I enjoy a nice cold glass of whole milk. It tastes good to me. Maybe because I grew up drinking it. We always had milk available, It also may be why I have such good bones now. When I had my bone scan, the doctor told me that I had the bones of an 18 year old. I asked him if he didn't think she would miss them.
Well Ken this valuable information comes much too late to help you, but to milk a goat without problems, you need a milking bench to lock their head in and it needs a side so you can put your head in their flank, push them up against side, and this disables kicking.
That's a big part of why the cows were easy, I suppose. But the stanchions used for the cows didn't fit the goat and we only had one goat, so I don't suppose anyone was going to build or buy one. I can remember only one cow too, but we used to have more cows so the stanchions were there. We had spaces for about twenty or more cows so I suppose my parents once depended more on dairy than they were when I came along. Besides, I'm sure everyone enjoyed watching me try to milk that damned goat.
We didn't have the stanchions. As I remember, Daisy was tied to some kind of post. Then you rubbed her back and sides gently so that she would be clam and then you proceeded with the milking. All our cows were named Daisy. I don't know why. Mama would call her up from the pasture at milking time by calling, "Coooweee, coooweee". She would come plodding up to the gate, ready to be milked. The only time I ever remember her kicking the bucket was once when she was bitten by a horsefly. She kicked trying to get rid of the horsefly and kicked the bucket.
Yes, I have milked both. Never liked cows because of 4 teats. I could get a rhythm going on a goat using both hands and could milk out a gallon in a hurry. My dads hobby was having a few registered prize Alpine milk goats. He didn't get interested until I was about 8 and could milk them. He had me spend a month one summer on one of his cousins dairy goat farms. They taught me to milk and I worked my way up to 20 goats twice daily. They all gave a half gallon to a gallon at each milking. So went I came home I was accompanied by four does. It was his hobby, but my JOB to milk all them before and after school! I had rather help castrating cattle or shoveling chicken poo. When I reached age 12 I informed my dad that I was a lady now and that ladies don't get their hair all nasty from goats flanks, especially before school. My name wasn't Heidi and we didn't live in the Swiss Alps! My mother backed me up that the goats needed to be sold as no one drank the milk and we were both tired of making cheese that tasted like weeds. The only cows I milked were at my grandparents farm. Besides the extra teats that aggrivated me, they would always wait to poop until milking time. That stuff splatters badly on a concrete floor. Then add a little urine for fun. I wore coveralls and started wearing a scarf as washing my hair twice a day was unnecessary in my opinion.