Nigora goats 1: beginning the adventure

Although we wrote a post when we first got the goats, We decided to do this one from a different perspective as part of a series on what it is like to have Nigoras, how their fleece and fiber works, and how our system has evolved. Stay tuned!

I remember, years ago, hearing about pygora goats. I had this vague idea that cashmere could only be produced in far off places, but here was a goat in America that produced cashmere! This was especially thrilling because while I love wool, I often find anything but merino and cashmere too harsh on my skin.  The problem, for me, was that pygora is a dual purpose meat and fiber breed and meat holds no appeal for this particular vegetarian. The bigger problem was that I was in my early teens, and not very good at convincing my parents that any sort of livestock was a good idea.

Fast forward a large but unspecified number of years, when I started wondering why, if you can have a dual purpose goat, you couldn’t go for milk instead of meat? I soon stumbled upon the Nigora goat breeder’s association - a group working on developing a new breed from a cross between Nigerian dwarf dairy goats and angora goats, with ultrasoft wool, and good milk production. They immediately went to the top of the bucket list for our homestead.

In getting my better half to agree, I was strategic: for her birthday, I took her to a farm that sold tickets to a feed the goatlings event. 

Once an eager Nigerian Dwarf kid has perched on your shoulder, it is hard to say no.

It took awhile to find someone selling nigoras within driving distance (6 hours!), but I got on the waitlist for kids born in the spring the September before they were due.  It was lucky I did, because North Branch Abby had a glut of bucks, and only two does that year, both of which had my name on them.

Since you have to choose the names for the registration before you meet the goats, we went with Escape and Artist - Esky and Artsie for short. We drove the 6 hours and stayed in an charming bed and breakfast in Smethport, PA.  When we told our lovely hostess we had come to pick up goats, she looked rather nervous and asked if they were in the car.  We assured her, much to her relief, that we would pick them out on the way OUT of town.

Now, by the time goats are ready to leave their mothers, they are no longer the itty bitty darlings that climb into your lab and become youtube stars.  But they are still darned cute.  They protested mightily when grabbed by their former owners and shoved into the back of our car. 

They continued to protest intermittently for the 6 hour drive.  When I finally got them home, they promptly discovered a gap behind the sleeping platform and proceeded to disappear for a day.  

By the next evening, they were out from their hiding place, but they clearly had their suspicions of me and I couldn’t blame them - I was the one responsible for the worst day of their lives. We then commenced a routine that reminded me forcibly of the days in my childhood when I tried to get chickadees to eat out of my hand after reading some nature book or other. Since I had the attention span of a flighty six year old, I never could stand still long enough to get it to work.  Fortunately, the goats were much more curious than the chickadees, because Esky was soon not only approaching to nibble the treats, but also to check whether my shirt was edible.  Artsy was harder to win over, but with her herd mate’s example, she eventually gave in.