Getting attached

We get asked a lot at the farmer's markets questions like "is it fun having goats?" and "do all your goats have names, do you KNOW all of their names?"

What people want to know (so it seems to me) is, are the goats individuals or are they just nameless faceless milk machines.

Well, the truth is that they all have names, they all have personalities and they are all cared for as individuals with individual needs, which is why we have consciously chosen to limit the number of goats that we have. Many goat dairies run herds in the hundreds. We decided that somewhere between 40-60 was our ideal number. We are comfortably within that number right now. We do not want to ever grow so big that we cannot give individualized care and "know" each goat. After all, this is a big part of why we got goats in the first place, the fun that owning them brings to our lives!

Although we know the name of each goat, and can rattle off her (or his) history, the fact remains that there are always goats that each of us finds...special, and gets particularly attached to. It is hard to define what it is that makes a particular goat special to a particular person. If you asked one of our children, usually you will get averted eyes and a self-conscious shrug along with the cryptic "I don't know why...I just like her." I don't generally, as a rule, get attached to babies. I know, a general cry of disbelief at my callousness is arising all across the Internet. Don't get attached to babies? How can that be? Has there ever been anything cuter than a baby goat? Yes, they are unbelievably cute, but my heart just doesn't do that flip-flop over babies. I may recognize that one looks particularly striking or get excited over the potential that a certain kid has but I generally do not get emotionally involved. For me, this takes time. I get attached over the long haul. Seeing the doe grow from that gangly yearling to a mature milker. Seeing her dam and grand-dam in the set of her eyes or how she walks is really satisfying to me and goes far to creating that bond of affection. But the babies? Cute yes, bonded, no.

Until Bug Tussle.

Two weeks ago today Sara discovered two preemies born to a first time mother. The smaller twin died. The second, though chilled, was quickly warmed (inside my shirt) and snuggled down in a little Rubbermaid tote where she lived for the next week, first at the foot of my bed, then in the living room. When Tim wanted to name her he pulled up the list of Texas towns that we had thought might make good goat names (all things on Swede Farm being given only "Texas" names). When I saw "Bug Tussle" I said it was perfect for such a tiny little bug. In the back of my head was the warning that I shouldn't get attached because she was still tiny and thus fragile, but that was hard to do, she was such a fighter. She had a personality bigger than, well bigger than the town of Bug Tussle. She was cute and quirky and oh-so-soft and sweet.

She lived exactly 8 days.

I have cried for almost as long.

To be honest, this is the main reason that I haven't really blogged in the past week. Every time the blog came up when I sat down at the computer I saw the picture of little Bug and I had to close my eyes and look away. When I did blog it was with the express purpose of getting the picture moved down further so I didn't have it staring at me. I have thought and rethought my preemie management skills and practices. I know some things that I will do differently should we ever have another preemie...but that won't bring back my sweet Bug.

Bug Tussle is buried in a small copse of trees visible from the front door of the dairy. We had not owned her mother long when Bug Tussle was born, just a few weeks, in fact, but she has quickly become a favorite of mine, because she reminds me of her sweet baby. So, because I got attached to Bug Tussle, I am now attached to her mother, Sadie. But then it is hard not to get attached to these goats. They practically beg for it.