I can't think about my father without also thinking about the herd of Holstein cows he cared for and which provided him with a good income when other parts of his farming operation varied with the whims of the markets. Dad was many things with this herd: manager, strategist, veterinarian, planner, breeder, and caretaker. He actually did have a special relationship with each animal, and they responded to him in ways they would not with others. They were much better behaved in the barn than other dairy cows I happened to be around. Milk from the herd was tested monthly for quality and quantity. I still have some of his herd record books. He occasionally received awards for the production levels of selected cows or the overall herd. Dad was a very good dairy farmer. He didn't have a proper barn or the money to invest in a grade A milking operation. Grade A is for human consumption and means pipelines and bulk tanks and a level of cleanliness that simply wasn't possible with the resources Dad had available. Instead, his operation was grade B. That milk was dried and used for making animal feed and other products. Dad always said that it was the cows who put my sister and me through college and allowed him many other benefits in his later life.
I did a share of work with these cows too, including feeding them, cleaning their barn, assisting with the births of calves, and herding them to/from pasture. When I first got involved at a young age, Dad was selling cream instead of whole milk. That meant processing the milk through a cream separator. This was my job. I could start when Dad was about half finished milking and then be done only a little after all the cows had been milked. We used the skim milk (left over after the cream was removed) to make feed for Dad's hogs (we called it slop) or to feed calves. When I was old enough, Dad sometimes left me in charge of the farm so that he and Mom could travel. Getting up at 4:30AM every morning to do the milking and then doing it again at 5PM every evening with lots of other work in-between makes one appreciate how hard farmers work.
Betsy was pretty small the last few years that Mom and Dad were on the farm, but Rob and Will remember being there. Here are some pictures I love. Rob, with his curly blonde hair, is watching his grandfather milk a cow and then pour the results into a tall pail.
I did a share of work with these cows too, including feeding them, cleaning their barn, assisting with the births of calves, and herding them to/from pasture. When I first got involved at a young age, Dad was selling cream instead of whole milk. That meant processing the milk through a cream separator. This was my job. I could start when Dad was about half finished milking and then be done only a little after all the cows had been milked. We used the skim milk (left over after the cream was removed) to make feed for Dad's hogs (we called it slop) or to feed calves. When I was old enough, Dad sometimes left me in charge of the farm so that he and Mom could travel. Getting up at 4:30AM every morning to do the milking and then doing it again at 5PM every evening with lots of other work in-between makes one appreciate how hard farmers work.
Betsy was pretty small the last few years that Mom and Dad were on the farm, but Rob and Will remember being there. Here are some pictures I love. Rob, with his curly blonde hair, is watching his grandfather milk a cow and then pour the results into a tall pail.
1 comment:
Moo!
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