If my previous post came off as naive, that wasn’t my intention. I’ve spent a lifetime in purebred livestock breeding circles, and I believe, as everyone should, that your goal should be to leave the gene pool better than you found it. Be a breed ambassador. Pursue the standard. Seek perfection.
Just don’t look down your nose at people starting out, people crossbreeding, people choosing grade stock over papers, people who can provide good and loving homes who lead with their heart over logic, people with modest goals…there are breed ambassadors and people who change the game…and there is everyone else. It’s okay to be everyone else.
I mentioned in an earlier post that I was there at the very beginning when Nigerian Dwarves first became commercially available in the United States, and when mini LaManchas were developed. I saw them then, and I rediscovered them years later after selling my goats to go to college, after starting a career, after getting married and having a family…and the goats I left behind are not the goats that exist today.
I am blown away in the best way by the quality of Nigerian Dwarves and mini LaManchas on the market today. If you weren’t there at the beginning, you wouldn’t understand. And that improvement, that forward progress, is thanks to dedicated breeders, calculated selection, aggressive culling, and time. Breed ambassadors pursuing a standard.
I saw a Facebook post today that was beautifully written and that perfectly illustrated the importance of having a breed standard, and breeding towards it. I didn’t screenshot it, and I probably can’t find it again. And I don’t want to steal their ideas without giving them credit. But if I can find it again, I will share it. It does matter.
But what I want to say is that there is value in starting where you are, enjoying what you have, and appreciating the journey. You can love the goat in front of you in spite of their flaws. Perfection does not exist.
I donated a handful of registered does and kids to a 4-Her new to a dairy goat breeding project once. My daughters had moved on to high school sports, and, with the best of intentions, I tried to pass their project–and all of the joy and satisfaction it had given us–on to someone else.
Some of the kids were squirrelly. My daughters had lost interest by that last year. But I’ve never had a squirrelly kid who didn’t settle down with regular handling. And part of 4-H is putting in the time. I thought a 4-Her starting out would do the work and get the satisfaction of gentling and training an animal. Trouble was, that squirrelly behavior became a reason to cull rather than do the work.
And they weren’t show stoppers. But they were a solid base to improve upon. The best lesson I learned from the 4-H dairy goat breeding project–which I participated in from 1986 to 1991–is that improvement is possible with every generation, and it happens quickly, because goats can be bred the year they’re born. It is deeply satisfying to watch that evolution.
I thought I did a nice thing, a good thing, giving a young breeder a start with registered stock sporting decent pedigrees. I didn’t. I did those goats a disservice. I regret it. But I can’t undo it. I wish that person had had the same vision I had, and that my gift to her had worked out the way I thought it would. It didn’t, and I have to live with that.
And with that in mind, maybe I’m wrong about everything.
Except I’m not. People love goats because goats are awesome. The ones at the petting zoo are awesome. The ones at goat yoga are awesome. The ones eating the weeds outside Amazon headquarters that get on the news are awesome. There’s the folks who breed for meat, those who breed for milk, those who breed to show…and people who just like goats and care for them well. There’s room for everybody.
Quit Mansplaining Raising Dairy Goats To Me: A Blog 