Beauty, Darkness, and Dairy Goats
"They either jumped the temporary fences or died inside of them, eyes looking out, piercing beyond the electric impediment, soul drifting to where their feet failed to carry them."
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Beauty and Darkness
We had purchased a herd of dairy goats from our midwife when Morgan struggled to nurse one of our children. We felt vulnerable, exposed, unnatural, like the sun failed to rise and left us searching for shadows, probing in the darkness for even darker forms that foretell the light. Something to give us hope.
Goat milk is similar to human milk and is easier to digest, to a degree, than the alternatives.109 It has high levels of minerals (namely, calcium, magnesium, zinc, and potassium) and medium-chain fatty acids, an ingredient often added to infant formula that has been found to treat low levels of cholesterol in the blood.110 Supplementing with the milk would help.
“It’s a good idea,” I admitted to Morgan over a breakfast of charred eggs. “Goats have wide palates and do well on wide forages. They eat weeds and such, I am told.”
“This landscape is wide, yes, it is perfect for them,” she replied, barely above a whisper. Her gaze drifting elsewhere, across the room, floating over sun speckled dust, landing on a sleeping bassinette under the window. The many cotton blankets calling in the dust and reflecting the sun, warmth holding that which is warmest. “I just hope it is deep enough.”
A year passed but the struggle remained, albeit permutated into new forms. We struggled to pull any milk from the goats who struggled, equally, to produce it. While we daily rotated the herd between the forest’s edge and its nearby meadow’s undulating respites, we seemingly could not move them fast enough. They either jumped the temporary fences or died inside of them, eyes looking out, piercing beyond the electric impediment, soul drifting to where their feet failed to carry them. If they got out, which most did, they would winnow the forage on the other side, selecting a bite of this and a nibble of that, or they would go straight through the cracked door of the feed barn and gorge on chicken feed.
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