1.18.26
The other morning, I woke up in tears. As I lay there feeling the dampness on my cheek and pillow, I asked myself how I could go on. Reaching for the light switch and my glasses, the first thing that came into focus was the picture of my dearest that sits on my bedside table. His face, lit by the lamp’s glow, enhanced the ray of sunshine that warmed his smile in the picture. As I said, “Good morning, matey,” and gently touched his face behind the glass, I knew it would be alright, I could go on.
This morning ritual, for yes, it has become a ritual, is what helps me get out of bed each morning to face the day. I know Bonnie will be in the living room waiting for me to open the front door to let her go outside, my milk cow Lady will soon be standing at her paddock gate, eager for her morning grain at milking time. These little things that are part of my morning routine keep me going and I am grateful for them.
I have the fire lit in the woodstove and a cup of tea sits by my side, the steam rising in little whorls as the air in the living room is still a tad chilly. Sitting here, I listen to the crackle of the wood in the stove and slowly the heat from the flames reaches me. I have so much to be grateful for. A warm, cozy home, plenty of food to eat, a good cup of strong Yorkshire tea at my side, a loving dog at my feet and the quiet and solitude of the farm surrounding me. Yes, I have much to be grateful for.
A week or so ago, I had pretty much made up my mind that my young milk cow Lady needed to find a new home. One is never too old to learn a new lesson in life or in this case, to be reminded of a lesson which should have been well learned but in a moment of weakness was casually dismissed. I cannot recall how many times I have reminded myself not to commit to purchasing an animal just by looking at pictures. It always comes back to bite me in the bottom. Such is the case with Lady.
The advertisement was for a young cow, due to calve her second baby in August. She looked pretty close to what I was looking for when searching for a replacement milk cow now that Lass is in full retirement. Although not the Brown Swiss Jersey cross, I would have liked to have found – Lady is a Jersey Holstein cross – I quite liked the looks of her in the pictures her young owner sent us. She was apparently a heavy milker for a young cow, supposedly giving 3 to 4 gallons a day, an easy keeper, well mannered etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. So, after consulting with Darrell, we decided to buy her and as her owners lived way down near the Nevada border and were willing to meet us in Burns with the cow on the Fourth of July, the deal was done.
Long story slightly shortened, Lady was brought home despite her not at all looking like she would drop a calf within a month. As it was, that turned out to be providential as I was still dealing with a dicky heart in August. Thankfully she did not calve in September as I would not have been up to milking due to the restrictions placed on me after having my pacer installed. October, well, that was not a good month at all as I am sure you can imagine, and November was even worse. Fate certainly knew what she was doing, as it was December 20th when Lady finally dropped her wee little calf. An early Christmas present that kept me busy and helped me through a very rough few days.
Once the colostrum had cleared from Lady’s milk, I knew my customers would be looking forward to resuming their consumption of fresh, wholesome milk! Alas, despite the best of feed consisting of excellent orchard grass hay topped off with prime quality alfalfa and a nice bit of grain, I found myself getting a mere gallon or so of milk a day from her. Since her calf is a wee little chap, I knew he was too small and far too young as yet to be taking a large amount of milk, and she was not holding up her milk supply from me which some cows will do. No, she was just not producing what I had been given the impression she would.
Over the next couple of weeks, I would head out to milk in the morning, hoping to see an improvement in Lady’s milk offering. Nope. Very little change. Now a cow giving a gallon or gallon and a half a day might be perfect for a family just wanting good, wholesome milk for their kitchen table, but I needed more. To me, a girl must give at least two and a half to three gallons or more a day to make her stay on the farm worthwhile. Yes, I know, that sounds very commercial of me, but this is and always has been, a working farm. Hence my decision to sell her. That would leave me without a cow in milk as I am trying to dry up my Heidi girl, since she has been giving me milk for over a year now!
After placing an announcement on the computer that Lady was for sale, I immediately had numerous enquiries about her. I would not have a problem finding her a new home. Then, I changed my mind.
I cannot recall how many times in the past when I have been trying to make a decision about this or that in regard to the farm, I have turned to my dearest Darrell to help me decide. For you see, in most matters concerning the livestock on the farm such as the raising of animals for butcher, the keeping of breeding stock be it cows or pigs, has always fallen primarily to me. When I decided it was time to sell our sows and boar and stop raising pigs from birth to butcher, Darrell knew it was a decision I had to make. He was my sounding board. What was most important to him was that I did what would make me happy and he knew I would come to the right decision.
Every day I talk to my dearest. I tell him my worries; I share my doubts and concerns. He is still my sounding board. The other day, driving down to the post office, I glanced at his picture which I have taped to my sun visor, and talking out loud – well, moaning and groaning more like! – told him my dilemma about Lady. How I was so disappointed in her production, how I felt bad because I let myself be taken advantage of. All the way down the hill I belaboured the fact I had been stupid in once again trusting people too much when I should know better.
After picking up the post, I resumed my one-sided conversation as I headed back home. Turning into our driveway I found the tears starting to fall. Stopping the truck I just let myself sob, glancing at the empty seat beside me. How I wanted to see my dearest sitting there, reaching out a hand to hold mine. How I wanted to hear him say those words of encouragement I now know I so often took for granted. “You decide Rose, she’s your cow, you do whatever makes you happy, even if she is not giving you what you expect, that is okay. If you want her, keep her.”
Wiping away the tears, I restarted the truck and headed home. Inside me, I felt that warm feeling in my belly, that old feeling I would get after struggling with a tough decision and coming to a good conclusion, a right conclusion, after talking it over with my dearest. The advertisement was taken down, my apologies given to the folks who were interested in her, for I was going to keep my cow.
The next morning when I went down to milk Lady, she gave me one and three-quarter gallons of lovely milk. The following day a tad more. Smiling to myself as I washed my milker, I thanked my dearest for once again guiding me. Instead of feeling wrong footed by those who sold me the cow, I found myself being reminded to be grateful not grudgeful. Grateful for the milk she is giving me but most of all grateful for knowing my dearest is still there with me, a steady, solid Rock of Gibraltar beside me. My sounding board still.
