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One morning, having finished devotions and still enjoying a cup of coffee, I found myself doodling.  Often my doodling amounts to a thought for an article or even a new book.  Sometimes it's a sketch for a drawing or painting, I'll probably never get around to; but not that morning.  In less than 10 minutes, there was a picture, as well as a list of supplies.  I sat back and looked.  What I had drawn was what would become new shelters for the goats.  When relocating to Goshen, I decided I didn't want a big barn or pole shed, as too much heat is lost in the winter.  A local flea market had these wonderful wooden boxes that made the best goat sheds, but since they were boxes, there was no watershed and the elements have taken their toll.

I figure the current boxes, pictured above; have one more winter in them, providing the snow isn't too heavy.

The new design has already been prototyped and is now slated for mass production.  So far, there are only two, but two more are cut and ready to be assembled.  This teepee design is great for heat conservation, as well as watershed.  The design has no waste in production and there's even a special little spot for babies to tuck in a corner with minimal heat loss.

As you can see, the doorway is on opposite sides, so these can be placed nearly face to face with walking room only, to offer windbreaks at the openings.  I'm pretty much picturing about a dozen of them randomly placed in each pasture.

The greatest thing about these structures, as if more is needed . . . They are portable, which means no muck!  Just pick them up and move them to a new clean spot, scatter some clean straw and voila, nice clean accommodations without shoveling!

A Bad Monday

The day after sharing Yom Teruah at a local gathering, I got rattled from my crown to my soles!  It seems everything went crazy Monday evening.  I've heard others talk about bad Mondays, but I'd never really considered myself to have a bad Monday, until the 14th of September 2015.  The phone rang before 8am for no emergency whatsoever.  So although I was thankful for no emergency, the ringing could have waited until a less startling time of day.  My mornings are pretty introspective and quiet until closer to 9.  As a rule, in Goshen, the only sounds before 8 am are roosters crowing, ducks quacking, and coffee perking.

Hank, ever vigilant but always reasonable; went berserk on the new guineas, chasing them into the timber . . .  He wasn't trying to eat them or anything, just scattering them out of the yard.  I had a very heated, strong word for him.  I'd never seen him act so intensely before.  I accepted when the guineas had roosted in the timber that some of them would be prey for the owls.  I didn't necessarily accept it graciously, but I did accept it.  That rattling was emotional and disappointing, but there is a certain amount of loss when it comes to free range poultry.  I'm still recovering from the next one.

Leroy Brown, the buck I bought in early September at the livestock auction has taken his job very seriously.  He is what is known as a "working buck."  That is the socially acceptable way to say he is openly displaying every mating ritual of his species . . . constantly.  Buck goats have some pretty odd rituals, and bear absolutely no shame in demonstrating them.  I've learned to live with the musky scent that seems to hang over the entire place through the autumn.  Some goat breeds have a breeding cycle throughout the year, while others are seasonal, like deer.  Having a mixed dairy herd, I try to keep a buck of the breeds that have seasonal mating, rather than year round.  I usually keep the buck in the north pasture after breeding season and through the heavy milking season, but Leroy Brown has already be "rehomed."  His work here is done!

 When Leroy arrived, he was docile, to the point I wrote about how amazingly docile he was for an older buck.  Then, he realized there were females . . .   The gate will never be the same.  Leroy is leaving the Land of Goshen with a few memories permanently etched.  The once straight metal gate is now bowed beyond straightening and I have a couple of fingers that appear to have a new shape as well.  In all fairness to Leroy, he is still very docile toward me, but he cannot be trusted around the gate.

Back to the evening after Yom Teruah.  It was chore time and I had been able to move the does as they "came in" back to Leroy's pasture for just a couple of days, then when breeding was accomplished, bring them back up to the front.  A buck in the pasture really taints the flavor of the milk.  I can't explain it, but it's a proven fact.  So, I've been keeping the milkers time with the buck, limited to "strictly business."  It was all going pretty well for the first few days, but then it happened.  I was moving one doe into the Leroy's pasture, when Leroy was right there at the gate with his eye on a young doe right next to me.  The young doe is at that awkward age, old enough to come in season, but too young to breed safely.  A buck in rut cannot or will not be reasoned with.

It's all just a horrible painful blur now, as I was letting Cherie in the back to spend a little time with Leroy, he had his eye and intent upon Rhoda who was standing right next to me, on the opposite side of the gate  The instant the gate was opened for Cherie, Leroy rammed it, and my hand was immediately caught between the gate and the fence that runs perpendicular.  As he backed up for a second shot, I knew I had less than 3 seconds to get something done, so I got my hand free, grabbed the gate with all my might and stood for the second impact.  By then I was running on pure fear and adrenaline . . . but by the grace of G-d, after he backed up focusing for the third hit, I did get the gate latched.  He hit it a third time, then I secured the second part of latching, looked at my bloody mangled hand and knew I had to finish milking anyway.

The next day, as I was trying to peck out an article I heard Abba clearly speak to me, directing me to go outdoors, look directly at Leroy and tell him in the Name of Y'hshuwah I have dominion over him.   The old saying about putting "feet to my faith" was never more clear than it was at that moment.  I also knew, immediate obedience was required for promised results, so . . . I got up, went outdoors, went through that gate to Leroy's side.  He was down near the pond, but when he heard me, he came striding right up.  I stood holding my walking stick in my injured hand, raised my right hand and declared precisely what Adonai had told me to say.  "Leroy, in the name of Y'hshuwah I have dominion over you."  He stopped, he stood, and then he gently approached me.  I petted him, went to the gate.  I then told him there would be no more raucous at the gate.  I walked through without incident.  Every day he talked to me, he ate out of my hand, and he stood by that gate every evening at milking time . . . but he simply stood.

As for the guineas, in my time of injury, I really wasn't on top of everything I needed to be around here.  One day there were none to be accounted for.  I couldn't see or hear a single one.  I prayed, asking Abba to please watch over the ones that were left.  The next day, half of them reappeared.  The number isn't great, but perhaps if I'd prayed sooner, it would be larger.

In spite of a bad day, I don't believe Mondays are inherently bad.  Meanwhile, the reality of The Word has replaced being rattled.

Thou madest him to have dominion over the works of thy hands; thou hast put all things under his feet:  All sheep and oxen, yea, and the beasts of the field;  The fowl of the air, and the fish of the sea, and whatsoever passeth through the paths of the seas.  O YHWH our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth!    from the 8th Psalm

Unexpected Timing to Answered Prayer

This week has been, well in a word, interesting.  The timing has been quite unexpected.  The other day, I asked Abba a very direct question.  It was a question, long overdue, but I think my heart just wasn't quite ready to hear the answer, so I opined intellectually and psychologically.  When I asked the question, to be really honest, I just went on with other topics of prayer and found myself literally shocked to tears when the answer came so quickly.  I was driving at the time, and was within a mile of my destination when the answer came.  I had asked a question of Abba, and I figured the answer would come when reading my Bible or in my own stillness.  There have been only a few times, when I heard Abba's voice like a bolt out of the blue while driving and those times are memorable.

Unfortunately, this particular answer, although somewhat expected; was not one I really wanted to hear just minutes before being in a public place.  Isn't it interesting how we want to hear from G-d, we want to know that we know, then when He does answer right away, we aren't ready for the answer?  We know His sheep hear His voice.  Once I cried through and calmed down, I was truly thankful to be able to hear Him and to have heard Him so quickly.  Now, in my usual humanness, I hope for more of this, His voice that is.  As I had my Psalm 6:6 experience that afternoon and evening, I was blessed to realize I needed this information and I'm so thankful He's allowed me to have it.
I am weary with my groaning; all the night make I my bed to swim; I water my couch with my tears.  Psalm 6:6

The next day, I got to hear Him again, only this time it was something that brought a smile.  All summer I've been watching Craigslist for milkers and they simply are not in abundance or they are miles away in other states.  It could be everyone is planning to hunker down and be ready to be self-sustaining.  Milk goats are just not plentiful this year.  I decided to keep one of the spring bucklings for a herd sire, so I couldn't keep the doelings . . . I've got a couple of girls that are getting on up in age, so I've been watching for just a couple.

The other evening I went to the goat auction, but knew a friend was going to be there also, and he'd already told me what he was looking for.  Abba had told me to not bid on the first one I thought was a good one.  He said my friend was such a gentleman, if he saw me bidding, he'd stop.  Sure enough the first one I saw that was bid-worthy now belongs to my friend.  He graciously shared some milk with me and it is delicious.  So, back to what I heard Monday.  A gentleman had just posted on Craigslist his downsizing a working milk herd.  There were a number to choose from.  As it turned out, they were just over in the next county and both girls are beautiful, adjusting nicely, and producing well.  They are both less than four years old, so they should be love assets to the Land of Goshen for some time to come.  I knew, I needed to have a herd of 12 to be ready, and as of Monday, there are 10 nannies and two young bucks.  Within 24 hours, I had two answers.  I'm so glad I rejoiced in hearing Him, even when the news wasn't good.  I'm sure if I had become angry in the first answer, I'd have never heard the second one.      

An Unexpected Blessing

In practical preparation, I'm still stumbling a bit when it comes to the goat herd.  I get a bit sentimental and go with my emotions rather than spirit and intellect, and that doesn't go well.  Last fall I purchased a nice young doe.  I knew she'd kidded probably once, maybe twice at the most, so no more than a three year old.  I bought her for her color and her ears.  The fact that she was mixed breed was obvious, so I knew I was already one generation ahead on the Jacob's herd.  She was a bit on the wild side, as in I couldn't touch her, but I just knew she was one for Goshen.  All of the goats here, don't have to be milkers, some just produce future milkers.  Knowing Buddy was getting to that ornery point all bucks come to, he was going to be leaving, but I liked his bloodlines.  Actually, I was planning to breed her to Buddy, in hopes of a buckling for a herd sire, but Abba had a different plan.

As it turns out, she was already bred when I bought her.  She kidded before she'd been here five months, which is the gestation period for goats.  The early arrival has resulted in a blessing beyond what I had hoped.  First, it was not a buckling, but an unrelated doeling with the ears I'm aiming for!   My big Oberhasli doe had a fine buck, as did one of my Nubians, so Buddy's bloodline shall remain in the herd.  With the new goat, Cherie, kidding an unrelated doeling this means the herd, if I remain obedient, is two years ahead of being on the way to a Jacob's herd.  If course, the first kid will belong to YHWH, but what a blessing to have such young blood in the herd now.  And there is more . . .

Cherie began eating out of my hand after she became a mom, but was still skiddish.  Knowing I was keeping her doeling, Tamar, I left Tamar on Cherie without even attempting to separate them to milk.  Since the mama had never been milked, I was hesitant to separate them, as I didn't want any health problems if the mama was uncooperative.  Here's where it gets interesting.  When I separated them, Cherie went back to being untouchable.  I understand that!  After all, I had taken her baby.  So catching her to make sure her udder stayed healthy was quite a task.  So much of a task, I considered putting her kid back on her.  I got a lead on her, finally.  We dragged each other to the milking parlor.  That is no exaggeration!  When I was ahead, she was digging in her heels and then she'd sprint forward and I'd be trying to keep up.  I coaxed/bribed/cajoled, and even lifted her onto the stanchion.  With great expectation of a real raucous, I grabbed the bucket and sat down, planning my strategy.

Her udder was tight, and her teats are short, but that goat never flinched, never offered to kick, nothing!  She stood there nuzzling my neck and ear while I milked her.  She was treating me like her kid.  All that hoop-ti-la in the pasture and then a perfect milker.  She has actually started calling me at milking time and although I still use a lead, she walks right in, takes care of business and walks back out.  I think this is what Abba meant when He said to "prepare practically!"     

Goat Tight

HalleluYah!  I got to stay home all last week.  I never left the place!  This week, however; is another matter.  I now have a ministry opportunity in Oklahoma for which I'm so excited, but that means off the place pretty much the entire day.  Then there is the business day in town, that really must occur at least twice a month.  I'll be enjoying guests for the next couple of weeks, then I believe I'll begin hearing and likely seeing perspective "communityites."

The gentlemen who built the deck did a fantastic job.  My old deck with goats lounging on the steps was just a little too "Dogpatchy" for me, so I wanted the gate at the bottom of the steps.  These gents accomplished that with ease, but the gate being low, we weren't sure if it was actually going to be goat tight.  We all three saw the possibility as they were preparing to add the balusters, so the gate gained some height.

It was great, but . . . these goats are tricky!  Watching them size up the gate, I got a tweak idea, for which I thanked Abba.  

 

The deck is goat tight!

Just as soon as I find the right chaise lounge, I'll be enjoying a few nights under the stars, in "practice for Sukkot."  I can already "almost hear" a great evening of midrash and music!

Shabbat Morning Calamity

Although it was not an ox in the ditch or an ass in the pit, this was a calamity that had to be dealt with, none-the-less, on Shabbat.  With calf bottles in hand, I opened the door to discover a strange sight awaiting me.  It all happened so fast, I probably don't have an accurate head count, but there were no less than six satisfied goats lounging around ON the front deck.  They were relaxing and ruminating in what little clean space there was.  At the sight of deck pots, flower pots, and uprooted plants strewn amidst the goat excrement, I simply lost my mind.  One war hoop and the deck was cleared!

Unfortunately my shock and awe awakened Mr. B, creating two situations to deal with, but I digress.  The gate to the deck was simply beyond repair, and upon surveying the plant damage I simply went back in the house and flung myself, face down, on the loveseat in tears.  It seems life has been exhausting with hindrances and extra demands since Pentecost.  I know this is spiritual and I'm just worn out.  The last two weeks have tried my patience!  Committing a sin physically is not usually a major temptation, but I can definitely speak before I think.  Or I should say, speak what I've got no business speaking, much less thinking.  More than anything, I really want victory over my tongue and do not want to say something that would bring dishonor to Abba.

I do still struggle with thoughts that do not need to be entertained.  I'm the type of person who doesn't usually entertain thoughts of overt sinning, but rather can lend my mind to rumination and consider what I could have said . . . With my entire deck garden destroyed, there was plenty of negativity bouncing through my brain, but none of it was aimed toward Mr. B . . . at the time.  I went ahead and completed my chores and by the time I returned I was somewhat calmer.  Since the damage was done and the goats knew they were in trouble, the only thing left to do was to apologize to Mr. B for waking him.

I came in to find him sitting in the glider.  I went on, grabbing a cup of coffee and heading to more Sabbath readings.  It then occurred to me that I should check to see if any of the plants had simply been knocked out of their pots, as that could be interpreted to be an ox in the ditch.  With plenty of now empty pots, it didn't seem that I would be breaking Sabbath to set plants back upright, if there were any.  I headed back through the living room to find Mr. B staring and asked him what was wrong.  He then proceeded to tell me how discouraged he was and how exhausted he was that there was so much hard work involved in this homesteading.  Mind you, this is the day after I'd taken him to lunch two days in a row to celebrate his birthday.  It was then, that I realized this discussion could definitely wait until after Shabbat.  I simply stated to him, that I was sorry his birthday had worn him out and I needed some time to nurse my own discouragement, as I was the one who had planted all those plants and dragged them in and out every winter and spring for the past few years.

He and I both realized this front deck calamity was not going to change Shabbat, which we do not spend together anyway, so it was time to wrap up the interaction before it went bad.  He began to say something that sounded like whining to me and I simply stated if he was tired, he should go lay back down.  I was not willing to watch him turn my crisis into his drama.  {Fortunately that thought did not fly out my mouth.]  I then headed outdoors to see if any plants had survived and lo and behold, there were a few herbs that apparently didn't appeal to goat taste buds.  I do have to admit, I secretly hoped the jalapeno plant gave one of them a little heartburn on rumination, but other than that, I did get through the Sabbath without regrets of my own behavior or words.

Although the deck still bears the aftermath of the calamity, I do believe saving uprooted plants ranks right up there with tending to an ox in the ditch.

Mathematics of the Farming Industry

The other day on social media, a video went around, showing a mama cow bellowing to proclaim the "horror" of the dairy farming industry.  I'm not a dairy farmer, but I know a little bit about the subject, as I purchase young dairy bulls to raise for beef, not veal, beef.  I do raise goats, and I've purchased a couple of goats from dairy farms.  Next, let me qualify this by saying, the dairy industry has been vilified for the way some of the big operations do business.  I'm not saying they are all above reproach, but they don't all deserve a bad rap.  There is another side to this industry, and the accusation of greed, and that would be the consumers.  Even if you don't drink milk, if you eat cheese, yogurt, put cream in your coffee, or use butter, and don't have a cow; you are complicit in the dairy farming industry.

The goat I purchased from a dairy herd is a great goat.  She loves me, she lets me know, according to her schedule when I should be getting the milk bucket and heading to the milking parlor.  She doesn't even need to be tethered to the stanchion, she just jumps up there and stands.  I do give her something to munch, but she doesn't always even eat it.  She is a perfect milk goat, but . . . she isn't so maternal.  Now this may be because she was in a dairy herd and the kids were removed at birth, but the fact of the matter is she's not maternal and she doesn't grieve about it.  She gives birth, licks them a couple of times, not nearly enough to dry them, and goes right on with life as it was before she gave birth.  Once I get them dry and on their feet, she will allow them to suckle, but it's not her priority, she's just exceedingly accommodating for me.  The point is, she displays no distress or what would appear to be maternal instincts.  She's certainly not mad at me for moving the babies.

A friend of mine does have a dairy operation and they remove the calves at birth.  The cows aren't all in a dither.  They really don't know any other life.  We tend to "assign" human emotions to animals, and sometimes that is the case, but sometimes it's simply PETA programming.  The calves are very well cared for, dry, warm and well fed.  The heifers will become the next generation of milkers and the simple fact of the matter is, most dairy bulls just don't have a prolonged life expectancy.  As for keeping the calves in small pens or enclosures.  Young animals of all kinds, humans included, do not know to come in out of the rain.  I realize there can be greed in corporate farming and likely is in the huge operations, but there are still hard working family farms that treat their animals well, but treat them like animals.

As for the cow in the video, I can tell you, weaning time, is a much bigger raucous than removing calves or kids at birth.  Once the baby has run with the mama and they've bonded, it doesn't matter how mature the offspring is, when they are separated, there is bellowing.  With the exception of my "career" dairy goat, I do keep the kids with their mamas and just separate them in the day time for evening milking, then babies and mamas are together again til the following morning.  That is based primarily to operate around Sabbath.  Mamas and kids are together for Sabbath and I milk once a day, six days a week.

Now, lets get down to the mathematics of it all.  With only 2% of Americans farming, but 100% of Americans eating, every dairy farmer has to milk 49 more cows, than he would for his own family.  With the exception of vegetarians, every beef rancher has to raise 49 more calves than he would for his own family.  To address greed, most folks moved away from an agricultural lifestyle to make "more money."  So we need to be careful just who is being called greedy.  There is no paid holiday on the farm and no sick days.  Farmers work rain or shine and the animals have to be cared for whether milk is $2.00 a gallon or $4.50.  Ranchers tend their herds regardless of the price of hamburger.  The consumer on the other hand, can choose their food purchases based primarily on cost and convenience, at the time.

It's so interesting that the majority of Americans do not want to farm, but they still want to eat.

An Answer to Prayer

The way Abba answers prayer is abundantly more than we could ask or imagine.  When praying, I try to keep my wish list short and my listening time on high availability.  I did have a request a few months back that I simply spoke once and went on with life, trusting.  Since this is the year I'm officially building my Jacob's herd, or trying, I have a particular image of what the goats should look like.  Of course, they won't all match, because some should be striped, some spotted, and some mottled or speckled.  The other factor I'm envisioning is a particularly outstanding ear formation.  I'm aiming for a sort of airplane look.  Two breeds have very long ears, like a basset hound, while others have short perky ears.  The combination is simply adorable, with somewhat long ears that stick straight out.  The ears aren't part of the Biblical description, that's just something I like.   Now I'm getting ready to give far  more details than seem necessary.

Buck was a sturdy guy with short perky ears, but I also purchased his crossbred buckling whose mom was a Nubian, so Jr. had the airplane ears.  When I realized Buck would only be good for one breeding season, as he was already getting aggressive with the herd, I asked Abba if He'd cause Della to have a buck.  That was the only time I mentioned it.  Della is primarily Nubian, but she's not purebred.  In raising this herd according to Torah, the first kids of any and all first time mamas belong to Abba, and every tenth one after that.  I have given them in different ways.  Sometimes I provide the meat for a Feast Day and sometimes I have been blessed to gift one to new homesteaders . . . other times, I've sold them to meet a financial ministry need.  This year, I'm naming Bible names, and the only first time mama had twins.  I happened to be right there at delivery, so I know the buck arrived first.  I named him Moses, since he belongs to Adonai.  His sister is of course, Miriam.  

This week has been quite active with new arrivals, and poor Della has looked impending for a couple of weeks now, but there have been five deliveries ahead of her.  Three sets of twins had the new kid count at 8 before Della delivered twins, last evening at dusk.  That made one of them the tenth one, belonging to Abba.  She had two bucks!  One for Abba, one for me.  I asked Him which one was His.  He told me the larger one had arrived first . . .  There's probably not 3 ounces difference in their size, but their markings are distinguishable.  Neither buck is a solid color and both have the great ears!  Not only did He answer my prayer, He did it with a double portion blessing.     

Tending to Emotional Needs

The garden produce doesn't indicate any emotional needs, just water and natural pesticide seems to meet the needs of the plants . . . and picking the produce.  Did you know, plants that produce through a season will slow down if the produce is not harvested regularly?

The herd on the other hand, not only has varying physical needs, but emotional needs, as well.  A situation occurred just a couple of weeks ago that truly could have been tragic.  Most of us know dogs and cats have personalities, but goats do as well.  When Zeke joined the land of Goshen, I put him in the north pasture, but realized very quickly, he needed more company than Babe, one of the guardian dogs.  Since I was drying Gert up, she seemed the obvious choice, so . . . Gert went to the north pasture and she and Zeke became virtually constant companions, but Gert's move left a void.

April 2014

Gert and Jackie had come from the same place last spring, and the people I bought them from, had bought them from the same farm, also.  These gals had been together their entire lives . . . The next day, I noticed Jackie gave significantly less milk.  She'd been grazing, and had a cud, so I went on about my business, thinking she was probably winding down her milk production based upon the breeding season.  The next morning, though, she was laying in the pasture alone and appeared to be moping.  I watched her all day, and she was moping.  She even went and got in one of the sheds on a beautiful breezy day . . . It was then that I remembered the story of her arrival at the last place.  It seems Jackie is rather codependent.

The folks who had sold her, had told quite the tale about Jackie and another goat they had purchased at the time.  It seems they bought three nannies from the same place and Jackie and the other nanny were just bad girls together.  So bad, in fact, the people sold the other one and Jackie never did settle down for them.  She had never been on a lead or a milk stanchion until she came here.  Gert on the other hand was not milked either, but she just has a docile, cooperative way about her, usually . . .  She has her trait as well, but back to Jackie.

When I saw Jackie tuck into the shed and just lay there, I knew something had to change.  So, I "dragged" her out and led her down to the north pasture where Gert was.  She moped around a bit, but by morning she and Gert and Zeke were all within view, and pretty much are always in the same general area.  She snapped out of her doldrums, but her milk supply never returned.  Like all of us, she has her quirks. 

Wheelin' and Dealin'

One of my favorite things about this style of living is the opportunity to make deals and barter.  It's not about any under the table stuff, but you just never know what will sweeten a deal more than money!  In the past week, I've discovered, the deal maker has been a bar of G-ma's Goatmilk Soap.  I'm amazed at the number of people who have heard of it, tried it, but didn't know where to find it.  It seems it's a "specialty item" at annual craft fairs or sold in tourist town gift shops.

Since this area is not far from a few tourist towns, most of us just don't get around to driving the 50-100 miles to Branson or Eureka Springs to sightsee.  We live in the atmosphere and the local radio stations promote all the names and performers before they get to town, so basically we've heard what there is to offer before it arrives.   Some of us are transplants to the area and are now living lives that don't require a break or entertainment and nobody goes to a tourist town just to pick up some soap!

This area is also known for some amazing ingenuity.  There are men who can move buildings with a buddy, a truck with a flatbed trailer and motor oil.  I've seen homes, beautiful homes, constructed by ordinary men with no high tech power tools.  I love to be a part of "turning an idea into a reality, and figuring out how we're going to make it work!"  I am a great admirer of what I call "Ozark Ingenuity."  This is one of the places in this country in which people continue to utilize their G-d given talent to actually make a life for themselves and their family.

There is a flea market not far from me.  I know the people and we've all done business together.  That couple has talents that I don't have, so he comes across all sorts of interesting items that I can put to use, and he's willing to deliver!  While he's out wheeling and dealing, she runs the store, so she likes my home made products, since she doesn't have time to do it.  We all buy and sell and pay our sales tax, but it's the extra things that make it so delightful.

This week as I was preparing to hit the road on a quest for goats; along with some cash, I packed some soap.  I grew up in a family of bargainers, so it's part of the fun of buying.  There are skills involved in deal making.  First, make sure you take cash because most folks do not want to deal with checks . . . and I certainly can't blame them.  Too many folks have gotten burned on check deals and debit cards are out of the question.  When counting your cash, if you plan to negotiate the price, take smaller bills.  Nobody is going to take less than their asking price and give change . . .

Livestock auctions, livestock deals, flea markets, and hand crafted items are all a part of a way of life that is unlike any other.  As a kid I really loved watching Daddy and my Grandparents do what my mother condescendingly referred to as "wheeling and dealing."  I had no idea I'd be blessed to enjoy this gift as part of my way of life!  I don't do it as well as my Grandparents did and my Daddy still does, so G-d gave me the talent to make soap to sweeten the deal!