Goat kids and my own kids

I’ve noticed that farming often skips a generation. My parents both grew up on farms and decided they didn’t want those same responsibilities as adults. Still, I have great memories of visiting my grandparents’ farms when I was a kid. Brittany has similar memories with hers.

For both of us, the idea of moving a little out of town and getting some land always held a certain appeal. We pictured a big garden, a few animals, and a simpler life for our kids. In early 2019, we found the right property. It had a barn, some acreage, and even a spot where my recently widowed mom could build a house and live close by.

We became hobby farmers, which I define as people who get to experiment, make plenty of mistakes, and feel no pressure to make any money. We quickly become successful at each of those.

Over the years, we added chickens, pigs, and a few goats. We expanded the garden. We sold the hay from the pasture. It was manageable and simple enough.

In 2024, I decided to expand our goat operation. It seemed simple enough. The goats could feed themselves on pasture, and we could sell the babies to 4H families each year. Maybe we would even butcher a few for ourselves. We’ve never been the type to stress out too much about where our meat comes from, but still, it was kind of a cool idea.

What could go wrong?

I started watching Craigslist and gradually collected goats. I began with a handful, then ran the numbers to see how many the land could support. Before long, I had nearly 30 does. Most were younger doelings who had never had kids, and I assumed there was no way they would all get pregnant in the first year. Even if most of them did, we had owned goats before and they had been good mothers. No worries, I was sure we'd figure it out.

All but one got pregnant.

And at an average of two kids born per doe, last winter was nothing short of chaos. For whatever reason, goats give birth in January and February when it's coldest. And most decided to give birth one week during a blizzard and near zero temperatures. On top of that, first time goat moms are also still figuring everything out. And some goats are truly crappy mothers.

So, I found myself the father of dozens of goat kids, scrambling to try to keep them warm and alive and fed. More than once I had lots of goat babies in my living room through the night, waking up multiple times to a house that sounded and smelled like a barn.

Whatever you’re picturing in your head, it was probably worse.

Not shockingly, once spring came I decided that being a goat farmer was no longer in my future. I tend to swing from one extreme to the other. I once loved (the idea of) goats, and now I hated goats. I understood why goats are associated with the devil.

My plan was to go from too many goats to zero goats.

Brittany agreed. She’d had to step in more than once to help keep the goats alive. My kids were sad. I’d expected that and prepared myself for it. But my 13-year-old son Carter was persistent. He proposed that we not get rid of all the goats and convinced me to let him buy and keep eight does along with the billy.

I didn’t want to at first. Even eight does would result in 15-20 goat kids. I knew he’d most likely lose some of them. He’d have to deal with the same sadness and frustration I’d just gone through. I also knew that I would not be completely relieved of the stress and distraction. I would be tempted to step in, take over, and micromanage. I questioned whether it was worth it.

Eventually, I relented.

Now we're at it again. A couple of weeks in, we’re at ten newborns with a few goat moms still expecting. It’s warmer this year. He’s got way fewer goats, and we kept the good moms. And yet, he's still battling some of the things I battled last year.

Personally, I’m wired for efficiency, productivity and short term outcomes. My instinct is to step in, fix problems, and tell him to do things my way based on what I learned the hard way. It would save time and likely reduce losses.

But I have to keep reminding myself what really matters. Why did we move here in the first place? Why did I allow him to buy these goats from me? What does success actually look like in this situation?

This has become a parenting and leadership lesson for me.

Leaders do not take over and do everything themselves. Leaders develop others, and development almost always costs something. It costs time, efficiency, and short-term results.

I have also been reminded how people truly learn. It would be convenient if our kids could simply download everything we have already learned and avoid repeating our mistakes. In reality, some lessons only take root through personal experience, and sometimes through failure.

That does not mean we withhold what we know. We share our experience. We make sure they understand we are available to help them think through problems. But it also means loosening our grip and allowing them to struggle in age-appropriate ways.

Carter is doing a great job. He cared for the goats all summer and fall. He rotated them through the pasture, trimmed hooves and kept them up to date on meds. He prepared for winter and birthing season and has had to help deliver some goat kids. And now he’s dealing with a runt triplet who needs supplemental feedings.

He is taking responsibility. He is trying. Not everything is going smoothly, but he is learning.

As parents, we need to create opportunities like this. We should encourage our kids into situations where failure is possible. We need to let them know we care deeply and that we are available when they truly need help. At the same time, we must resist the urge to swoop in and solve everything.

When we step in too quickly, we often do it as much to relieve our own discomfort as to relieve theirs. It is hard to watch your child struggle. But if we truly love them, we will allow them to face challenges that build resilience and competence.

Rationally and financially, my family has little reason to be in the goat business. But we are not trying to raise goat kids. We are trying to raise our own kids.