Baby Goats!!!

Les Petits Cabris Naissent!

A bit later than many others, the baby goats in Aurelie's herd are plopping into this world. Jonas and I were there on the second day of birthing. And a dramatic moment it was.

On the spur of the moment this morning, Jonas decided to stay with me rather than go to class. After the exertions of Tuesday, I was fine with one more quiet day before he returns to the hustle and bustle of friends and school. But, today wasn't a day for hanging in the house and watching films (yesterday he saw the Karate Kid). I let him know that our day was to be spent at the goat cheese farm, lunching and visiting with Isabelle and Paul Pierre whom I've seen but once since Christmas. Thus he needed to be calm, well-behaved and patient. I'd care for him, but he needed to be a good kid, easy to have along in a grown-up setting.

He was quite okay with the arrangements, so with fresh bread from the oven, a bottle of JP's organic rosé Domaine Cabanis, animal cards and crayons for Jonas and some rice milk for his tender stomach, we were off.

Forty-five minutes later we were there. And lo and behold, we had arrived at a most special moment.

Aurelie was in the barn with her new stagiaire calmly and competently busy. I saw that there were some babies, but it took me a second to realize that they were in the midst of accompanying a mother goat push out her baby. Just as we entered the stalls out slipped a new kid.

Is there anything more symbolic? Spring is here! The world is being born again. La vie renait.

Jonas watched in awe and then, as we awaited a second birth (the mother was to have triplets), we went into the far pen where the kids born the night and day before were gently nudging about alongside their protective mothers.

There was but one kid per mother. And I learned later from Paul Pierre and Isabelle that there had been a few accidents the day before.


Aurelie doesn't live at the farm with her goats (as yet) and has two small daughters to care for. She wasn't able to return to the farm the evening before till 9pm to attend the late night births. Unfortunately, there'd been a few before her arrival, and in one case a mother sat upon her new kid, in another it was long in coming, and in another... I didn't get the whole story, but a few kids were lost. However each mother was left with one. And in the end, the herd is there to produce milk, not goat kids. As long as the mothers have one beneath them to release the colustrom and get the system rolling, all will be (relatively) well. It is sad to have any new life depart too quickly, but in fact, Aurelie's herd is already quite a good number (45). Multiple births are typical in this herd. Singles are the exception. And one must always remember that as a general rule, all the baby males will be heading to the abatoir within a couple of weeks... Thus, it is all relative you might say.


As we watched (and documented), the mother goat pushed out the birthing pouch, then Aurelie slid her hand around the little feet that were poking out and assisted the head that followed. Goopy, bloody and oh so fragile, another life arrived upon the hay.


Then Aurelie felt the mother's belly and sensed more small feet. A third kid had yet to arrive. But the mother had stopped pushing. She was caring for her first two, licking them clean, gently manouevring about them. Aurelie was a bit worried and slathered her hand with some oil and slipped it into the mother up to her elbow. She felt the last kid and helped it out. He was limp in her hands, soft, as if his bones hadn't firmed up. He was dead. Malformed apparently, but nearly full size. She quickly whisked him away -- the mother barely realized that she'd lost one of her mini-brood.

It was then time to snip the bits of umbilical cord dangling on the bellies of the new kid, and and help them nurse for the first time. Once that is handled, the goat farmer can sit back a moment and take a breather. Till the next mother starts dropping her kid (which happened a mere 30 minutes' later.)

Nine down, thirty-six to go...

Day One making cheese

I arrived early this morning to be able to spend a bit of time with Isabelle and Paul Pierre and their family before joining Aurelie (their former intern, now the resident goat-cheese maker) for the morning milking, la traite. Isabelle has just finished five days of chemo, and is clearly exhausted and much affected by this most recent round of treatments. I’d thought she was on more paliative care now, but, I suppose it is difficult for an oncologist to not wish to do the utmost with his arsenal at hand. I hope she’ll be better when I visit next week. Her weariness is deeply visible in her eyes, and in the hesitancy with which she approaches breakfast: coffee or chocolate, bread or no, jam, and which flavor. In each case her husband encourages, suggests, does for. He waits a bit, but sees that if she’s not nudged towards a choice, she’ll simply shut down and stop. She’s mentally in and out, almost mini-naps with her eyes open. As she puts it her head is dans la pâté.

And yet amidst this moment of sickness and family intimacy, I've been welcomed to share, to learn, to participate. I tell little stories, but keep them short. I'm attentive to her level of energy, and seek a smile or two, but go no further. It is more aptly a time for quiet and simply being together.

When the sound of Aurelie’s arrival reaches the kitchen, I clean my coffee cup and walk the short trip from the kitchen to the barn to watch and most importantly, to do. Aurelie is relaxed with me, at ease and pleased that I'm eager to get in and mettre mes mains à la pâtee" as we say here ("get your hands dirty" is the closest equivalent in English). I’ve watched so many times, but had never laid my hands upon the milking machines, nor the teets aka mammary glands aka breasts, called mammelles here.



The first gesture of the morning is to prepare the small mangers with yummy feed. Today it is organic corn, but normally, there is a blend of soaked corn and soaked and sprouted barley. ¾ of a coffee tin is put into each manger. Then the goats are allowed to come up to feed. They are all waiting, in their pecking order. As with many animals there is a world of hierarchy amongst the goats. The first goes up the ramp, all the way to the furthest manger (the only one open to her) and puts her head down to eat, triggering the mechanism that locks her in. The next follows suit, and the next, etc.,

The next movement is to do a quick squirt of the premier jet, putting it into a bowl that the dogs will enjoy. Then, the clean and prepped milking suction cups are attached to the teets. There is space for 12 goats at a time to feed, and 4 sets of suction cups. To each her turn. Aurelie massages the warm, firm teets to help the goats with let down. The younger goats often release their milk slowly, whereas some of the older seemed to have double the milk. Teets come in all shapes and sizes, but those of these goats were all-in-all pretty easy to place into the cups. I had memories (doesn’t every mother?) of massaging my painfully full breasts to send milk flowing into Jonas’ mouth when he was a newborn – he was a particularly bad nurser. In any case, touching and handling these goat teets felt normal and quite pleasant. Beyond helping in the milking, the goat cheese maker/shepherd also does this to better know his/her goats, with all their individual quirks. For instance, spotting a cyst requires knowing what the normal teet felt like before the cyst appeared. It is good to learn to distinguish the firmness that is a sign of full milk ducts, or simply lumpy bumps, or something to worry about etc.,

Aurelie is using the system and structure designed by Paul Pierre and Isabelle when they set up their business here twenty two years’ ago. With their design and architectural backgrounds, Isabelle and Paul Pierre were creative and originals, yet observant of known-methods. The plumbing, the flow from barn to milking station to barn, a system for soaking and subsequently straining the barley. This all takes place in the barn.



The fresh milk is then transferred to the dairy on a small trolley where it is put through a strainer into 15 litre bins. These are placed on shelves made of 1 ½ in PVC (rows of 2). Into the full bins of fresh goats' milk -- that she did not cool down -- Aurelie puts an eye dropper of rennit (6-7 drops per litre), and a ladel-full of whey from an earlier batch.



The dairy is kept at 20C (70F) and the now treated milk will sit for three days and ferment gently till the curdle is nicely taken. When ‘ready’ the curdle will be a solid mass amidst a clear liquid, with a fuzzy white skim on the surface.



My next job is to remove day-old cheeses from their molds and place them on stainless steel racks – as neatly as I can, leaving a minimum of thumb prints, rubbing off a minimum of cheese, and--as my skill-level permits--place them in neatly staggered rows. I did my best,... and gratefully, Aurelie is a very patient teacher.

While I was handling these more solid of cheeses, Aurelie was flipping out and returning to the molds the far softer and more humid cheeses from the evening before. (Goats are most often milked twice daily, and so the cheese-making can occur twice daily).

I moved my firmer cheeses to the de-humidifying room, and the molds to their large baskets to be first doused in a bath of acide de soude, and then into the dishwasher. We then hosed down and cleaned off the two meter by one meter stainless tilted trays upon which we put the cheese molds. These drain directly into open plumbing, and down the drain. In some farms, the whey and small milk solids collected in this manner are fed to pigs – a source of protein-rich liquid for their feed. Yet another example of the intelligence and non-waste possible on small, multi-animal family farms. However here, there are no pigs, and thus the whey is treated as gray water, dispersed through the septic system.

Once our sliding trays are cleaned (there are 6, but this being August, we’re nearly at the end of the season, and are using only 4), we set up the cleaned molds (those that have chilled) in rows of 5 x 6. Upon these we place the stainless grid that permits to fill many molds at once. Aurelie takes a large quart/litre sized cup and uses it to ladel the curd from the bin into the molds. However first, she has gently poured out and brushed off the excess whey and the white fuzz atop. Her cheeses will be milder in flavor if she does not include the last. With a squeegee, we finish filling through the grid – filling the molds to nearly over-flow. A couple minutes’ wait is required as the curd descends, the whey already escaping through the holds of the molds, and then we transfer the grid to the next batch of 30 molds. And so on.



This morning, August 23, we milked 36 goats and made 130 cheeses with the three-day-old curd. We filled three 15 litre bins fully, and a fourth perhaps 7/8 or 5/6 full of fresh milk. Yesterday’s milk, alongside (but distinctly placed apart) the milk from the day before yesterday are quietly fermenting away.

Immediately after the milking we cleaned and rinsed the suction cups and tubes, followed by the molds, bins, etc., A last gesture is to spray down and squeegee the terra cotta tile floor. Aurelie has prepared her packets of cheese that she distributes Monday in weekly crates of fresh vegetables and more organized by a local AMAP (farmers’ coop).

There were three of us, and two hours later, we’re free to be off to other projects. Not so bad, eh?

A marvelous Mediterranean gathering in N. Michigan

Let it not be said that this part of the world does not know how to eat! A feast of wondrous proportions, shared by gentle and fascinating folk with the braying of happy goats and a gobbling turkey as musical accompaniment occurred Friday last. Joy, generosity, happy children, a perfect summer evening, and warmth both affective and atmospheric were the order of the day. Not a jell-o salad in sight. Garden fresh produce, lovingly wrapped pastries and grape leaf rolls. Home-made bread, local wines and rich local ice cream from a favorite source.


How precious to share such moments, and such food! And following Michael Pollan's most recent observation, those who cook from scratch don't take up two seats. But their eyes shine, and their arms reach out, and laughter is quick to come. The children explored the farm, aped animal voices, and happily ate brown bread, sweet butter, and just a wee bit of salad -- in anticipation of the ice cream of course.





Mary and Dick -- the goat cheese makers of Northern Michigan -- invited Nancy and Bill (cook and artist), Meg and Jerry (textile artists), Nel (culinary wonder and Meg's daughter), Nel's two daughters and her brother and his friend, Mary's daughter, and a few lovely other folk to partake in and share this feast. I was a last minute add-on with my boys, and most happily so.