Taming of the nigoras

In September I purchased two nigora goats from White Fireweed Farm, a three year old F1 doe, Belta a third year freshener (hopefully presently bred), and her 3/4 angora doeling, Olga Petunia, who is now 10 months. They were pasture goats, enjoying free reign of many acres of pasture in the summer. They are pretty wild and unaccustomed to much human contact. I knew I was facing a challenge when I bought them with an intent to milk them.

Living in semi-remote coastal Alaska presents some transport difficulties with obtaining livestock in itself, not to mention the fact that Alaska is huge and the goats were 12 hours away by road alone. Add on to that another 2-3 hours aboard the ferry. And consider that that 14-15 hours is just actual in transit time, not including the waiting, the overnighting, the stops, and the general slower pace at which traveling with a toddler requires. I planned the pick-up in Fairbanks in conjunction with my return from a lower 48 trip in order to reduce overall travel, but neglected to look into the state ferry schedule, the last leg of the trip home. The ferry we were counting on to get us home had been postponed another 4 days! Long, drawn-out explanations aside, the poor goats ended up spending a total of 6 days in the back of the truck! =( Not a good start to our relationship! The confinement, combined with an unpleasant attempt to get them some fresh air in Anchorage (resulting in Belta running around the suburban streets of my mom's neighborhood while the school bus dropped off junior-high kids! yikes!), made for a flinchingly uneasy introduction to life with their new people.

So when I first brought them to the farm, I didn't have a whole lot of time to gently get acquainted with them right away. I hadn't completed their quarters, and life with a toddler while Daddy's working on the tug boat doesn't leave a whole lot of time for leisurely time with the animals. I hadn't finished buttoning up the garden for the winter either... I kept repeating the mantra "there is only one me" to remind my self that I can't do it all. 

For the first week or so, they'd pretty much hurl themselves against the opposite fence when I went anywhere near them. They seemed to enjoy the chickens, so I decided to show them that the chickens liked me. I sat in the yard and let the chooks give me their kind of lovin'. I worked around the goats without giving them much attention, just to let them get used to me at their own pace without exerting too much pressure on them. And I kept leaving them forage: raspberry canes, outer cabbage leaves from the garden, parsnip and carrot tops. 

Belta and Olga keeping a safe distance from Evil Me

Belta accepting raspberry leaves from Evil Me. 

Unexpectedly, Olga is taking longer to warm up to me than mama Belta.

I try to not be in a hurry about them liking me although, seriously, my heart aches to be able to touch their fiber and have them love me like the goats we had before. We've had them for about a month now and the other day I realized that I had better start making some progress with them, especially Belta whom I hope to milk after she kids in January or February. So this week, I started putting my son on my back and taking him with me to grain them, so we could try waiting it out until they eat out of my hand. To my surprise, a few moments after I knelt down in the pen, my outstretched hand brimming with grain, Belta approached closer than she had ever before braved. She sniffed a bit, and chowed down. I refilled my hand three times, and during this time Olga snuck up but didn't get involved. 

I've been feeding Belta about a cup or more of grain out of my hand at every feeding (twice a day) for about 5 days now. Then I feed the rest in two separate dishes, and this way I'm ensuring that Belta, who is hopefully pregnant, after all, is getting a bit more than Olga at each feeding. Last night I tried to scratch under her chin while she was munching, but I think she still needs a bit more time- she pulled back. I'd like to have my other hand free so that I can try and scratch her between her hornbuds, but she eats so fast that I have to refill my hand rather quickly. And she's still stretching her neck waaaay out to reach my hand; we're not quite pals yet. But, they don't leave the shed when I come in, or even dart out their popdoor when I enter their quarters to refresh water or hay. They know when it's grain time, checking me out as I dole out their individual portions. Belta approaches the gate when I'm done, knowing to expect some hand feeding. Olga hasn't braved it out yet, but I'm sure she will after she's confident that her mama knows best.