There are kids in society today who have no idea that milk comes from anywhere but a carton from the grocery store. They might be amazed to know that this is where it all starts. Inga has definitely amped up production, and she came walking spraddle-legged down to the barn when it was her turn yesterday. She has tiny teats, making the job very difficult when her bag is taut and there's nothing to grip. For the record, it took eight hundred thirty-one squeezes to milk her out.
The girls look like Marilyn Monroe when they get up on the stand, and Grandma Moses when they leave. It's enough to give a girl a complex! However, since raw milk weighs approximately 8.6 pounds per gallon, I rather imagine all they feel is relief. By the time I've finished with the four milkers (they're not all as generous nor as difficult as Inga), my hands are starting to go numb so I feel a sense of relief when the job is done, too.
This is what was in the bag...warm, frothy milk. I use a two-gallon bucket, and this was Inga's contribution yesterday. The spatters are not because I'm messy, but because those tiny teats are nondirectional until the pressure is off. My leg is on her right side and gets equally sprayed. So much for wearing clean bibbies to the barn.
There is a happy ending to yesterday's entry. Pearl, after getting some nourishment, seems to have rallied. She stayed upstairs all day, but was having residual effects from whatever caused her to be sick, very quiet, content to stay in, and sleeping most of the day. Bessie and Frank had to nose her all over and reassure themselves that she was okay, and then let her be to get some rest. I had been so worried, as it is common for a dying cat to go to a dark place alone to die, and the thought of losing Pearl...well. Just as happily, Lucky came tumbling down the ramp when I opened the hen house in the morning, joining the flock for breakfast al fresco. Chickens are not known for long-term memory, but she stayed in the pen yesterday.
I made the run in to town in the afternoon (had to buy new shoes) and, ta da!, I saw a dogwood in bloom. Now we'll see if the legend holds true about one more snow in our future.
Oh...that tulip that was so pretty? It's gone now. Guess it wasn't too froo-froo after all.
1 comment:
Wow, rather than giving us a wonderful meal of "Farview Blog" today, you put out a whole Thanksgiving Feast with which to nourish our minds and our souls - education, pictures, and a good dessert of "all's well!" Couldn't get any better than that (except that an actual meal of Farview Blog doesn't sound appetizing ...kind of like something in an English Pub??) Thanks!
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