Confessions of a Modern Milkmaid

I do some of my best thinking while milking our cow.

 I've written books, planned delectable dinner menus, devised neat gift ideas, re-worked house floor plans, solved world hunger, and found peace on earth.  I might be exaggerating, but not by much.  It’s hard to explain the tranquility in milking (by hand, of course) our three-quarter Jersey, one-quarter Holstein named Bambi.  The smooth, leathery skin of engorged teats slowly dwindling to wrinkly, empty folds; the rhythmic steady streams that fill the metal pail with every pulse from my hands and aching forearms; the grinding of cud; the whir of the fan in the hot summer air or the cold breath from my nostrils colliding with the warmth of her body; the mild grease of a healthy mama’s coat as my face or arm brushes along the soft hair of her leg.  It’s a perfect environment for reflection.  I’d be lying if I said I look forward to each milking. I don’t.  Lots of times I’m racing the clock before, during, and after. Just as often my thoughts are full of To Do lists and scheduling acrobatics yet to be attempted as I wish beyond wishes that this last teat would FINALLY strip out so I can strain, pour the milk, rinse the pail and get on with my day.  However, I've found that more than any other daily task, it’s milking that allows me, forces me even, to slow down. 

August Afternoon Milking 2011

From the time I sit down to the moment I set the full pail aside takes me about fifteen minutes.  Seasoned milkers like my father-in-law who grew up hand milking a few cows before school like to smirk with amusement when they hear this number.  On average it takes him 5-8 minutes.  Not bad for a retired Banker/CPA!  Thanks to his early days, he's a wonderful substitute milker and handy source of farming advice. (Though he kept farming as a lifestyle all along, I bet he never expected hand-milking to come back and haunt him later in life!)  Despite my strong, piano-player hands I can’t help that I’m petite and do not have the good fortune of genes that ensured Popeye-sized forearms; nor did I begin milking in my developmental years with the superb outcome of growing a set.  A good fifteen minutes it is (at first it took almost 30!).  And for fifteen each day I am confronted by the drone…repetition…calm.  It’s a daily choice to be swept up in the bustling or engage in the slowness as I sit on an upturned plastic milk crate, leaning deeply into the side of a warm cow.  To milk is something that simply can't be rushed.

Before you run off to find a Bambi and your own daily dose of bovine serenity I must admit that the setting of the scene described above could just as easily read something more like this depending on the day:  Today, Bambi decided to nap at the far end of the paddock, so I walked across the soaking field to lead her unwillingly to the barn. This time of year it's a toss up whether or not the sun has made ANY attempt at lighting the sky as I begin my task. The splattered manure on her ankles has systematically been wiped on her utter with each step toward the milking station making my prep work to wipe her down take that much longer.  Her calf didn’t get to nurse recently enough for his liking and wants in on the action as I’m desperately trying to get on with the process myself.  Her swatting tail (remember that splattered manure?) has swiped my face one too many times and to top it off as I’m finishing with a full pail she administers a quick itch with her foot dropping sawdust, dirt, and poo into my otherwise rewarding pail of milk.  Hope the dogs or pigs are thirsty. 

Growing Boy - January 2012

I still like milking. In the scheme of things, Bambi is a lady and now that we are all settled into a rhythm with one another, she stands mostly still, patiently waiting, even dozing, while I work.  Her bull calf Napoleon, whose sire was a miniature jersey bull, is five months now and definitely a solid-bodied little chunk.  He gladly affords us the option for once-a-day milking.  When he was grown enough that we knew he was eating hay and could drink about as much as Bambi was producing we stopped milking at afternoon chores and instead began to separate him from Bambi overnight.  In the morning we milk her to our liking (usually one gallon) and let him finish the job, staying with her in the pasture for the rest of the day.  It's one of the blessings of having a "large" calf that we can get by milking only once per day -- one less thing on the afternoon's list.  With seven gallons a week we have plenty for us and to share.    

Owning a milk cow had been on our list for some time, but it wasn't until this past July when a neighbor of ours offered Bambi for sale completely out of the blue that we got a kick in the pants and figured we were as ready as we were going to be.  Napoleon was born within three weeks and we were off and running.  Weldon grew up with cattle around and I've been around them enough to be somewhat comfortable, but the nature of a milk cow, her personality, habits, and those of her calf are all a learning curve to be reckoned with.  Throughout the past five months I've realized that this is a long-term, personal relationship, one that's set apart from any other cattle on the homestead.

Kisses For Mom

We know there's still a ton to learn, experiment with, and master, especially when it comes to dairy in the kitchen. This is just one more aspect of food self-sufficiency that we're really pleased to undertake. One interesting thing about this addition to our homestead roster is that I do the milking and Weldon does the dairying.  Of all the time I spend in the kitchen and he in the field farming, go figure that it’d be Bambi that would flip flop us into a whole new world.  While I learn life lessons about simplicity and daily reflection he makes 2-gallon batches of yogurt.  Like a mad scientist he devises mouth-watering herb or fruit concoctions for his farmer’s cheese blends and attempts world records for fastest butter churning.   I'm certain that there's sour cream, cream cheese, and some aged cheeses in our future.  Who knew the benefits of adding a milk cow to our homestead would go so far beyond a cold glass of milk. 

The Nitty Gritty: Milking
Our tools of the trade are:
A standard stainless steel 9-quart milk pail
No-scent natural baby wipes
Bag Balm or other mild antiseptic salve
Natural-ingredient concentrated fly spray, we use Ecto-Phyte mixed with water 1:10
Cheese cloth (the fine weave real stuff, not what you buy in the craft section) or butter muslin
About a dozen 1/2-gallon Ball jars, though any size glass jar with a good seal to the top will do
  
When Bambi is brought to the barn and fastened in the milking stall I first wipe each teat with a baby wipe making sure not to use the same wipe from one teat to the next.  As I do this I can feel the bag and quarters swell. I squeeze each teat a few times to engage the milk flow and "clean out the pipes" before officially beginning.  Next, I give my hands a thorough cleaning with a fresh wipe.  Putting the pail in place I milk until either each quarter is "stripped" or I've taken as much milk I need, whichever comes first.  For Bambi, I can tell that a quarter is nearly stripped when the teat becomes flaccid and after a pause I get only a few squirts of milk and then nothing in response to my squeeze.  Obviously, it's important to learn each specific cow and her calf when making decisions to go to once-a-day milking. Miscalculations can under-nourish the calf or leave the cow teats with unstripped milk, potentially causing mastitis or other health issues.  Next, I slather each quarter with a generous amount of salve to prevent chapping.  Bambi's shift is then complete and she's turned into the pasture with the calf.  Finally I double fold a piece of cheese cloth or butter muslin and lay it over the top of a clean jar pouring the milk in slowly so the cloth catches any bits of hair, skin, etc. that may be floating in the milk.  The cloth and the pail get a quick rinse at the hydrant and a thorough washing with soap and HOT water at home (the cloth is put through the washing machine).  The milk is immediately refrigerated and eventually dipped of its cream. Both are thoroughly enjoyed in a variety of forms.  


For home dairy recipes, cheese culture, products, and other wonderful tips I recommend works by Ricki Carroll and the website dairyconnection.com