Aug. 4th, 2005
The 4H goat barn at our local county fair has an event each year where you can pay some money and milk a goat. One year as a youngin' (about 3 years old) my mother tried to get me to milk the goat. I was way too freaked out by the thing to do it, so she did it instead but gave me the little ribbon that said "I milked a goat!". I had to hear this story for years from her, as she told it to many people, about how I was scared and wouldn't milk the goat.
Last year I returned to the goat barn, after over 20 years after the trauma had occurred, and I milked a goat. I was all excited about it, but it ended up being quite disappointing. I'd scoped out the goats beforehand, and I saw some nice squeezable udders. When I stepped up to the plate to milk the goat though, it's teats were shorter and similar girth to my little finger. Not only that, but apparently the goats had been shown earlier in the week, and apparently they shave the udders before showing them. So she'd had a few days to grow some of her udder fur back, and it was all stubblely and prickly. I grabbed them as good as I could, but was only able to produce a couple small streams of milk.
An event like this needed to be documented, and there's a few shots of it on my flickr account. They stopped giving out ribbons and switched over to crappy computer printed stickers that say "I milked a goat!". I can't believe I spent 50 cents for that!
Also there's my other goat story where I was in a petting zoo as a teen and was attacked by a bunch of goats. There's pictures of that too, but I keep those hidden.
© 2019 feltup.org