Family Gets Real Kick From Cow

A story here has recently grabbed our attention. Well beneath the media radar, it resonates with us, given our mid-west country roots and recall of a simpler life. The heading might run: Family Gets Real Kick From Cow, and though the full story resists telling in sound bytes we'd like to convey some of it to you.

It begins with wanting milk on the table, whole cow's milk with all the enzymes and nothing added. It's not that Tricia, the mom, objects to the convenience of her local Cumberland Farm store, or its prices. Raw milk, "real milk" is just not on the shelf. So Tricia did what she had to (as did Flora and I, until it got to be too much), that is, drive to the nearest supplier. Of course, you might live across the street from a dairy farm today and have no more access to milk from its cows than someone living in a city in another time zone.

Would a family cow be the solution? Tricia took the Family Cow Workshop in CT, offering hands-on experience. She spent months pondering, figuring "cost effectiveness" with Terry (the "breadwinner") and running it by Will (at 5, a hot prospect in the farm system).

Suddenly, this fall, Tricia's supplier, Katia, announced she would be leaving for greener pastures in NY state. This presented a crisis - in terms of lifestyle and direction. Unlike Rosa Parks' decision to take the seat on the bus there would be no political fallout, but it was nonetheless scary.

Tricia made the plunge. Just before Thanksgiving, Pepita, a fully grown, 800 lb. Jersey came home to take her place in the manger and be part of the family - one with plenty of professional background but no history of farm wife or husbandry in the record. This would mark a new chapter - life after cow (a.c.).

Day 1 proved eventful. Pepita expressed herself right off by kicking over the bucket, losing half that day's milk. (Mercifully, her routine calls for but one milking per day, every day.) Terry was summoned from his home-office computer station to lend his muscle. Taking Pepita "by the horns" literally was not an option; Pepita, designed for safety, was dehorned. She yielded a half gallon of rich milk for the hour's labor.

Day 2 followed hard on the day before. Terry happened to be away, leaving Tricia and Will. At 5:30 Will arose, announcing he "felt an unbelievable connection with this cow." No time to be a slug-a-bed! 8:30 milking followed a hearty farmer's breakfast - well, I was told my grandpa always had the entire herd milked and out to pasture before breakfast! But then, those were "cash cows" and that was Wisconsin, "America?s Dairyland". This is now. Tricia placed a holding bucket behind her to be safe, then sat down to milk. Pepita waited until the holding bucket was nearly full, and then kicked Tricia. Tricia fell into the bucket of warm milk; I didn't ask what part of her fell into the bucket.

Day 3 called for drastic measures, i.e., outside help. Katia did her milking chores and drove the half hour's distance, just as I suppose one's neighbor would have in an earlier day. Katia applied her rope technique for softening an insurgent cow. It was effective without being harsh or mean to the cow. The day was a success.

Well, as you've guessed - the drama doesn't end here, Pepita being who she is - her own mind, true to her calling, wild as she wills. Much could happen. I think of Will, and I think of Flora, still fit at 98, at opposite ends of the cycle. Much of Flora's early life sounds wonderful as well, and most inconvenient. Much has happened since.

And now? Has now truly gotten older, or less wonderful - for any of us? Perhaps, even now much can happen, if we allow it. May the season, and the year to come, bring you much joy, peace, and happiness.