Bearded Ladies

Suddenly I am surrounded by goats. One offers her head for me to scratch, another nibbles at my trousers, and a third investigates my shoes, without finding anything of interest. When Lars Tyssebotn, a sturdy farmer in his late forties, lets his goats out in the morning, nothing even remotely edible is safe. The goats crowd the hillside and will not let anybody, particularly not an exotic city boy like me with funny clothes and funny smells of unknown things, pass without a thorough inspection.

Lars is a maverick, one of by Norway’s few remaining goat farmers. His goats are allowed to live life as nature intended, roaming the hillsides, eating whatever they can find. Once a necessary and much-appreciated part of every farm, goats are not particularly popular anymore, and their often-tough meat and strong-tasting milk fail to compete with other meats and milk, although goat milk still has its role in the production of goat cheese.