Life with Goats: A-Milking We Shall Go!
by Roberta E Molaron – In the 1980s, the Bloomsburg Fair in Pennsylvania held a milking contest that had always been considered a competition for dairy cow farmers to demonstrate how fast they could extract milk by hand.
One year, I studied the entry rules, and nowhere was a specific species mentioned. So, a group of us decided to enter the competition. I emblazoned “The Keystone Kids” on T-shirts. We chose Danny — the fastest milker among us — along with two of my does that let their milk down the easiest. We got to choose two does because each 125-pound doe gave only about a half-gallon at a time, and those dairy cows certainly had a good deal more than a gallon in their capacious udders. The rest of us would be Danny’s cheering squad while he milked.
We proudly marched our entries around the ring to laughter from the cow farmers and at least 100 spectators. I have to admit, it was a little intimidating to see our petite dairy goats with their single pair of teats standing alongside huge udders on a dozen towering, high-producing bovines, but we were confident that we had a secret advantage.
The whistle blew, and the milking began! The rhythmic sounds of milk hitting the sides of metal pails echoed through the arena. One doe’s udder yielded her offering, and Danny moved on to her sister, spilling only a little milk in the transition, and drew from her until the whistle announced the three minutes were up.
The contest was to see who could coax the most milk out of the animals and into the pail (not how much milk an individual animal could produce) in three minutes. Spilled milk didn’t count, and there was a lot of that.
We humbly let the cow farmers, each thinking that one of them would walk away with the grand rosette, get their milk weighed first. As they announced weights, our confidence grew, while a few cow farmers made more and more cocky remarks. Some had drawn almost a pound, you know, two cups.
Finally, they poured our bucket into the one on the scale. It registered just under 8 pounds — a little less than a gallon! When the weight was announced over the sound system, the shocked cow farmers were somewhat embarrassed to see a lowly dairy goat farmer awarded the Champion Milker rosette.
You may ask, “Going into the contest, what made us so sure we had a secret advantage?”
Well, we milked our dairy goats by hand every day, twice a day, while the cow farmers merely “stripped” a squirt or two from each teat before attaching the milking machine, which did all the work for them. The firmest handshake you’ll ever get is from a dairy goat farmer who milks a few does by hand twice a day!
Originally published in the June 15, 2025 digital issue of Goat Journal.
