the end of an era

...or...

in loving tribute to my French Alpine dairy goat Makala

Tomorrow my goat Makala will be euthanized. She has had painful front hooves for a number of years and has gotten to the point where she cannot walk on them anymore, but instead hobbles around on her knees (carpi). She would have been 15 in February, which is a ripe old age for a goat.

I showed sheep in 4-H for a few years before I had goats. The ultimate 4-H showmanship competition was called the round robin where the top two showmen in each species (hogs, beef, dairy, goats, sheep, meat goats) competed against each other and showed every species and it was kind of a big deal. There were so many people showing sheep in those days that it was very difficult to make it to the round robin in the sheep division. I decided to branch out and show goats when I was 14 or 15 which was convenient because someone had just donated a goat named Aphrodite (Afro for short) to my mother because she saved the goat's life after roaming dogs nearly took her life (true story). So we bred her and I planned on showing one of her kids in the fair. However, that year Afro happened to have a buck and a hermaphrodite (what are the odds?) Luckily, I found a goat lady nice enough to loan me one of her does to show. Her name was Jazzmine and she was a beautiful doe and not only did I win champion dairy goat but I also won best dairy goat showman and was able to compete in the round robin. Lo and behold, I actually won the dang thing. Those were the glory days. With my taste of fame, I couldn't stop there. I purchased Jazzmine's granddaughter, Makala.

Afro and her two kids.

I loved having goats and seeing the kids (so cute) and don't remember minding the milking all that much (thanks Jessie for splitting it with me). I wish I knew back then how delicious goat cheese is so I could start to learn how to make it, but alas, I was a teenager and what teenager do you know that wants to make goat cheese? I used to love preparing Makala for the show, bathing her and clipping her hair down close so you could see all her sleek curves (although I did hate clipping off her goatee) and shaving her udder with a razor and oiling it up. She really was a beautiful goat. I think I may have won grand champion goat with her too. She knew her name and I would walk in the far side of the animal barn at the 4-H fair and call out "Makala" and I could hear her calling back to me.

Young Makala. Apparently I though it was ok to wear short shorts.

I was looking through one of my 4-H project books from 2000 and to answer the question "What have you learned from yourself by taking this project?" I answered "I have learned that dairy goats are my very favorite animals and I hope to raise them for many years to come."

There was also a question "What have you learned about your animals from the records you kept?" where I answered "I learned that dairy goats need quite a bit of grain to be able to milk." Which is a lame answer and I am pretty sure it is lame because I never kept very good records and just made stuff up the week before the books were due. Hm.

Makala and her two kids. One of those is Mayzie Lou who survives her.

Then I grew up and left home and for the most part forgot about her until I would visit home and trim her hooves. She was a good goat and I am grateful for her and that, because of her, I still want to have goats in the future. Next time I will learn to make cheese.

My parents have been good enough to give Makala and her daughter Mayzie food and shelter for the past 11 or so years I have been out of the house, and I am grateful for that. (Not to mention the food and shelter they provided for my goats while I was still living at home. They pretty much paid for everything and I was just a free loader. Some things never change.)