Scott Adams died today. I have a goat named Bigly–after Trump’s use of the word–and after Scott Adams’ book, Win Bigly.
Three-time Trump voter. (Don’t let the door hit you on the ass on the way out. And this isn’t an airport…you know the rest.) And I have loved Scott Adams since I read my first Dilbert cartoon. I’m kind of a wreck today. But then, I’m kind of a wreck every day. I keep failing, but I imagine it’s not too late to get something right. I didn’t always get everything wrong. I’ve just been in slump.
The inspiration for this blog entry is a Facebook post I saw written by a “big breeder,” someone known in the ADGA goat show world. They’re so well known that I can’t remember who they are, and I didn’t screenshot or save the post. But, as always, all credit to them. And being as they’re a bigger breeder, I imagine some of you will recognize the post I’m about to address. So be it.
Anyway, I read a brag post on Facebook, a virtue-signalling bit of slop, the gist of which was, “big name breeder” took a promising youngster to the National Show, youngster placed, applause all around…and they brought her home and put her in the freezer because she wasn’t correct enough for their program. Again, applause all around. Gag me. (The colloquial “gag me,” circa 1989. It probably means something else now.)
I don’t care what you do with your goats. They are livestock. The law supports your choice, the industry supports your choice, and, like you, I want to have and keep the right to dispose of my excess, or sick or injured, or dying livestock however I choose, so, I, too support your choice.
I’m just not going to give you accolades for putting a doe who placed at a National Show in the freezer. If you weren’t seeking validation and praise, you’d have just put the goat in the freezer without making a self-aggrandizing post about it.
(I mean, yeah, that’s the path to get to and stay at the top, for sure. But the path and the top are something different for each of us. Your standard isn’t “the” standard. That’s all I’m trying to say. As a top breeder, you’re modelling behavior that others will copy. Maybe not every one of them should.)
I hate the message you are trying to send. The message is a variation on that trite old chestnut, “It costs just as much to feed a poor quality animal as it does to feed a top quality animal.” And it’s true. And you’re right. But you’re doing all sorts of disservice to all sorts of people and all sorts of goats by sharing the message the way you share the message.
And this where I note I’m going to struggle to explain what I mean, and you’re going to get defensive and dig in, and I will be wrong and you will be right, but with your standards, my Jazzy would be in the freezer under a goat with a ribbon from a National Show, and my Bigly would’ve been gone at weaning.
Jazzy and Bigly and mom Dolce. Dolce’s still alive and living out her retirement here. She’s 13 this year. Dolce’s dam, Britney (as in Britney Spears), passed away at the age of 14, after also living out her retirement here.
Reminds me of a second big post from another big breeder (again, credit to the poster, though this one is vague enough and common enough it won’t be recognizable, and again, I don’t remember who it was), who had a valuable doe become infertile after a difficult delivery. When the doe couldn’t reproduce again, they chose to euthanize her after harvesting eggs or embryos (I forget which, but embryos autocorrected to embroidery, and that feels worth noting).
Modern reproductive technology is amazing and interesting, and I appreciated them sharing. There was a time when I lived and breathed reproductive technology, and the field has come so far since then. And no judgements for their decision to humanely euthanize an animal who could not longer earn her keep. That is ethical and wise.
I have chosen, whenever possible, to give my older does a retirement home instead. That is what feels ethical and right to me. It isn’t wise. It is expensive and time-consuming. But they gave me all they had, and because of that, so long as I can, I owe it to them. And I can. We have 160 acres, and we can provide for them. And they are my friends.
My Jazzy and my Bigly are nine years old this year. They will die here. They deserve that, for the joy they’ve brought into my life. They are amongst my favorites. The joy they’ve given me didn’t include a single blue ribbon, but one year Bigly placed second at the Cut Bank Creek Brewery goat races, and another year, Jazzy did. Those memories are priceless.
Jazzy was the product of a heart project. I started my herd with Alpine does, and I bred them to LaMancha bucks. Dolce is a 50-50 doe. Jazzy is 75% LaMancha. She is beautiful. And she was born with four teats. I was devastated. I scoured the rule book, I had my vet remove the extra teats, I bred her, I held my breath…and Jazzy had a son with extra teats. I never bred her again.
Jazzy does have a younger sister, Stevie. Stevie has two teats, and she gave me a registered daughter in 2025. And I’ll soldier on, with a chip on my shoulder and my heart on my sleeve, because these are the goats I gave my life to, and I love them. You’ll cry the same tears when you bury your National Champion that I will when I bury my second-place race goats. (And that day will come far too soon, because goats live tragically short lives.) If we get there, I’ll feel the same satisfaction with a fifth place ribbon in a grade class at the State Fair with my Alpine cross doe that you feel every time you get that letter in the mail formalizing a Permanent Champion.
Which one of us got it right?
Quit Mansplaining Raising Dairy Goats To Me: A Blog 