On the Goat Farm
We spent 2.5 weeks milking goats twice a day in the beauty of the Norwegian mountains. To begin our Norwegian adventure in this way, was both odd and rewarding:
Odd, because one is feeling all the jet-lag, emotions, joy and pain that comes with landing in a new country that is to be home for the coming year. These feelings come to you, while learning a completely new and foreign job (and trying to pick up the language). The animals are uncertain about you, you’re a bit uncertain about yourself, and the people who hired you find you interesting and perplexing. No matter what kindness is afforded to you or even lavished upon you, you’re still at the end of a gravel road, with the wild nature looming behind you, among strangers; excited for all that is possible in the coming weeks, and yet missing being known and cared for by friends and family.
Rewarding, because we learned to milk goats!! We woke up at 5:30am every morning (except two that we had off) and 5pm every evening. First thing we would do is head to the barn to prepare the machines and get the herd in order. All 147 lady goats and 25 kids had to be moved around to different parts of the barn so the milking could go smoothly. We had to learn cleaning, testing, putting on what can only be described as utter pumps (ha!), observing when utters were empty, when a sunburn needed to be cared for, and how to hand milk if necessary (it was necessary for a couple of the girls). We also became acquainted with the quirks of the machines and a few of the individual goats. We had Scarlet, who loved scratches and affection, and one we called Twinkle-Toes, who by her reaction to the milking process, probably wished she wasn’t born a goat, but certainly liked the treats that came with the gig. We had to carry ornery kids, who refused to go to their pen, encourage the old ladies to get up from their naps, and also observed some very disgusting behaviors common to livestock.
We also gained some Norge-cred by doing some Hallingdal haying over a couple days. I don’t even know how to describe this, other than it is some of THE hardest work any of us has ever done. Basically, we spent hours raking hay on very steep slopes. By participating in this farming tradition, we felt much closer with the farming family. This is the true brutal work of farming in Norway. Milking goats is useful and, over time, it becomes a task of doing the same thing over and over, excellently. But the haying connected us to the land and the people who have worked the valley for centuries. They use a tractor now instead of a sickle for cutting,, but the people still rake the grass down the slopes. It’s no wonder so many Norwegians moved to the Dakotas. I can only imagine how excited they were to work flat land, after the grueling task of haying the mountains.
In the end, we had milked 7,155 litres from the lady goats, created silly handshakes, earned the respect of our ‘boss’ who said we worked like “land-people” (and is considering hiring Americans in the future!), had a great tan from all the hiking, swimming and outside time, had mad respect for farmers all over the world and enjoyed the satisfaction of knowing we had done it! In that awe-inspiring landscape, in the loneliness, we had worked together to do something none of us had ever imagined doing…we felt strong, amazed and relieved that it was finally time to go home to Al.
