Farewell

This is my final post, until I meet my Mr. BunBuns!

For my last post, I thought I'd add all the cute little pictures I didn't post before. :)

Harvey, being cute:

 

Satin angoras from Crystal:

Baby bunny from Crystal:

Reconciliation

So I caved. I felt bad for getting mad at Jason when he was only thinking practically about our situation.

The truths:

-          We have no space for a rabbit at the moment.

-          He is still encouraging me to purchase an Angora in the future, and wouldn’t want to hinder my knitting or spinning hobbies.

-          Before he or I can keep any animals, it is imperative to clear the space in the back for it would be mean to not have a place for our pets to roam.

I hate when he’s right. I apologized and we discussed, and agreed, that though we have good intentions to purchase a bunny, it was not the right time for it. At least when we decide it is the right time to get an English Angora, we’ll have contacts and the necessary information to hunt for the ideal rabbit.

Drop Spindle

I bought my drop spindle from NW Handspun Yarns. Karen wasn’t there, but the cashier, an older woman with short hair that I haven’t seen before, let me have a ball of practice yarn for free. :) It is quite beautiful, varnished with a purple heart color and small. Most importantly, it spins forever without wobbling sideways or jerky teetering.

Since I can’t get a rabbit now, I figure I’ll need to practice spinning other fibers so I won’t waste the Angora wool when I do purchase one.
I am still sad I cannot purchase a rabbit though. :(

:( (Sad Face)

Jason and I are not talking. He will not allow me to have the rabbit because we haven’t cleared the lot in the back yet. I pleaded, gave him a series of whiny noises, and even gave him a bit of the silent treatment. But it wouldn’t do.

            Though, if he did give in solely because I acted like a petulant brat, I would probably respect him less. He is the logical, pragmatic, and practical one at the moment, whereas I am the one driven by my impulsive emotions to purchase a rabbit I can’t house, since my apartment does not allow pets in the unit. If Jason was willing, he would keep the rabbit at his place, but he doesn’t want to purchase a rabbit or even a goat without ample space in the yard to let them roam. Very reasonable. Very smart. Yet I am very annoyed with this situation.

            Poo.    

Bunny!

I found him. The perfect little bunny rabbit.

            Jason and I drove to Seattle to look at the rabbits. As we walked up the steps to their house, the smell of bunny urine intensified as we neared the door. A small I was not excited for. Kyle and his wife, Aundi, who sat on the couch with a towel in her lap, greeted us with big smiles. Along the walls stood a spinning wheel and bags of white wool, which I assumed was from their many rabbits (twenty-five to be exact), awaiting to be spun and dyed.

They told us to sit on the couch and Aundi reached over and placed the towel on my lap.

“Be careful when you pick him up. His feet might scratch so keep the towel underneath.

I pulled down the ends of the white cloth and there, no bigger than football, sat the smoke pearl rabbit I saw in the picture.

His fur didn’t mat yet, but my fingers could not stop petting his furry body. I wanted to pull him to my face and give him Eskimo kisses. The fluff covered most of his eyes as if he were sleeping on my lap. My hands wrapped around him and pulled him closer to my chest. I fought the desire to hug him and squeeze his tiny body. He was my bunny. My quest felt nearly complete.

Kyle kept talking about the grooming measures of angoras – the brush to use, how often to brush them, what cage to keep them in, how the gray color would turn into smoke pearl as it matured and the fiber would be light enough to dye any color.

Then they showed another rabbit, the smoke pearl’s brother. It was smaller, just as fluffy but the color of cinnamon. Jason took a liking to him because they had one thing in common – ginger features. 

 He was adorable. They were both adorable. My eyes switched back and forth between the cinnamon and smoke pearl, but the smoke pearl rabbit was it.

Kyle continued with more grooming tips. I processed his words, but could not keep from looking at the smoke pearl bunny in my arms. I turned to Jason, saying “aww” and pouting my bottom lip out. My mouth formed the words “I want him”, but Jason kept shaking his head saying no, not right now.

I wanted the rabbit. My heart marked him mine. A cunning plan devised in my head if I couldn’t sway Jason to agree to get the bunny. Maybe a friend or a cousin could take me to Seattle, “rabbit-nap” him (only after paying for it), and bring him to my apartment even though they don’t allow pets except for cats. That way I would be taking care of him and Jason wouldn’t know unless I told him (his car doesn’t do well in long distances). The bunny was still 4 weeks and legally could not be sold until it was at least 8 weeks. So time was on my side giving me a month to plan this out.

Maybe if my charms didn’t work, I could bribe him with food and pastries?

Crap. I just remembered he’s on a diet.   

The Joy of Spinning

Today, I met Harvey. Earlier this week, I visited her and she suggested it was time to meet Harvey, especially as my rabbit research progressed toward finding the perfect bunny. It was time she would introduce me to her own English angora.

            When I saw him, I was surprised with how large Harvey was. He was cuter than Vanilla Bean because the hair around his face was cut back to reveal his eyes - something rabbit owners can do if you don’t plan on showing your rabbit. It was still surprising how big Harvey was, even after meeting Vanilla Bean. They were about the same size, both as big as my parents’ dog, Cow, who by the way is about ten pounds. Karen assured me, just like Crystal, that they just look big, it’s their wool that gives them that illusion of being so fluffy, but underneath their coat their bodies were tiny creatures. She handed Harvey over and I felt just how skeletal his body was underneath, much like Vanilla Bean. 

            As I marveled over her rabbit, Karen pulled out a plastic bag of brushes she uses to brush Harvey’s coat and laid them out on the floor in front of her. Her hands extended out to reclaim her rabbit and I abided. She petted Harvey’s body, scratching the space between and behind his ears as his eyes closed, relaxing in his owner’s arms. After a few minutes, Karen carefully turned him over on his back and laid Harvey down on her outstretched legs. Karen continued to pet Harvey head as he closed his eyes, his tiny paws suspended in the air. He looked as if he fell into some trance, asleep by some hypnotic spell. With one free hand, she grabbed a brush and showed me how she grooms him, while Harvey kept still on his back. 

 I tried to reach for him, fascinated that he remained obedient, but as my hand neared, he jerked back on his feet. He hopped about in the upstairs office in the yarn store, and I gushed as he climbed inside overturned boxes, stood on his hind paws, and leaped into my lap, sniffing my jeans.

            Looking at Harvey, my decision was confirmed even more, that the English angora was the ideal rabbit I was looking for.

            As we watched Harvey wander about, Karen showed me a red Nike shoebox filled to the brim with Harvey’s fur. “This has only been since Christmas.” Two months ago! My mouth dropped and I stuck my hand inside to feel the soft fibers. This silly gesture filled me with a sense of giddiness and excitement for when it came time to finally purchase a rabbit of my own. Karen plucked a small tuft of wool and gave it to me, a little keepsake of Harvey. Then she asked me about spinning.

            “I have no idea how it’s done,” I told her, “but that’s one of the objectives of getting a rabbit. I’d really like to learn to feed my own knitting and not pay someone else to do it.”

            We walked away from Harvey and headed to the weaving room. Along a wall was a shelf full of drop spindles stuffed inside a brown basket and other that hung on a long twine. She picked a light pine spindle with a large circular head and an attached hook, grabbed a bin labeled “Practice Wool” and called me over to a table. From the bin, she pulled out a red-orange ball of yarn, lightly tugging the fibers from one end, twisting it between her fingers, and attaching it to the brass hook of the spindle. Once the fibers were twisted and securely attached to the hook, she spun the handle of the spindle against her right leg and I watched the fibers intertwine in suspension. Periodically, she twisted the spindle against her leg to keep a steady momentum as she continually pulled fibers from the red-orange ball. As she kept pulling the fibers out, it lengthened the distance between the yarn and the hook of the spindle.

            As she spun, Karen explained that the mark of a good spindle was balance and that the spindle she was using was of the “cheaper end” as her own spindle spun about with jerky movements and teetered sideways. After a couple of spins, Karen hands me the yarn and spindle and tells me to play with it as she checks up on Harvey.

            My fingers fumbled, unsure how to alternate between pulling the yarn and when to spin it. I was able to get some twists going before I overspun the fiber causing it to separate from the ball of yarn and onto the floor.

“Those are weak spots in the fiber,” Karen said. “To prevent that, you need to tug the same amount of fibers from the ball every time and before you spin.”

I had no idea what that meant. But despite my numerous fumbles, I was overjoyed to have tried spinning. I loved knowing that I had witnessed the process of how a ball of yarn was created, that it required skill and precision to make such a mundane looking object. Understanding this time consuming process gave me a greater appreciation for local spinners and fiber breeders. That the quality found in a ball of yarn came from more than a fluffy animal with great fiber, but from people who spent the time turning it into what we see in the stores, and enjoyed it. I respected their patience and hard-work and realized I wanted to be a part of that small collection of people who saw the value in spinning, even if it would serve to be a part-time hobby.

            I tried out a handful of different spindles and tried to spin with a few on the pricier end. There was a smoother, well-balanced sense of quality to these spindles that could not be put into dollars or cents. After narrowing my options, I asked Karen to put aside two spindles made from local companies – Spindlewood from Oregon and Cascade Spindles from Kent, WA - until Monday after I talked to Jason about my newfound hobby.

The Cost of Mr. BunBuns

After talking with Crustal and discovering the average cost of an angora rabbit, I needed to know if there were any financial benefits of having an angora rabbit. To determine this, I needed to know the average cost of wool per ounce. Compare that with the total cost of purchasing, housing, and caring for the rabbit – i.e. feeding and housing for Mr. BunBuns. Plus the cost of purchasing the drop spindle, for I need to acquire those skills to utilize the wool it yields.
So how much would my rabbit be worth?

According to Crystal and the sales info on Aundi’s Angora website, the average cost of one Angora rabbit is $100 without a pedigree. (I wouldn’t need a pedigree because I don’t plan on showing my rabbit. If I did plan on doing that, you would slap another $50 to the fee.)

Here is the list of everything else needed for a rabbit:

Outdoor Hutch: $85 - $120, according to Craigslist listing
Housebreaking tools:
- Critter Litter: $7
- Litter Pan: $15
Food: $10 (on average)
Feeders: ~ $10
Grooming Brushes: ~ $30 (includes steel-toothed comb, bulb-tipped brush, etc.)
Drop Spindle: $30

With the above items in mind, I calculated the initial cost of having a rabbit would be around $287 – the total cost of every item listed above. However, after this, the monthly cost for the Angora would include the critter litter and a one-month supply of food, excluding vitamins and supplements. This, according to my list above, would be less than $20 a month.

But the question remains: would the value of the wool acquired eventually pay for itself? After browsing through websites, I discovered the average cost per ounce of angora wool to be $10 to $16. In another website, it stated the total annual yield for one single Angora rabbit ranges from seven to fourteen ounces. That would mean, the lowest yearly cost of the wool my rabbit would produce would be $70. If the table above is accurate, that would mean it would take, at the most, four years before my rabbit could pay for itself.

It is safe to say, that my rabbit may not be a great financial investment than I initially thought. But then again, did I truly desire a rabbit for its financial benefit? Not really. Once I saw how cute they were, I knew I disregarded any logistics in the matter. To me, an angora rabbit would provide endless hours of doing something I enjoyed – spinning and knitting. It was the joy and pride of one day being able to say, “Yes, I did knit this hat. It was made with yarn that I spun myself from my rabbit that I have in the backyard. Would you like to see it?” I wanted self-sustainability, even if it was in the smallest sense of the word.

Seattle Surprise

Before I met with Crystal the other day, I e-mailed another rabbit breeder located in Seattle called Aundi’s Angoras.They were a couple that specialized in breeding English angoras. I was excited to find a breeder close by, aside from Crystal, for they were few in numbers in the Seattle area.

Today, they finally replied. I inquired for a white angora rabbit. White because it’s the most sensible fiber to dye, and if they recently had any BEW (blue-eyed white) angoras. They were highly desirable for their blue eyes because it didn't make them look like Bunnicula. 

This a BEW on the Aundi's Angoras website:

 

Kyle, the breeder, said they just had a recent English angora kit, but did not have any white. They did have a smoke pearl bunny, the closest to white. Their dark smoke-pearl coat would lighten as they matured so dying colors would work well. They sent a snapshot of the kit and offered to mail a sample of the yarn they've spun from their rabbits – which I agreed to receive. Needless to say, I scheduled another visit to see the rabbits on Sunday.

Maybe this will be the right rabbit?

Hopefully. I can't stop looking at the picture of the litter he sent me.

Satin vs. English

Busy day Sunday:

9 AM – 11 AM: Bake apple pies.

11 - Noon o’clock: Get ready to leave.

Noon-thirty – 1:30 PM: Look at rabbits!

Today, Crystal is letting Jason and I look at her rabbits. Fortunately, she lives a hop, skip and a jump away from Jason in the Renton Highlands. It took us three, maybe five minutes at the most, to drive to her place.

We decided to match by wearing flannel shirts – mine was grass green and celadon, and Jason wore his twilight blue Pendleton, and we both topped it with knitted hats I made. We were like mismatched socks that still fit perfectly.

Crystal’s house sat on top of a decently sized lot encased by a wire fence. Three Rottweilers and a tiny Dachshund greeted us at the gate, barking at our feet. She was a younger breeder, maybe eighteen or nineteen years old. Her mother, also a breeder, showed us her three week old rabbits. She let me hold them so I picked up a chocolate bunny and cradled it close to my chest. I stroked its back gently since it was no bigger than my itty bitty hand. I looked at Jason, unable to stop gushing and cooing every five seconds. But it wasn’t long before it wanted to commit bunny suicide by jumping from my hand to the floor. I was able to catch it before the four-foot fall would’ve marked the end of its life and decided it would be best to put it back in its cage.

Once we broke away from the baby bunnies, Crystal took us to the backyard to see the rest of her rabbits. There were about ten, each in individual cages, stacked on top another, and a handful on the ground that she was holding for fellow breeders. My eyes were distracted by the cute and rather smelly bunnies. Their metal cages with the pull-out poop compartments reminded me of my own rabbits when I was a child, Spanky and Flopsy, gifted to me by an auntie obsessed with bunnies.

Then I saw him, Vanilla Bean. I recognized him from the picture Crystal sent me of her REW English angora. At this point, I was on the fence between the English and the Satin, but upon seeing this furry creature, felt like the English breed was what I needed: something with a lot of wool, a compact size and sweet temperament. And I heard the fluff is amazing.

Crystal pulled the little guy out of the cage by the extra skin on his neck. She held the white rabbit in her arms as tufts of hair scattered all over her grey shirt. “That happens a lot,” she said as she scanned her chest. “We pull it off or use a lint roller, but we always save them.” I smiled and reached out to touch the rabbit. There was no exaggeration to it. The wool was soft, airless. I felt the rabbit’s bones as I petted underneath its coat and wondered about its body to wool ratio – 1:3, at least. With how much it fluffs, I marveled at how much fiber I could get from it. Enough to make a hat with after a few months, maybe? Who knows? Who cares? I think my mind is set on what I want.

Presenting, Crystal's English angora, Vanilla Bean: 

However, Crystal expressed she was unsure she wanted to sell her only REW English angora. With the tender way she petting him, I couldn’t tear her away from a loved pet. That’s inhumane. I told her to show me her Satin angoras instead, though I had no interest in them. I knew what breed I wanted. So she pointed to a neighboring cage with two rabbits, one smoke and the other a cinnamon. They were jerky and I was afraid they’d bite me. The colors were beautiful and the wool matted nicely on its back, but after seeing Vanilla Bean I was not willing to be swayed.

Something more local

Woot-woot! Anne Ott referred me to a breeder in Seattle named Crystal. Crystal, with her lovely website, breeds two angora rabbits, Satin and English. Though I don’t know too much about their differences, this is what Google and looking through tons of breeder websites has taught me:

English: Incredibly soft fibers that have a halo, or ethereal, look to them. There is a lot of fluff so a lot to make yarn with. They are also the smallest out of the four breeds, weighing between 5 to 7.5 pounds when they are matured. Additionally, their most distinguishing feature is the furry tendrils that cover their eyes and cascade past their loppy ears – which none of the other breeds have. Meaning, they are all fluff, like a cotton ball.

Satin: Their colors are more varied (I’m not sure why) than the German. The wool is soft with more guard hairs, meaning they don’t shed as much as the English angoras and their coat is easir to maintain. The wool is a lot finer and has a satin sheen to them. Because their wool is less dense, it yields less than the other breeds. It is second smallest to the English angora. 

So the question is this: what do I want in a rabbit?

Regardless, I am floating. Floating in a sea of furry bunnies as they jump in mid-air around me as I skip in a field of wild flowers, a rabbit on each arm.

Go-ats

I sound like a broken record. Every time Jason and I talk, it’s always about rabbits. So I researched breeds of dairy “goh-ats” and chickens, any Craigslist listings of the animals in Bellingham or Seattle and put all the information in an e-mail for Jason to read after he got home from work. He lets me talk about rabbits every time we chat on the phone, I figure I would show him some interest in goats since he's shown interest, or at least a tolerance, to this rabbit business.

Bleeaat!

On the Hunt

I received my first response on my rabbit quest. A woman who breeds Satin angoras. Found her website after putting in the Google search engine “Angora rabbits in WA.” Anne Ott of Irish Rose Rabbitry highly recommended Satin angoras, praising them for easy grooming and rich colors. They mat, so she brushes her rabbits regularly – a couple times a week. Here are pictures she sent of her new kit - a litter of baby bunnies.

The major downside? She is 20 miles north of Spokane. From Bellingham, she is 5 hours and 59 minutes. From Renton, she is closer – 4 hours and 39 minutes. If I had a car, it would be okay. I would make the trip to get a rabbit, if it was the one I wanted. However, Jason wouldn't. Even if his car wasn’t on the verge of choking out, he still wouldn’t do it.

“But her rabbits start at $20 a pop,” my voice twinged into a whine. “We could get a Mr. BunBuns for cheaper.”

“Not with the cost of gas getting there and back. It’ll end up being at least $60, since she said they started at $20. We wouldn’t be saving money.”

I let a loud “humph” be heard over the phone. Five days out of the week, Jason and I are apart. I’m in Bellingham while he stays in Renton. I knew he would not want to spend half of the limited time we have each week in the car. Neither would I.

“And baby,” he continued, “the lot isn’t cleared out yet. Remember, we can’t get any animals until we’ve fixed it up.”

“But Mr. BunBuns…”

“You’ve named it already?”

“No. It’s my placeholder name for my future bunny. Like John Doe or Jane Doe.”

Jason let out a little laugh, “you’re so cute.” He smacked kisses over the receiver and I smacked back.

UPDATE:

A second breeder from Skagit County raises Satin angoras. Donna Schnoover of Schnoover Farms pretty much said the same thing as Anne – the Satins have richer colors with a great sheen with sweeter temperaments.

            Maybe Satin is the way to go?

It is complete!

            Just finished hat number nine. (Or is it 10?) It’s for Alex, my cousin’s boyfriend - black with red speckles in the brim. Following is pattern for a regular beanie and/or slouch.

Simple  Beanie:

1.      Do a swatch. Calculate number of stitches per inch.

2.      Take a tape measure and measure circumference of your head. Subtract 1.5 inches. (Two inches is okay. It will keep the hat snug on your head.)

3.      Take the number from step 1 and multiply it by the subtracted number from step 2. This will be the number you cast on with.

a.       For example: 4 stitches in one inch x 18 inches in circumference = 72 stitches

4.      Add an extra stitch when knitting on two circular needles. When you knit in the round, number of stitches will go back to 72.

5.      Make a 1x1 rib. Knit 1, Purl 1. Repeat to the end of the round. Knit ribbing for 1 inch.

6.      Knit for 5 inches, measuring from the cuff.

7.      Decrease to make the crown:

a.       72 stitches – knit 10, knit 2 together*, repeat.

b.      Knit round.

c.       K9, k2tog*, repeat. – 60 stitches

d.      Knit round.

e.       K8, k2tog*, repeat. – 48 stitches

f.       Knit round.

g.      K7, k2tog*, repeat. – 36 stitches

h.      Knit round.

i.        K6, k2tog*, repeat. – 24 stitches

j.        Knit round.

k.      While stitches are on needle, cut a 8 inch long string. With a tapestry needle thread through remaining stitches and pull tight.

l.        Weave in ends.


Ta-dah!

Personal Ad

Just talked with Karen and the girls at NW Handspun Yarns in downtown. They told me to e-mail the local spinners and knitters in Bellingham called the SpinDrifters. So mystical. So creative. So awesome. I told them I was on the hunt for an angora rabbit and a lady suggested I make a saucy personal ad to put on the SpinDrifters Newsletter.

Presenting, my rabbit personal ad:

Lonely college student seeks attractive Angora rabbit. Willing to brush for long hours anytime, anywhere. Buck (or doe) must be lovable, sweet-tempered, gentle, and unafraid of cuddling in bed. Mostly importantly, always generous with their wool.

Oh, how I will miss Bellingham when I graduate.

11 PM to late late at night...

Not every rabbit breed was created equal. Only a few breeds that make angora wool, much like the goat breeds.

There are four fluffy rabbits that I can choose from – German, French, Satin and English.

I can tell you one that I already don’t want:

The German Angora, a.k.a. GIANT!

Like its name, it is HUGE. Just look at it! It can weigh up 13 pounds. That is more than I weighed when I was born. Nearly twice. It’s more of a mutant rabbit than anything else. But, it doesn’t molt, shed or leave any of its lovely fibers lying about. German angoras need to be sheared so they end up like (almost) hairless Siamese cats with a white lion’s mane - a funny upside, if you like to embarrass your pet. 
 

But just like school buses that come only in Twinkie orange, German angoras are white with ruby eyes, a la Bunnicula.

So a fat, over-sized, rabid-eyed German angora is not what I want.

Now, only three to choose from.

Angora comes from...

Rabbits. I’ve got rabbits on my noggin. Random rabbits running around in my apartment. Hopping, scouring my 500-square-foot apartment with their furry paws. Little rabbits. Lovely rabbits. Mine. All mine.

My own. My…precious…BunBuns!

Jason and I have just finished watching the second Lord of the Rings. Something at Helm’s Deep.

I Want Wool

Between classes…

Texted Jason about getting a puppy. Denied. Then I offered sexual favors for it.

Still denied. 

I just want an animal. 

My parents' dog, Cow, when she was 8 weeks old. If you squint and look at the black and white blob behind her, that is Oreo, Cow's sister. Also my parents'. But guessed who named Cow? (Me.)

After classes…

Then I remembered Karen. Knitter, spinner, accountant from NW Handspun Yarns in downtown. A couple weeks ago, she showed me a picture of Harvey, a long-haired, furry, REW (ruby-eyed white) rabbit she bought from a woman in some yarn show. Fifteen bucks. Harvey is an angora rabbit, English was its specific breed. I had no idea what she meant. English, Scottish, Latin. Ethnic background was no significance to me. 
She typed English angora into the Google search engine and I stared at the image she showed me. The rabbit was drowning in fur, and as large as a fat cat or a fluffed out yappy dog. Its eyes were shielded by its fringe of wool that cascaded to his little nose. Furry tendrils fell from his loppy ears. In all his fluffy estate, the rabbit was not cute to look at.

“How much wool is on him?”

“Too much. I have to brush him 2-3 times a week.” Her gestures were exasperated, pantomiming how she’d brush her rabbit, Harvey, at night. “I have to turn him over on his back,” her hands moved counter-clockwise forming a circle, “and brush his belly,” an invisible brush stroked along a horizon, “and cut mats that have poo and dirt," her index and middle fingers sliced the air like a pair of scissors. "But he gives me a lot of wool.”

“So you don’t have to kill it to get its wool?” I imagined his clean coat streaked with red guts.

Karen laughed. “No, brushing or shearing gets the wool out.”

Listening to her gave me an idea, a way to feed my knitting addiction that I developed only since last July when I spent hours after work learning how to knit hats and scarves in front of the TV that I was not paying attention to.  

I grabbed my phone and told Jason about Karen and Harvey.

“Angora rabbits. That’s where angora comes from. Angora is really expensive. And soft. Remember, it was the halo-looking stuff  I put in my brown hat? That fluffy stuff that made it look ethereal?”

Jason said a little “uh-huh” whenever I took a breath from talking.

“So, can I have one?”

“Would we be able to eat it when we’re done?” His loud chuckle reverberated over the cellphone waves.

“No! We won’t eat him, we’ll just use him. For wool.”

“I still want to eat him.”

“Look, if you’re getting an animal, then I would like one too. A rabbit. It’ll be smaller than a bleating goat and less noisier than a clucking chicken.”
“Fine, but only after we clear the lot.”

Dairy Goats Revisited

Dammit. Jason was right.

There are dairy goats then there are wool goats. There’s a goat page at Purdue University that talks about the different dairy goat breeds registered with the American Dairy Goat Association. The ADGA. None of them are used for wool. The goats (or as Jason calls them, “goh-ats”) used for wool are the angora and the cashmere. Wikipedia states the Angora has “long, curling, lustrous locks of mohair.” Mohair yarn. (I have an itchy azure ball of yarn somewhere in my room. Now I know from whence it came.) Then cashmere, one of the most expensive natural fibers, that Wikipedia says is very “fine and soft.” However, the angora and cashmere goats aren't used for dairy.

To be honest, I don't really want a fiber goat. They're a little big and I'd rather have something smaller, lovable, like a puppy. Plus, I don't drink their milk.

Dairy Goats

After class, Jason called and asked me how I felt about goats. I told him I didn’t, except in my belly after I eat them. I smacked my lips and rubbed my belly, though he couldn’t see through the phone. He continued, ignoring my very funny humor, and told me the family he lives with has a bit of land outside their fence full of sticker bushes and nasty roots. He just cleared a part of it in the last few hours and wants to turn it a little project.

“It’s a pretty nice sized lot right, too. And when I get it cleared up, we could have a goat or a chicken. Or both, if you want to.”

“And why do you want a goat?”

“For cheese and milk. Duh!”

Last month Jason and I made baked brie with goat cheese. Presenting, said cheese:

It was under baked and not very good. The taste was sharp with a strong “goaty” bite, and I was tickled with the sensation to bleat.

Unless we killed it for its meat, I was not excited to have dairy goat anything. But before I knocked his enthusiasm for a hairy addition to our family, I realized goats had another use that didn’t involve being eaten or milked. Their fibers, like sheep and alpacas, are used for spinning all the time. As a six-month-old knitter, this was great news for me. I’ve always been interested in knowing how to spin and dye wool. Maybe one day I could stop relying on yarn stores to feed my yarn addiction because I would be producing yarn myself, for myself. With a hairy addition I could learn how to spin. This equals lots of wool. Wool equals yarn. Goat’s cheese or milk, I wanted some yarn.

“If we have the goat for milk,” I asked, “could we use it for wool, too?”

“I don’t think there is a breed of goat for both wool and dairy. If we get a dairy goat, it’d be lousy for wool. And the other way around.”

That wasn’t the answer I was looking for. I didn’t trust his word, maybe because I really wanted something to feed my yarn addiction. The large pink basket full of brightly colored balls of wool in my closet would say the same thing. I became optimistic and wondered if someone has bred a wool-dairy goat hybrid.

“If I research and look at the breeds of goat and do find one good for dairy and fiber, then could I use it for wool?” I smiled, big, forgetting again my girlish charms didn’t really work over the phone.

“We’ll see what you find out.”

“Deal.”