Via Community News Service, a University of Vermont journalism internship
BARNARD — For Lauren Gitlin, the decision to suddenly retire her 53-goat herd from milking was not one she envisioned making when she opened her own dairy in 2019.
But as an animal lover and vegetarian, Gitlin began to question whether running her dairy business, Villa Villekulla Farm in Barnard, was still aligned with her values.
“When you’re handling these animals day after day, you forge these very deep relationships with them, and the longer I worked with them, the harder it became for me to really justify even some of the minor realities of keeping them for commercial production,” Gitlin said.
Over the years, Gitlin has either kept the goats that are no longer making milk or finds them homes where they will not be killed for meat. But this spring, she decided to retire her milking herd for good and start a new venture: A non-profit sanctuary that offers animal-assisted therapy.
With the dairy out of production, Gitlin has found a unique way to provide for her lively herd while keeping them on the farm.
“There are many different ways that I can continue to have my goats and offer some of the things that they have been so generous in offering me to other people,” she said.
In 2014, Gitlin moved from Brooklyn to Vermont to work in the dairy industry, motivated by a love for cheese and a desire to be involved in the craftsmanship of the production process. She first worked for Laini Fondiller at Lazy Lady Farm in Westfield before working at farms as far away as Italy.
After returning to Vermont, Gitlin rented a barn and creamery space in Tunbridge and began her dairy in 2019, with just three pregnant goats given to her by Fondiller. From there, the herd grew to 53 “hand-hugged” goats, whose milk Gitlin used to craft various goat’s milk products including skyr, a traditional Icelandic cultured dairy product.
Gitlin says she originally planned to slowly scale back the dairy, but her current pregnancy motivated her to more quickly find a way for the goats to be productive without having to continuously breed them.
She eventually decided on the animal sanctuary idea. Animal-assisted therapy involves trained providers coaching patients through treatment sessions where interacting with the animal is central to the process, according to the American Veterinary Medical Association.
Studies have shown that engaging with therapy animals reduces patients’ cortisol levels and blood pressure while increasing oxytocin production, a hormone that creates positive feelings. The method has shown to be effective for patients with illnesses such as anxiety, depression and post-traumatic stress disorder.
Gitlin aims to partner with a licensed mental-health provider to offer a more rigorous and directed animal-assisted therapy program on her farm. She named Moonrise Therapeutics, a non-profit near Woodstock that uses horses in their treatment programs, as a possible model and collaborator. Gitlin is still determining what the therapeutic programming may look like.
The sanctuary isn’t yet open to the public, but the goats have already shown promise as therapy animals. Villa Villekulla Farm volunteer Bruce McClellan said he’s noticed a difference in himself since starting work at the farm last year.
“I always feel better when I come home. I honestly can say I wasn’t expecting this outcome. But every day I come home from being around these animals, I feel better. I feel more relaxed. I feel just happier,” he said.
McClellan has been volunteering at various animal organizations since his retirement five years ago. He said he connects the therapeutic benefits of goats and other animals to the effect they unconsciously have on those around them.
“They’re just so goofy and so friendly. And animals in general are completely unconditional. They’re just there for you. Once I’m around them, it just kind of falls away,” he said.
Valentina Jaramillo, a former Villa Villekulla intern, echoed this sentiment. She said Gitlin’s goats have provided an opportunity for connection and a lesson in self-love during periods of anxiety and loneliness.
“Any measure of time I spend with Lauren’s goats is an opportunity for me to slow down and feel present in my body, present for myself but also present for the wonderful animal who is being present for me,” she said.
Jaramillo, who formerly taught preschool, said the goats’ childlike personalities and cartoonish appearances can improve mental health, even for those who may be skeptical.
“Their eyes bulge ever so slightly out from their skulls. They are sort of lumpy. It’s an automatic rush of serotonin. You begin to imagine what they want to say to you, what they are thinking. Like any good relationship, it’s partly imaginary. But it is a real bond,” she said.
While the project seeks to help humans in need, the business will help Gitlin support her aging herd, many of whom require more complex veterinary care. One such goat is Frida, who has deformed back hooves, requiring her to be sedated to maintain them.
The herd’s matriarch, Placer, namesake of the road where the farm is located, may have cancer. Gitlin said she’s grateful that ending dairy production has given her more time to devote to aging goats like Placer, giving them more one-on-one care.
Gitlin says the project is being built from the ground up, and she is still in the early stages of setting up her non-profit with more steps to go. In the meantime, the farm supports its non-productive members with donations made via its website.
Gitlin said she hopes to someday create other opportunities for people to connect with the goats, such as by offering artist residencies on the farm.
“I’ve found so much enrichment and fulfillment and comfort from being with these animals and working with them,” she said. “I think there’s so much potential there.”