retirees, and goats that didn't get bred), who also come through the milking parlor. They can stand at a milking station if there's room, but there is extra grain by the door for them to munch on.
As each goat comes through, we check their names off on the list on the whiteboard. If we notice any health issues (limping, bleeding, hoof needs trimming, etc), we can make a note and C will address it the next time she milks (she milks every morning). Each year there's a different naming scheme; you can see some of the goats from the wine year and the Harry Potter year. This year's theme was bread. Each baby is given a name that fits with the theme, and their name starts with the same letter as their mother's name. So Rowena has Rye, Josephine has Jellyroll, and Paloma has Petit Madeleine.
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