Cows are milked twice a day, early morning and in the evening and it’s as if they have a clock in their heads, they always know when it is time to be milked, and they like staying on a schedule. On our farm we had one milk cow, her name was Whitey, and she was all white. Bonnie and I had to milk her each evening, another family member did the morning milking. Cows like efficiency and Whitey preferred us to be on time and to work fast but we did neither. She was out in the pasture all day eating grass but she knew when milking time was and she was always on time and waiting at the barn door when Bonnie and I arrived.
Barn’s have gismos that city folk don’t really think about, read about or hear about. First the cow comes into the barn and puts her head in a stall, once her head is in, the stall is fastened so she doesn’t back up while milking. Whitey’s incentive was a bucket of grain waiting on the other side of the stall so she put her head through without reservation. Hobbling was the next step, you must hobble the cow before milking, this is another device, kind of a leg brace, that you fasten to the cow’s back legs to keep her from kicking, mainly you don’t want her to kick the milk bucket over, or to get dirt into the milk. I know the word hobbling sounds like something from a bad horror movie but this is just business as usual on the farm. These are necessary procedures and not harmful or hurtful to the cow and Whitey knew the routine well. Bonnie and I were often a bit late and Whitey would give us a disgusted snort. She tried to look fierce but her bluff didn’t work on us.
Barn’s have gismos that city folk don’t really think about, read about or hear about. First the cow comes into the barn and puts her head in a stall, once her head is in, the stall is fastened so she doesn’t back up while milking. Whitey’s incentive was a bucket of grain waiting on the other side of the stall so she put her head through without reservation. Hobbling was the next step, you must hobble the cow before milking, this is another device, kind of a leg brace, that you fasten to the cow’s back legs to keep her from kicking, mainly you don’t want her to kick the milk bucket over, or to get dirt into the milk. I know the word hobbling sounds like something from a bad horror movie but this is just business as usual on the farm. These are necessary procedures and not harmful or hurtful to the cow and Whitey knew the routine well. Bonnie and I were often a bit late and Whitey would give us a disgusted snort. She tried to look fierce but her bluff didn’t work on us.
Bonnie and I were not crazy about milking, but it was a chore that had to be done every day without fail. Milk stools have three legs and I don’t know why. The person milking sits on the little stool with the bucket just under the cows teats and leans forward into the cow placing your head against the cow’s flank, real close and personal. We took turns milking while the other one entertained. One of us would sing and dance while the other one milked. We mostly sang Elvis numbers; very loud renditions of Blue Suede Shoes; Hound Dog; Jailhouse Rock; All Shook Up, we had some dance moves that even Ed Sullivan hadn’t seen. Whitey didn’t share our love for Elvis, but it was her price to pay for her bucket of grain. I look back on this now and remember the laughs and fun we made during this daily chore. We sang and danced like Elvis and milking became secondary, but we always took a bucket of milk back to the house.
