Of Cats & Cows. Part two.

Of Guernsey’s and Holsteins.
~ by Colette & JoAnn

A self-sustaining farm wouldn’t be that with the good ‘ole milk’n cow.  Ours was no different.  She was a beautiful tan and white Guernsey who was gentle but smart – for a cow.  She was the old reliable queen of the pasture, endowed with enough ‘cow sense’ to stay out of trouble.  Unlike the resident queen, a couple of Holsteins Dad put out to pasture alongside her had an entirely different temperament. 

Of the 80 acres we owned, five of them were dedicated to our milk cow(s).   When it came time to milk, you could hear a slow & steady voice of Dad or one of our brothers calling “Come boss!  Come boss.”  That was all the coxing needed for Ol’ Bossie.  She compliantly meandered into the barn and stood quietly while she selflessly gave us our daily supply of milk.  Then it was back out to pasture. Inside the pasture was a small shed where we kept smaller farm equipment such as the ‘tiller.  It used to be a feeding ground for the pigs, but that was before my time.  Further back in the pasture was the chicken coop.  It was one story, built with the simplest of materials, but warm and sound enough to keep the chickens.  Along the edge of the pasture was an old manure spreader.  Ol’Bossie lived peacefully with it for as long as I can remember without every paying any ‘never-mind’ to its presence.  One spring, Dad put a new Holstein cow out to pasture with Ol’Bossie.  I can’t say these two cows were ever kindred spirits, and judging by the jeers coming from my brothers at milking time, I’d guess this new Holstein was as stubborn-a-cow as I’d ever seen.  Either that or it was the stupidest cow I’d ever seen! Her milk didn’t taste nearly as good after all the running she did while the boys coxed her into the barn. 

Being a farmer’s daughter meant learning life’s harder lessons through the world around us; often from our animals.  One late summer evening after hearing some especially loud jeers coming from the pasture, I ran to find out what was going on.  It was then that I witnessed the high price of stupidity, stubbornness & greed.  While Ol’Bossie was standing amenably in her usual spot by the barn door waiting to be milked, the Holstein was laying down near that old manure spreader.  My brother nudged her with his foot exclaiming “Get Up Boss!” But, there she lay.

 With a sudden wave of reality we realized why she was not moving – not then; not ever.  With five acres of grass on which to feed, this cow evidently preferred the two square feet of grass growing between the hitch and the body of the old manure spreader.  In so doing, this stubborn cow had managed to break its own neck reaching get to the greener grass; astounding all of us into a harsh lesson on greed.

Our next lessons came shortly after.  With the second source of milk gone, Dad knew he needed to salvage its meat. Not able to take the cow to the butcher, we were able to witness, as near as our parents would allow, a complete butchering.  I remember dad’s calm swiftness as he called the neighbor to come down with his pick-up.  Together, they skillfully strung the Holstein up by its heels, attaching it to a plank laid across the two truck toppers some 10’ in the air.  Like a perfect team they silently worked from milking time until dark to salvage what could be on that warm summer evening. Though Mom and Dad tried to keep us ‘shooed away’ from watching we were mesmerized by the butchering process.  Unlike the men, we were not yet hardened to the disgusting smells that arose as they opened up the organs and sliced away its meat.  Life’s hard lessons unfolded before our eyes; financial loss, death, and the new reality of ‘dirty work’.  No one needed to open a text book to teach these lessons.  Neither did we need a sermon about hard work and what it meant to really be a neighbor.  We saw it in action as the two men worked through the setting sun.  There is no more genuine way to learn a lesson of teamwork and diligence than watching the skill of these untrained butchers, doing what needed to be done, working together because life called them to.