....the last bit of milk from Thursday evening's milking of Ishtar:
Yup, that's all that's left. Technically there wasn't much anyhow (only a quart) as she's at the end of her lactation period and I was going to stop milking her once Nettie kidded and I had more milk again. But that really IS it. No more milk.
Because I sold Ishtar yesterday.
I've been going back and forth on what to do with her. Although she's a great milker, I don't particularly care for her attitude. Yes, I know there is a pecking order within a herd, but she's the Herd Queen that rules with an Iron Hoof. In my opinion, one does not have to be a total bully to be Herd Queen. Butting lower goats on the totem pole is acceptable, as is expecting to be fed first, petted first, led out to green pasture first. But Ishtar took her position as herd ruler just a bit too far. Maybe I was just being too motherly about it; can't everybody just get along?? But when Nettie was Herd Queen, there wasn't nearly as much pushing, shoving or head butting going on. Last year I even saw Ishtar pick up one of Nettie's week-old kids by the scruff of the neck and fling it across the goat yard.
So I decided to put an ad in the freebie online paper and got a call on her that afternoon. They came and got Ishtar that evening (darnit....maybe I should have asked for more $$). I wrote up all of Ishtar's information including date of birth, dam and sire, breeding date, anticipated due date, and list of shots she's had and dates when she'll need others. She will be part of a larger herd now; about a dozen other Saanens, Alpines and dairy crosses. They don't sell the goat milk, but use it to fatten up calves.
Although I feel like I should be saying that I'll miss her, I don't really feel badly. Feeding time last night was very calm and orderly. I didn't get trampled by Ishtar going into the milk parlor for her grain. I didn't have to sweep up the "undesirable" goat food pellets that she spits or flings out of her food dish and onto the floor. When I forked fresh hay into the feeder, there was no pushing or butting and I didn't have to scream "ISHTAR!!" at the top of my lungs.
So not only am I savoring the last bit of milk (at least for another few weeks), but I'm savoring the relative peace and quiet that has finally come to the goat pen.