Goat Harvest

I am so lucky to be surrounded by amazing, strong, bad-ass women all the time.  Guys are great, don't get me wrong, but at this moment in my life it is the women I am surrounded by who continue to amaze and surprise me.  Before I continue this excellent post, I must warn my reader that what lies ahead is not entirely pretty and there may be some images that invoke bad feelings, so please proceed with caution.

This evening I bore witness to the slaughtering of a goat.  The goat was killed with a handgun by a man, the fiance of a friend of its owner.  He rode up on a Harley Davidson but was all kind words and mild manners, as he walked away form the scene I saw him wipe tears from his eyes.  The purpose of harvesting this goat was for meat to be traded to a nearby (5 miles away from the farm at most) family-owned winery for a traditional feast.  The young buck was named Pinot because from day one the owners knew that he would one day become a case of wine.


A woman I have heard many tales of, by the name of TJ, came to butcher the beautiful animal.  She is a young farmer interested in primitive or ancestral skills.  She does a lot of hide-tanning and animal processing, so Lis hired her to "process" Pinot.  TJ was extremely focused and no-bullshit about the whole thing without giving the impression that she took herself very seriously.  Right after the goat had been shot and its neck cut and bled out, she instructed me to take the bowl of blood and whisk it in the kitchen for ten minutes without stopping.

The moment the goat was shot in the head and the few moments following, I worked hard to fight back tears that would easily have come gushing, but I felt such an obvious display of emotion would have been inappropriate for the situation.  Once the animal was strung up, and as it was cut open and skinned it became less and less of a living being, baring more resemblance to meat and science. Over the next two hours or so I hung around and watched as she meticulously skinned the goat.  After the animal was totally processed, it was time for me to milk the girl goats, Allegra and Unicorn (a.k.a Unique, a.k.a Pretty).

When I walked into the barn with young Heather who helped me milk, the relationship to the animal was completely different.  Milking involves a certain degree of tenderness and sensitivity to the needs and desires of the goat.  Of course, harvesting the animal requires the opposite emotions.  The surprise, for me, came from my ability to switch back and forth between these two modes of being so seamlessly.  There we were, three women standing around this large skinned animal as if it was nothing and ten minutes later I found myself milking another one just like it beside a child.  Yet there was no incongruity, only a sense that this is how humans have been living for a very, very long time and pride at being the type of woman who can fulfill such differing roles on a homestead.