Even the Goats Obey Him!

 Last night I had to be on call to help milk our lovely brown goat named Heidi. She had given Hannah no end of trouble in the morning when Hannah tried to milk her. The goat had gotten into the feed the day before and gorged herself, so she did not want her feed that she usually gobbles down while we milk her. I  even tried to hold the goat's back legs to keep her from jumping and kicking, but it did no good. She jumped and kicked anyway. After getting almost as much milk on our coats as we had in the pan, we finally gave up with only a pint of milk.

That evening I deccided to do the milking. Maybe for some reason, the goat did not like the way Hannah milked her, I wondered. So I started milking, and Heidi, latched into the milk stand, started kicking. She kicked and kicked, jumped and jumped. I stayed on my feet instead of sitting down, as sitting there would have been a disaster. I was clutching the milk pan in one hand and milking with the other, jerking the milk pan out of the way anytime the goat's hoof came up too high, lest it end up in the milk. My chin was way too close to Heidi's rump, and I had to watch so I would know when she was about to jump lest I get my face bucked into. I milked and she jumped. I milked, and she kicked. I pleaded and begged, gasped and gritted, scolded and even yelled. I even gave her a little smack once, just a little one because I knew very well that even the biggest smack in the world wouldn't make her behave. 

I would gladly have just left her unmilked, but you are asking for mastitis or other problems if you do not milk a goat out regularly. Finally, in utter desperation, I cried right out loud, "JESUS, PLEASE HELP THIS GOAT SETTLE DOWN!"

As I continued milking, the goat jumped again. Just once.

"Maybe she wants hay," Hannah said, hustling off to get some hay from the loft. Suddenly, I was milking and the goat was being quiet. I was milking, and I could hear the rustle of hay in the loft. I was milking as fast as I could, and the goat was just standing there. Was she listening to the hay in the loft? What had made her be quiet?

This morning, the same thing happened. In the absence of the mighty hunters who usually do the milking but are away hunting elk and deer, Hannah milked Frannie, the easy goat, and I came out to milk Heidi, the hard one. Again Heidi jumped and kicked. Again I hung on and kept milking. Again I had to cry out, "Jesus, please help this goat settle down!" 

And just like that, she settled down. Not another kick out of her. 

"What manner of Man is This, that even the naughty brown milk goats obey Him!"