More on my weekend on the farm--part II
WASHINGTON COUNTY, NY--where my friend's farm is located.
After we ate some pizza that I had bought--warmed over in her microwave, my friend took me to her partner's milking barn. The views from the barn lot by the way--amazing. Down the hill was the broad upper Hudson river, in the not so far distance, was the foothills of the southern Adirondack mountains--with the orange halogen lights high atop Mount McGregor--a low security state prison..and the historic former summer holiday home of U.S. President Ulyses S. Grant--to the left, and the bright, bright lights of West Mountain Ski Area in West Glens Falls, directly in front. In the fading colbalt and orange tinged winter dusk, it was a lovely sight. The view in the daylight is no less lovely, either.
Yes, I walked in cow poo...but the really fresh stuff was easily avoided-- mostly it was trampled down and frozen, or had wood shavings on top of it...you just ignore it and get on with it--that's what they make rubber wellies for, after all. Being winter, the smell wasn't much at all, really.
So, after I was introduced to the 10 day old calf--they don't keep the bull calves, unless intending to either use them for breeding, or to turn them into steers for meat--I was introduced to Simon the bull--who was really very sweet and gentle. Then I met a cow due to calve any day...didn't happen while I was there. Then, I was taken out into the field, and introduced to the bulk of the herd--the milkers, 23 of them...one just went dry, or it would have been 24.
When we went back into the room with the milk tank, my friend got a call on her mobile from her boyfriend/partner, that the milker was down sick, and her partner couldn't get away from his job. So...she had to milk the herd...with only me to help. My friend told me she'd only done it a few times...but, we got on with it--took three hours, but we got her done...well, my friend did 98 percent of the work, mostly I watched...but I did help "dip" teats--both before and after milking, each cows four teats have to be "dipped," using a special device, with iodine or some other solution, for obvious reasons. Then...it's hooked up to the milking machine...with is four suction tubes, one hooked up to each teat. That was cool! I only got to do two cows, but I liked it.
The cows know the routine. The milking palor is a narrow concrete pit, lined on two sides, above it, by cattle stanchions...many palors have 6 per side, but my friend's farm had 4. The cows come in single file, through two doors from the main barn, into palor. The walk to the stanchions, and back in, bums facing the 'pit'. The milking machine is started--a rather loud pump, sounding a like a lawnmower through a megaphone. When combined with a portable multi-fuel diesel flame heater---which makes a low roaring noise like a furnace--it can get a bit hard to hear in there. But the heater makes it a lot more comfy to do one's work when it's minus 10 or 15 C, out there!
In the pit, the farmer has a milking machine attached under each stanchion. After one dips the teats, one must milk each teat once by hand, to check on the milk--if there are any lumps in it, it might indicate that cow has an infection called "mastitis." After checking each teat, the farmer then places the suction tubes on the cow. Under the suction cups, is the "claw," which shows you the milk coming out--so you can tell when a cow is "done"--tho' most good dairymen can merely tell by feeling a cow's bag, whether she's empty or not. The hoses must be kept straight, with is done with a little swing out bar-hanger contraption.
When the cows are done, and they get their teats dipped again, a gate is opened--and an outside door as well, and the cows just amble outside on their own, back to the pasture.
When done milking, the farmer must then wash down the milking area throughly with hot soapy water from a hose, and scrape away all the poo and other lovely stuff. Then, it's off to disinfect the milk pipes.
After that was done, I helped my friend grain the cattle--the cattle have special concrete troughs--called "bunkers," which you walk along with buckets and pour grain into. The grain is fine and lightweight, so this isn't so hard---except that it was dark, and the ground around a farm in winter I found, is very uneven--and frozen, and full of lumps of mud, ice, hard snow and frozen manure.
My friend's partner's family merely had what's known as a "hobby" farm or dairy--those running under 40 head of cattle.
Sunday, she took me back to the barn to watch her partner finish off the milking, then later we went into the nearby town of Argyle, to a small shop there to get some bread, and on the way, we visited one of her neighbour's, who has a beautiful horse farm--thoroughbred and standardbred (harness race horses) boarding and training...and she...with really consulting me, out of the blue asked the man if I could have a job. In a way, that would be lovely--free apartment (which isn't finished yet) in the barn, working with horses...plenty of time to write in my off hours--as outside of the horses, I'd have the place pretty much to myself...and I'd keep my cats--but...I hurt my back last time I worked with horses, and almost never walked again...slipped disc and a pinched nerve...also, I'm 18 years older and totally out of shape, and my health is rubbish...I may sometimes act fine, and even look fine, to some people--but really, there's been times of late, when I've been dizzy, had chest pains and nearly passed out a few times...in short, I'm not dying--not even seriously ill yet--but neither am I "fine."
After all the near-brushes with homelessnes--and people with close friends and/or family have NO CLUE what it's like to be alone and facing living on the streets..."can't you get state housing?" NO, I CAN'T--there's a two to five year wait list..even with new public housing going up in this city...and also they don't allow pets in public housing, unless you are a senior--and then only ONE. The suggestions are appreciated, but I hate hearing them, for when I say, no...people think I'm being unassertive or negative...when all I'm being is REALISTIC. There's not enough cheap housing, and that's that.
Anyway, on the way back, we stopped at another friend's place--this time a full-time commerical dairy, with over 100 cattle--run very differently from the hobby farm--here the cows were housed in free stalls---liked up in a barn aisle with only a stanchion hanging from the ceiling holding them in place. There's a narrow concrete trough under the cow's bums, with a conveyor belt down in it, that the cows poo into, that moves the..stuff outside to a waiting manure spreader. This farmer doesn't use a palor. Instead of the cows coming to him--he (and his herdsmen) go to the cows, with portable milkers--with hoses that can be easily attached to a stainless steel pipeline up overhead. The farmers squat down and attach the milker to the cows--this operation takes longer and is harder on the back than a palor operation, but is much more practical for larger herds.
We got to her home, hung out for a while as my friend had house chores to do--and her partner's horse, and more cattle around their house--which was down the hill from the milking barn--to see to. They have a couple of hundred acres of land. So, leaving, my friend noticed one of the cows--Blossom? Blossom had knocked down the fence near the road, so we got out and waded through the snow--the snow had been piled on top of the fence, sort of like an avalanche, and we had to dig out the wire so the cows wouldn't get out...so I didn't get back to the city until late..and then had her drop me at a supermarket, so I could get the groceries I didn't have time to get on Friday.
I'm tired and sore--but I really had a good time...am sad about the pics though--no recent pics of me at all, and no pics of me will ever be seen now, milking my first cow, or getting licked by one. No one will see the cute calf, or the bull, or the horse, or all the pretty cows, and lovely scenery. 
Damn Disney and their rubbish camera--and these are sold to wee kids, which really makes it disgusting.
