Fast Friends

When we brought Gabe to live at the farm, we were a little worried. He is an angora wether, and, by all accounts, these goats are somewhat atypical in that they're not very hardy, nor are they as outgoing and boisterous as many of the goat breeds. We very quickly learned that he is, in fact, a special goat. While quite fond of people, as a former bottle baby, he nevertheless is extremely cautious and emits a definite aura of quiet wisdom as he seems to evaluate every situation from the back of the crowd. Gabe is almost always the lone goat, quietly sunning himself on a rock, and he is also the greatest escape artist, wiggling through holes and under fences with raccoon-like skill, soundlessly achieving freedom while the other goats jump, batter and climb the barriers with varying degrees of success and a great deal of wasted energy.

Generally he has done well. He isn't terribly sociable with the other critters, but he has carved himself out a niche, all the while growing his gorgeous, soft and shining mohair. He hasn't pined away from loneliness, as he has managed to get a good deal of human attention with his gentle manners and quiet determination.

This past winter, we came across another young angora wether looking for a home. Alvin had been kept as a pet, and had been living with an aging gelding for a while longer than he had ever lived with goat kind. His owner had had a change of circumstances and couldn't spend much time with him anymore, so she was looking for a good forever home.

Goat politics are an interesting thing. Sometimes they remind me of people, but most often, they make me think of cats. Every one of them is fiercely individualistic, and yet, they do form alliances, and friendships between them seem to be very strong, as are the bonds they forge with certain people. We had concerns about introducing Alvin to a goat world which he had never known, and we wondered whether he would be able to cope.

Only having had one angora goat, we had no way of knowing whether Gabe was in fact typical of the breed, despite what we had been told. Alvin seems to be the proof, as, despite being a little older and a little heavier, he pretty much mirrors Gabe's behaviour in every way, except for the escape artist bit, which seeing as there is nothing much to eat beyond the pasture fence, and there is certainly lots of tasty hay to be had within, no-one has much aspired to anyway. We will see, later in the summer.

Meanwhile, the two of them have settled into a steady friendship and go pretty much everywhere together. While they can't be brothers, I wonder sometimes if perhaps they are cousins somehow. I don't exactly know Alvin's pedigree, but it's possible that he comes from the same line as Gabe, seeing as there aren't really that many of his kiind in the province. More likely though, they get along so well because angora goats just like to do certain things in certain ways and having company is a wonderful bonus. At any rate, while Gabe was always a special goat with his loner habits, it is heartwarming to see him with a buddy: two loners, together.

Cashmere Dreams Part Two

Spring is a ridiculous thing. You can't feel it. You can't smell it. You can't see it. You certainly can't rely on any calendar to tell you that it is here. It plays peekaboo with your senses, convinces you to leave your jacket behind and then sticks an icy hand up your shirt back. it's here nonetheless, and the animals on the farm don't seem to need a thermometer to tell them what's going on. We are putting extra sweaters on under our barn jackets to go out to comb, because, above zero or below, sleet or snow or balmy sun, the goats are losing it big time. Their cashmere that is. It must be in the light, the couple of minutes the earth's movement is tacking on to the beginning and end of each day, because, like a magic boon from our goddess of the pantry, the hens have decided that it is now time to lay as well.

Kashew is the cashmere all-star this year, with a harvest so far that fills a zip lock bag that is about the same size as the carry-on bag I took on my last plane trip. It's a big bag, but we're afraid to weigh it. A volume that would cover a table top might only weigh an ounce or two. It's a kind of cashmere miracle, but it's still hard to get over that discrepancy between volume and weight.

Kashew's success with cashmere production is probably partially due to our new stanchion. Last year we were more or less free combing, and Kashew, sensitive soul that he is, decided that being combed was just too restrictive iof his goat-ly freedom. He'd do almost anything not to be combed. Kilo would be lying across our laps like a contented dog, soaking up all the attention, and even Gabe, the angora goat with the tangled dreads would let us pick away at burrs in his forelock, but Kashew would be hiding under the car or hightailing it for the barn the second he even suspected there were combs about. So we didn't get a lot of his cashmere.

It's a bit of a race, trying to get the undercoat collected before it just floats away on the breeze or becomes so loaded with the overcoat's coarser hair as it sheds out that it's unuseable, but hey, it's a race in the right direction. Longer days, warmer temperatures, more eggs from our underworked and overpaid hens, a good crop of luxurious cashmere - what a life!