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nobordersdaily: photo by Carpetblogger At the cemetery of the isolated village of Nokhur (Turkmenistan) , nearly every grave is marked by a wooden post adorned with the horns of a mountain goat. They are thought to fight off evil spirits, and help the soul of the deceased to ensure a safe passage to heaven. Aside from their appearances at the village cemetery, skulls of mountain goats are found at some of the houses’ doorways of the village as well. The Nokhuris, the mountain tribe of the region, have always considered mountain goats sacred animals, admiring their strength and endurance. The reverence of mountain goats clearly predate Islamic traditions, and although today the Nokhuris are devout Muslims, parts of the ancient belief system has continued to survive. via  Nokhur Cemetery located in Nokhur, Turkmenistan | Atlas Obscura | Curious and Wondrous Travel Destinations Tragos-endorsed cemetery of the year.

nobordersdaily:

photo by Carpetblogger

At the cemetery of the isolated village of Nokhur (Turkmenistan) , nearly every grave is marked by a wooden post adorned with the horns of a mountain goat. They are thought to fight off evil spirits, and help the soul of the deceased to ensure a safe passage to heaven. Aside from their appearances at the village cemetery, skulls of mountain goats are found at some of the houses’ doorways of the village as well.

The Nokhuris, the mountain tribe of the region, have always considered mountain goats sacred animals, admiring their strength and endurance. The reverence of mountain goats clearly predate Islamic traditions, and although today the Nokhuris are devout Muslims, parts of the ancient belief system has continued to survive.

via 

Nokhur Cemetery located in Nokhur, Turkmenistan | Atlas Obscura | Curious and Wondrous Travel Destinations

Tragos-endorsed cemetery of the year.

Congratulations to my brother-in-law, who just got a new job as a chef at, yes, The Grazing Goat, on New Quebec Street in London. I would like to think my constant support for the ol’ capra aegagrus hircus helped in some way. Goat karma definitely goes around. If you are in London, please give it a try and pay a compliment to the new chef, Brother-in-Law-Tragos.

Congratulations to my brother-in-law, who just got a new job as a chef at, yes, The Grazing Goat, on New Quebec Street in London.

I would like to think my constant support for the ol’ capra aegagrus hircus helped in some way. Goat karma definitely goes around.

If you are in London, please give it a try and pay a compliment to the new chef, Brother-in-Law-Tragos.

“I’m celebrating my 50th birthday in two days by throwing a nyama choma goat feast for 25 people in the bush.”

The goat has already been sourced from a local Maasai, we’ll drive to the village to get Tuskers and soda tomorrow, the staff cook is on board for side dishes, and one of the chefs will make a cake. Then on the big day the fire will be built, the cooks will do their thing, and we’ll have a nice party! (via melanyouth)

Happy Birthday Melanyouth. As she must know, it would almost be impossible to celebrate one’s 50th in a more Tragos-endorsed fashion.

kateoplis: One of three new-born endangered golden takins (a type of goat-antelope) at the zoo in Liberec, Czech Republic More in Bhutan-related news today: The omniscient Kateoplis reminded me today that she had posted this photograph of Bhutan’s national animal, the Golden Takin, described as a “goat-antelope”, which is to say, half-divine. Tragos headquarters would consider relocating to Bhutan.

kateoplis:

One of three new-born endangered golden takins (a type of goat-antelope) at the zoo in Liberec, Czech Republic

More in Bhutan-related news today:

The omniscient Kateoplis reminded me today that she had posted this photograph of Bhutan’s national animal, the Golden Takin, described as a “goat-antelope”, which is to say, half-divine.

Tragos headquarters would consider relocating to Bhutan.

icelandicbutterflies: farmweather: As you can see here, the goats are very content in their current pasture. This morning, as I approached the edge of the woods from the field (to lead them in to the barn for their morning milking), I was very amused by their natural arrangement. Two things in particular I wanted to mention in relation to the photo: 1) how photogenic they are…I mean, COME ON; (2) some further analysis of the image upon completion of said milking has left me baffled by just how succinctly their arrangement on the rocks depict their caprine-heirarchy, which they have, over the last few months, tirelessly sorted out.  Thus, a brief introduction to our five milkers… Orion - Front and center, she has very clearly claimed the throne. Our alpha. Neither easily flustered nor reactionary, Orion is our most stoic and fearless goat. She’s also the most generous milk-giver (producing well over 10 pounds of milk/day). She gave birth on the day of the largest full moon in twenty years (March 18, I think it was). Mothering Luna and Apollo, both of which we’ve kept and will raise here on the farm. She possesses somewhat of a split personality; she is simultaneously extremely easy to milk and handle (for us) and an outright bully toward her herd-mates. Not a bully all the time (on the contrary, she’s tranquil MOST of the time)—but when food enters the equation, watch out. Fern - on Orion’s right (in the photo), she is our youngest milker. We picked her up and brought her to the farm back in November (just before Thanksgiving) along with Orion. She is by far the most unique of the bunch. She’s got this involuntary head twirl that concerned us at first but now comforts us…it’s her signature. It symbolizes how bewildered and spacey she is. Playful, moody, incredibly strong-willed, Fern’s one of those characters who just makes you laugh. She’d be the easiest goat to write a children’s book about, in other words. She LOVES any and ALL snacks: raisins, goldfish, sun chips, salt & vinegar chips. Loves them so much (and so much more than the others) that Louisa actually has to smuggle snacks to the others while I place Fern in a headlock.     Next, above Orion, stands Cicada. She earned her name by providing the eerie and quiet electric chirping that scored our two-hour drive home from her previous farm in New Hampshire. She is bold (always butting the border collies who seem intent on herding our goats to and fro the milking parlor), likes to have her rump rubbed (who doesn’t!), and is aggressive and alert. Likes vetch and meadow flowers more than the rest, but has become equally content in the woods. A consistent and impressive milker (she’s only two), she’s milking 9+ pounds/day. Her milk is the foamiest for some reason. Like you could make a latte straight from the teat. Have I tried it? What do you think. On Orion’s left stands the one and only, fearsome and difficult, complicated and loving, Gertrude Stein. Who is hands down the possessor of the biggest appetite on the farm. She birthed twins (Cy Twombly, Louisa’s fave, and Elvis, who’s hide I recently tanned and nailed to our wall…both wonderful goats), and still she looks pregnant with several more. She’s enormous. She’s also the most independent—the one most likely to wander off on her own absent-mindedly, hunting beech saplings and white pine, raspberry and apple buds. She’s also, in the milking parlor, a serious kicker. If you don’t pay attention, she could do some real damage (she often jabs up and back, aiming for your teeth). As such, she’s probably been scolded the most of them all. But at the end of the day, she’s Gertrude Stein. And she’s staying. Last and lowest on the totem pole is our most delicate and noisy goat: Manhattan. Louisa and I cite different reasons for the name. Louisa insists that her beauty, stylishness, and sophisticated demeanor earned her the name. But I point to the more obvious attributes: that she is LOUD and OBNOXIOUS. But she’s also the most endearing of the bunch. A pain in the ass on the milk platform (not a kicker, though, thankfully), she’s the most fearful of dogs, most alert in general, definitely the most awkward, and always the first one to follow you on a walk through the woods. Actually she makes it kind of difficult to walk on account of her need to stay close. How close? Real close.  Alright, there it is. My brief introduction to Big Picture Farm’s 2011 inaugural milkers. Stay tuned for an introduction to our kids… Our 5 milkers! Described as only Luke could describe… This is probably the best day in goat reporting I’ve seen since I joined Tumblr.

icelandicbutterflies:

farmweather:

As you can see here, the goats are very content in their current pasture. This morning, as I approached the edge of the woods from the field (to lead them in to the barn for their morning milking), I was very amused by their natural arrangement. Two things in particular I wanted to mention in relation to the photo: 1) how photogenic they are…I mean, COME ON; (2) some further analysis of the image upon completion of said milking has left me baffled by just how succinctly their arrangement on the rocks depict their caprine-heirarchy, which they have, over the last few months, tirelessly sorted out. 

Thus, a brief introduction to our five milkers…

Orion - Front and center, she has very clearly claimed the throne. Our alpha. Neither easily flustered nor reactionary, Orion is our most stoic and fearless goat. She’s also the most generous milk-giver (producing well over 10 pounds of milk/day). She gave birth on the day of the largest full moon in twenty years (March 18, I think it was). Mothering Luna and Apollo, both of which we’ve kept and will raise here on the farm. She possesses somewhat of a split personality; she is simultaneously extremely easy to milk and handle (for us) and an outright bully toward her herd-mates. Not a bully all the time (on the contrary, she’s tranquil MOST of the time)—but when food enters the equation, watch out.

Fern - on Orion’s right (in the photo), she is our youngest milker. We picked her up and brought her to the farm back in November (just before Thanksgiving) along with Orion. She is by far the most unique of the bunch. She’s got this involuntary head twirl that concerned us at first but now comforts us…it’s her signature. It symbolizes how bewildered and spacey she is. Playful, moody, incredibly strong-willed, Fern’s one of those characters who just makes you laugh. She’d be the easiest goat to write a children’s book about, in other words. She LOVES any and ALL snacks: raisins, goldfish, sun chips, salt & vinegar chips. Loves them so much (and so much more than the others) that Louisa actually has to smuggle snacks to the others while I place Fern in a headlock.    

Next, above Orion, stands Cicada. She earned her name by providing the eerie and quiet electric chirping that scored our two-hour drive home from her previous farm in New Hampshire. She is bold (always butting the border collies who seem intent on herding our goats to and fro the milking parlor), likes to have her rump rubbed (who doesn’t!), and is aggressive and alert. Likes vetch and meadow flowers more than the rest, but has become equally content in the woods. A consistent and impressive milker (she’s only two), she’s milking 9+ pounds/day. Her milk is the foamiest for some reason. Like you could make a latte straight from the teat. Have I tried it? What do you think.

On Orion’s left stands the one and only, fearsome and difficult, complicated and loving, Gertrude Stein. Who is hands down the possessor of the biggest appetite on the farm. She birthed twins (Cy Twombly, Louisa’s fave, and Elvis, who’s hide I recently tanned and nailed to our wall…both wonderful goats), and still she looks pregnant with several more. She’s enormous. She’s also the most independent—the one most likely to wander off on her own absent-mindedly, hunting beech saplings and white pine, raspberry and apple buds. She’s also, in the milking parlor, a serious kicker. If you don’t pay attention, she could do some real damage (she often jabs up and back, aiming for your teeth). As such, she’s probably been scolded the most of them all. But at the end of the day, she’s Gertrude Stein. And she’s staying.

Last and lowest on the totem pole is our most delicate and noisy goat: Manhattan. Louisa and I cite different reasons for the name. Louisa insists that her beauty, stylishness, and sophisticated demeanor earned her the name. But I point to the more obvious attributes: that she is LOUD and OBNOXIOUS. But she’s also the most endearing of the bunch. A pain in the ass on the milk platform (not a kicker, though, thankfully), she’s the most fearful of dogs, most alert in general, definitely the most awkward, and always the first one to follow you on a walk through the woods. Actually she makes it kind of difficult to walk on account of her need to stay close. How close? Real close. 

Alright, there it is. My brief introduction to Big Picture Farm’s 2011 inaugural milkers. Stay tuned for an introduction to our kids…

Our 5 milkers! Described as only Luke could describe…

This is probably the best day in goat reporting I’ve seen since I joined Tumblr.

(via catherinewillis)

“While still in college [Elizabeth] Bishop met the poet Marianne Moore, who was twenty-four years her senior. Moore’s greatest lesson, she said later, was her insistence on getting every detail in a poem right. Bishop herself would go to astonishing pains to make sure that she was being accurate. For her poem “Crusoe in England,” she had a friend visit a goat farm to find out how goats open and close their eyes.”

Charles Simic, The Power of Reticence (via winesburgohio)

I lament the fact that I was not that friend.