Favorite Cows

Pretty near everybody who keeps multiple animals has a favorite or two, even if they'd rather not admit it. It is certainly that way on a small dairy farm. Every day, twice a day, you get out there and milk them and in between they are fed and cleaned up after and all those sorts of chores. Spending all that time with them, you get to know them pretty well. They all have different personalities and you soon notice them.

Having said that, things happen to animals, just like they do to people. Folks have car accidents, or are victim of all sorts of calamities. Cows get caught in fences, beat up by other cows and have other troublesome difficulties too. I can attest, from a lifetime of personal experience, that calamities almost NEVER happen to animals that you don't like. If there is a cow that won't go in her stall, that kicks you every time you come within reach; if she is a dirty, snidely, miserable witch, nothing will ever, ever happen to her.

However, your favorite cow, now, that is another story. If there is a loose wire she will get caught in it. If there is a bully she is sure to be the victim. My personal favorite cow is a little black Citation R Maple daughter named England. She is not particularly lovely, being too small for the ideal and having a head shaped like a cracker box. She is not particularly friendly either, with feet that are so light they come right off the floor quite easily when she wishes to express displeasure. However, she is clean, easy to milk and a wonderful producer. She was, in fact, top ME heifer last year in our barn. She is also a red carrier and has a sweet calf by Golden Oaks Andy, which I named E-Train.

Naturally, she stepped on her back teat the other day. Then she did it again the day after that and the day after that until she had it mangled like hamburger. The boss managed to get her stanchion adjusted so she isn't doing it any more, but it was almost impossible to get any milk out of the injured teat because of the swelling. I was distraught more than someone who doesn't love a cow could imagine. That kind of injury all too frequently leads to infection, loss of the affected quarter or even unplanned culling of the victim. The prognosis is never very happy for a cow with a crushed teat. Then, last night, I could not get poor England milked by machine no matter what I did.

Enter Alan, who is a real good guy when he wants to be. He sat on an upended bucket for at least half of milking, with his head in her flank, trusting her not to kick him to hell and back and hand milked her. Unless you are Amish this is a darned hard job. Had he not done it though, I don't know what would have happened. It certainly would not have been good.

This morning although things didn't go perfectly, I was able to get her machine milked. She was a lot more comfortable than she was last night too. I sure am hoping she comes along and doesn't step on herself again. Anyhow, I have to say thanks to Alan for buying her at least a bit more time.