How Now, Brain-enhancing Cow

Now and then I get a little mulish

Sometimes I whine about the research that goes into churning out 1000 words a week for the Farm Side. I've been at it since March of 1998 and there are weeks when those words are hard to find. (Funny how it's almost always easy to find something to blog about.)

However, other weeks I encounter a pile of fascinating articles that surprise and delight me, even after all those years.

Here are some from this week's round of treasure hunting.

Surprising ways milk makes us smarter....read this one even if you don't have time for the others. After the death by antibiotics of every good thing that once lived in my innards I have no problem believing the stuff lower down in the article.

Study finds cognitive function improved by drinking milk

More on the same

Cows are not eating your food

Kids doing the right thing without being asked.

For Holstein Folks..with a little on the Jersey Side Too

Dreamroad Extreme Heather

Here's a good story on the history of Osborndale Ivanhoe, including a bit on the lethal recessive that he and his offspring spread throughout the breed, due to their tremendous influence on the genetic makeup of the modern Holstein.

Recessive defects in dairy cattle. More on that.

Alan got a bit of interesting news the other day. A few years ago....maybe three...Liz had a nice little bull calf out of her venerable show Jersey, Dreamroad Extreme Heather. 

At the time calves were bringing almost nothing at the auction and Jersey bulls even less.

We had no use for him, but to send him to the sale and end up with nothing but a bill for trucking seemed foolish. Plus there was the fact that Heather came from a leading Jersey breeder of fine show cattle and the calf's sire was Sunset Canyon Mecca a bull that had done well for us.

So we let him stay for a while so as to puzzle out a sensible fate for him. Turned out one of Alan's good college friend's family raised registered Jerseys. Initially Liz gave the little guy to them, but they didn't think that was fair and paid her a decent price for him.

They registered him, raised him, and used him on their heifers. They rented him out to other breeders when they weren't using him and he bred those heifers too. As of now there are a LOT of his daughters around their area and I guess the farmers out there like them quite a lot.

And here comes the serendipity. He got to be a real big boy, too big for the heifers he was breeding. Thus his owners sent him to the auction barn, where he was sold to yet another breeder to go on with his Jersey-making career....and believe it or not, he was sold on the very day that our herd went, at the very same auction.

I am pretty sure this is a picture of the bull in question at about a day old

Ralph saw him sell, but of course didn't recognize him, as he was three years older and over a thousand pounds heavier than when he left our place.

Nice to know that an animal bred and born here at Northview and carrying the Maqua-Kil prefix, which Liz took over from his parents, went on to do so well for someone. 

Cow Pictures

Om, nom, nom

For ellie k.

Bama and Moon enjoying the grass

Bama Breeze in all her glory

The Tea Party and Me

Another day, another Tea Party. No not the political party, although that is another story.

Nope, this is the cow tea party. Check out the photo above, of Broadway lunging into the manger after hay, rather than waiting three seconds while I fork it in to her.

 What do you see wrong with the photo....besides the whole feet in the manger thing that is?

Bingo, you nailed it! The water bowl she shares with Dalkeith is full of hay. Actually, that is just a tiny bit of hay. If I don't clean that thing out twice a day, with my cold, bare, hands, one or the other of them will pack it so full of little bits of hay that I don't know how they drink.

Becky thinks it's Dal, but we really never see them doing it. It isn't accidentally dropped there either. No it is soundly crushed into the bottom of the bowl, layer upon layer, until if I don't get at it quickly enough I drag out a football-sized lump of wet, soggy, stems and bits. I clean it either when I'm feeding them or when I'm milking them.

I don't know why they do it though.

Either the culprit likes to dunk their food, like a kid with milk and a doughnut.

 Or they want to rinse their food before they eat it....like a raccoon. 

Or they are just making tea. Either way, I can't wait until they go to pasture in the spring....

A Funny Thing...or Several

A song sparrow sitting in the sparkly snow yesterday before the rain

Farm Side deadline is Wednesday at noon, or thereabouts. This week I wrote about how slow the early signs of spring are in arriving this year. Not the robins. We see them all year. But rather the first scent of earth, the first gilding of the willow trees, the first spring songs of the birds that hang around all winter, like chickadees and white-throated sparrows.

And then didn't yesterday bring most of those things...... It thawed like the devil, really fast and furious. Then it rained with considerable enthusiasm.

Soon calls of "Old Sam Peabody" rang through the shrubbery and the chickadees were going mad with spring songs. No sign of color on the willows yet though, and it will be a while yet before the maples put on their first blush of pink spring lipstick.

Meanwhile Bailey had a bad spell, went down and couldn't get up. Although she calved weeks ago and should have been long past "milk fever" the boss gave her a bottle of calcium. She was up in an hour or so.....

She seems to have a uterine infection along with the slight mastitis, so we are treating her with two antibiotics for the two conditions. If you were to see her now, you would find bright red crosses and lines drawn on her fanny and hind leg with oil crayon. That is so no one makes a mistake and milks her into the tank. There is also a record kept of everything we do for her, so we can be sure when her milk is safe to return to the bulk tank.

 

Every single tank load of milk that leaves the farm....and every farm...is tested. If you are caught trying to sell milk from a treated cow, you pay for the whole truck load. Needless to say we are careful. We don't even feed it to the bull caves. It is just dumped down the drain.

And thanks to a very nice person who sent us an antibiotic test kit that he isn't using any more, we can do our job better. Normally we would run a milk sample up to the vet's office and wait while they tested it for us. Now we can test our own right at the farm. 

Thank you all for your good wishes for Bailey. All eleven years old, she is the last Sandy Valley Ricky daughter we have, although at one time we had several. Her dam was one of the five Mansion Valley Delaware full sisters we had off a cow that would only breed to him and no other bull. Those five were really special cows, and did great for the kids in the show ring, as well as being good milkers and having very distinct personalities.

Fluttery Friday

The things you see on farm walks......

In the barn til well after nine last night. Sent Liz home early to get some rest. The rest of us chopped hay or fed hay or milked cows or delivered Broadway's great big bull calf, depending on our various abilities. 

Sorry about quality, taken with phone almost at dark

Can't tell you how amazing I find those milking shorthorns. Huge calf, hard birth because of it. Lungs full of fluid when born. We laid him head down on the edge of the hay pack for a few minutes and cleaned his nose and mouth with paper towels and hay, while mama licked his fanny and mooed sweet nothings at him.

Literally ten minutes later he was standing, and by the time the men had the wagon filled for the other cows he was following her around. This amazing hardiness is probably why our herd is slowly, but surely, turning red. Have a good one.

Good Morning from the Girls

 Pecan with her new baby boy...photo taken by Liz with her phone. He was sired by a Cal Clark Board Chairman son we had some years ago.

Lemmie is tall. Lemmie has a long neck. Lemmie can help herself to nice, fresh green chop that not many of the other cows can reach.

And so she does.

My cow, Asaki. Asaki is one of those cows you wish you could clone by the dozen. Calm, sensible, easy to milk and easy on the eyes. We like her.

Little bitty Scotty. Scotty is half Jersey, out of Broadway, who is half milking shorthorn and half Holstein, so she has the breeds pretty well covered. She is small, but she is a real hard worker..... pretty much the only Jersey I have ever enjoyed milking.

Here is a collage of Scotty's baby pictures.

Never Let Down

Your guard. Received my stipend from the paper this week and opted to spend it on groceries. Thus, after the many storied joys of shopping, we started milking a bit late.

Well, more than a bit. We were a good hour plus late to let the ladies down in to eat and equally askew in the hour of putting them in the barn.

Just about dark.

Becky, who was letting them into the barn two or three at a time, so we can get the new little SWD Valiant* daughter safely into her new stall calls out to us.

"Cows are going up the hill." She hollers.

No big thing. Sometimes when they finish the feed they head back to pasture. They generally realize their mistake and come back down in a minute.

"Cows are going up the hill," she calls again.

Well, yes all right, we'll get them in a minute, just let us get the rest of them locked up in their stalls.

Then she barged into the barn in a grump and stomped off up the hill.

The other hill.

Some rotten little somebody had jumped on top of the gate that leads to the rest of the farm and bent it beyond redemption. A good third took advantage and ran off.

I won't bore you with the hour-and-a-half at least details of the chase. I stayed at the barn at the broken gate to keep the remainder of the ones who didn't get out and don't go in the barn confined. And to direct traffic when the runaways returned

Beck and the boss ranged over hill and dale, through head-high thistles and burs, in the dark, chasing the naughty beggars. 

It took a long, awful time. Eventually the escapees stampeded into the barnyard and stood, heads up, breath whistling, and obviously thinking, whoa, that was fun!

Tails full of burs are so nice at milking time. The better to beat you with, my pretty.

I felt so bad about being at the barn while they ran and tripped and stumbled and swore that I bought them sundaes for supper. Ice cream will cure a lot of ills and even if if it doesn't wipe off the bramble scratches, it does help you forget about them.

Worst of it was, as soon as those that were milked were turned back outside, they ran right up to the gate that they broke, ready to do it all again.

Joke's on them. The boss hung a monstrous feeder gate in its place. Awful heavy to open and close, but if they jump that we'll put them under saddle and take them to the Maryland Hunt Cup.  Won't we be famous then.
  

Chasing cows sure gets old fast.

*Have I mentioned finally having a daughter of the great old bull SWD Valiant? No? Guess I've been keeping quiet so as not to jinx her. I have waited over thirty years for this.

It's the Cows

New cow shaped milk bottles.....

I want one!

Blue Bucket Love

Not terribly appetizing is it?

You've heard of cupboard love? Hearabouts we have blue bucket love.

Stop at my stall....please, please, please?

Every morning and evening at the beginning of chores I walk along the manger with the blue bucket. Cows and calves throw their heads up and down and look at me hopefully.....'stop at my stall, no mine, no mine'.

 Feel the love!

Starts with REALLY BIG pellets

Not everybody gets a visit from the blue bucket lady. The dry cows are fat enough, as are the tail-enders. However, the fresh cows, the steers and the younger calves all get a handful...or two...or maybe even more, of the contents of my delightful blue bucket.

Then when everyone has had their treat, I pour a couple of inches of these great big pellets into the bottom and fill it up with water. Come next chore time the pellets have turned into a lovely mash that cows just love.

The product is beet pulp, a favorite of show cows forever.....regular cows like it too.

My Own Cows

Our herd is mostly registered or eligible for registry and we each own our own cows, so we always know who is who. Because I pay the bills I am usually more willing to sell mine when the time comes than might otherwise be the case.

Thus, my herd was getting pretty small. However, with the boss giving me Asaki things were looking up.

Then I was just on the phone with Alan, who almost never makes it home any more, and he gave me Zulu, AKA Alpha Zulu Pinecone, or "Runner" because she always comes into the barn on a high jog and you don't wanna get in her way.

I am delighted. I always milked and liked her mother, old Zinnia, a swing-bagged, big-bodied old misery, who liked me for some reason and pretty much let me do whatever I wanted with her. Otherwise I couldn't have milked her as she was HUGE and her udder hung almost to the floor and was wide as a washtub. Not being awful stretchy in length, I had to put my head right down under her to milk her. If she had wanted to she could have killed me, but she never did. She was not quite as kind to others and was a calf thief as well.

So anyhow, I have two new (to my bunch) cows to add to those I already own.

Let's see....Broadway my original milking shorthorn, Scotty, my three-breed cow, Egypt, small, black, cranky, but hard-working, Velvet, not exactly my favorite, but...Northstar, another milking shorthorn, Dublin, young cow I got in a trade, Carlene, probably my best cow, another one the boss gave me, and Lucky, red carrier, bred back to Maxwell, hoping for a red heifer, but not holding my breath.

Some heifers too, Betty, a Citation-R Maple coming up to calving, a few more milking shorthorns, Pumpkin, Laramie, Rosie, her full sister, Bloomingdale, Strawberry, Cayenne, some Holsteins, including Liverpool, Lucky's last year's calf, Bastille, sister to Bama Breeze, a shorthorn steer calf, CleoPatrick (out of Egypt), and probably a couple of others I am not thinking of.

Wow, I feel lucky! No wonder I keep wanting to hang on and keep going with such a good bunch of girls (and the one steer).

Holstein Business Losing Stars

Within the past few weeks the highly regarded Hoskings herd was dispersed. Well-known among the folks in the industry, they will be missed for sure. We bought a bull from them once, Hosking-Brunn MWOD Arvid, a Melwood son off the Homestead SS Bell Alice cow. He did pretty well for us. We were real sorry to see them selling out.

Then Hurricane Sandy hit their neighbors, the Post family and the Post cows went to live in the vacant Hosking barn until they too can be sold, the eighth of next month. 

We also bought a bull from them, Pineyvale Cmatt Glen, some years ago. Liz's cow Foolish is a granddaughter. We have fond memories of showing under Mr. Post at the Fonda Fair and winning Intermediate Senior calf with a Mansion-Valley Delaware daughter named Birch, who was by far the youngest calf in the class, born in mid-February. She was also smaller than the others, but Mr. Post really liked her. It was a thrill for Becky to have a calf do so well. 

(We loved that cow family btw...one cow of ours had five daughters by Delaware. Three of them, Birch,  Beech, and Balsam did well at the show and had nice show careers for us. Butternut was a fine milker and had some good daughters. Alas the oldest died calving as a fairly young cow. Bayberry was off Balsam and my favorite cow, milking shorthorn Broadway is a daughter of Bayberry. Rosie, Broadway's daughter had a nice show career as a shorthorn, winning Grand Champion milking shorthorn twice, and I have a big full sister to her coming along now.)

With Ocean-View selling their cows, Spungold, and so many others going out, you have to wonder what the Holstein business is going to look like by the time the current downturn and all the disasters are over.

Thank You Milk

I'm not sure how many sixty-year old women could withstand a full force, apex of the swing kick from a 1300+ pound cow, without significant damage...... I did just that this morning though, and although I have a dent and a bruise and they heard the crack all the way over on the other side of the barn and came running, I think I will be okay. At least I finished milking and chores and am not limping much more than usual.

I blame the milk I have drunk at almost every meal, almost all my life. I also thank the kind Lord that she caught me in the best possible spot, mid-way up my thigh, so no joints or tender bits were damaged. She even missed my cell phone.

I am not too happy with the cow though. She has always kicked out behind at men, although not usually women and we handle her accordingly, not scraping up behind her or working on the gutter chain without putting her outdoors first. 

However, Becky and I have milked her for years....she is seven years old...and always been kind and gentle with her. I spoke to her as I was walking behind her. I was watching for her so I wouldn't get kicked, staying close to the wall, but she spun sideways and nailed me for no obvious reason other than that she could. 

The boss will be milking her for a while I guess.

Lakota

The last remaining daughter of the best cow I ever bred, Frieland LV Dixie. Dixie was grand champion Holstein twice at Altamont and won numerous other awards that have slipped my mind. I gave her to Liz to show, so Lakota belongs to her.

Lakota is nine years old and is a daughter of Four-of-a-Kind Eland, a bull that has done quite well for us over the years. She has had seven calves, alas mostly bulls, and is on service to Carnation Counseler. Hopefully she caught and will give us a heifer, but you simply never know in this business. Every thing is a gamble with no guarantees. 

World Dairy Expo

I have never gone....odds are I will never get there....but thanks to the wonders of the Internet we crowd around the kitchen table watching classes live and exclaiming. 

"Too posty for me."

"Bulgy fore udder."

"Ooh, look at that one!"

Yeah, you can watch too, right here. And there are archives of all the previous videos right here.

Enjoy, but just so you know, these things are worse than potato chips. You can't watch just one and if you get sucked into that live feed, forget about it. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Hi, My Name is Foolish

Foolish

Watch out for that tail!

"Did you hear what the boss said?"

Small Pleasures

There is such a feeling of something impending these days, and along with it a sense of endings. I find autumn both stimulating and uncomfortable.....

I guess the boss is going to stop trying to bale hay and fall to chopping and bagging it. Hopefully the rains don't get carried away and he can get some of the second and third cutting that is out there stored away for winter. It is good stuff.

Been chopping it green right along and feeding it to our girls morning and night and they are doing great on it. In a wet year green chop like that tends to go right through them without doing much good, but in a dry year it puts the fat on their backs and the milk in their udders.

It is a treat for a farm heart to walk behind a line of contented cows each morning and evening, milking machines in hand. Seeing rows of smooth, tight udders, full of good wholesome milk, waiting for you to step up in the stall, gently prep them, each with a separate, clean, paper towel and disinfectant solution, then dry them, strip out a couple shots of "fore milk", and attach the milkers. 

They actually milk out quicker when they are producing well, and are happy for your ministrations for the most part, although there are always a few who ignore you as they stretch and quest for that last pellet of grain each day. 

I can attest that it hurts to be stepped on or slammed across the head with a hard, bony tail. Broadway is irritable until she has finished her grain and will kick me intentionally if I interrupt her....and of course she is the first cow on my string so I have to. Still it is really comforting to see them doing well.

It is not the glow of great profits, although it is nice to every now and then make enough to pay the bills. It is the delight of working with animals that you love and being able to do it right. Knowing that they are comfortably doing what they do, in partnership with you doing what you do brings a deep satisfaction that new clothes or a new car can't equal. Nothing shallow about a good cow.

The boss was saying the other day that he didn't think he would miss them much if we had to sell out though. They are stern task masters and he is tired.....getting worn out from decade upon decade of hard physical work each day. The knees don't bend, shoulders ache, especially the one he broke, and he can barely lift his feet to step over stuff any more. 

The mid-sixties are not an easy time to do what he is doing. He has been milking cows since he was a little boy and driving tractor for field work since he was nine. It gets harder each year I think.

I told him that I would miss them and badly though....but then I came late to this business, only 34 years of milking cows for me to his fifty-plus.

Anniversary of Irene

This is what happens when you let the boys chalk tail heads

You remember her. She stopped in this time last year and left a legacy of devastation that still haunts much of the Schoharie Valley and even places right down the road. 

And this

We were personally very fortunate, but neighbors lost a lot. However, one of my most compelling memories of the time of trouble was the overwhelming spirit of help and cooperation that infused the center of Upstate NY. It's impossible not to be proud of the people who pulled together for their neighbors and who still, a whole year later, are fundraising and volunteering for clean up and rebuilding efforts.

It was just a little nerve wracking to hear the rain begin to thunder down again last night, but although things are mighty soggy, it seems to have stopped and the forecast doesn't look too bad. Hope it stays nice as we would like to get over to the fair a couple of times this week. Liz took the pony over so we are down two people for a good part of the week. Nobody here but Becky and the old folks.

This is what they were supposed to be doing

On the Egypt-BooBoo cow front, so far so good. I went outside when the cows were coming into the barn yesterday morning and made her stay outdoors. Then I milked Dublin and turned her out so Egypt couldn't get me and let Egypt come inside. At night the boss offered to do the squeezing in between and getting squashed. He is bigger than me and a darn sight tougher and Egypt didn't even give him any trouble.

Conquering Fear

Didn't sleep much last night. A long day; the boy off to work out of state again, and fear, so much fear.

It might not show much but I am timid about mean animals. I deal, because it is my job, but the fear is always there.

A couple of days ago Egypt, my gentle little Boo Boo cow from last year, had a big, black, half-shorthorn bull calf, a not unwelcome addition to the beef side of the program.

However, during her dry period, which was longer this year than the accustomed 6 to 8 weeks, Boo Boo decided that she didn't want people to come in the stall with her. She took to jumping sideways at anyone who dared to walk up in beside her. There is no stall divider there......We figured she would get over it when she calved....they usually become quite amenable at that time...and turned her back outdoors after she ate her grain.

Last year she stood next to an empty stall stall anyhow, so we didn't need to get that close to her. This year Dublin stands in the formerly empty stall so when Boo Boo jumps, there is a somewhat nervous, large, bony animal upon which to be crushed. Yesterday I tied her head to a pipe so she could only go just so far and then thin, supple, agile, fearless and almost four decades younger than I am, Alan milked Dublin. Once Dublin was turned out it was no biggie to milk Boo Boo. No anvil for the crushing surface.

However, he's gone to Jersey.....so I am more or less on my own.

I woke up at 3, afraid. Couldn't sleep. Visions of large, miserable, black rumps squashing me and big hooves stomping my feet.

However, thankfully the good Lord saw fit to give the less brawny among us the stuff between our ears. Around about 5 AM I had a thought.

I will milk Carlene and Bama Breeze, who stand on the other side of Dublin and turn them outside. Carlene has a good stall divider. I will have the girls help me put Boo Boo up in HER stall so I can milk Dublin without getting the squeeze put on me.

Problem solved. It was just about time to get up but I got just a little bit of real good sleep.Thank you sir.

Gingers Gotta Stick Together

Three milking shorthorns sharing the salt lick...Northstar, Rosie and Cinnamon.