I have a great admiration for the farmers who work the land and produce much of our daily food, and I understand that farming has changed dramatically in the past 50 years and has had to.
There are fewer generational farming families prepared to continue the family tradition, as in the past, and technological advances in farming machinery now allow an increasingly smaller workforce to farm huge agricultural acreages. In my opinion this reduced number of farmers have an even greater importance now as they continue to feed us in spite of the increased number of regulations that bureaucrats, with no idea about who a farmer actually is and does, continue to impose on them.
For myself personally, whilst much of this progress is necessary some of its unintended consequences are less easy to live with!
I cannot recall what the circumstances were, but some months ago I was interested in a story regarding a dairy herd and then, on reading it, I was horrified. Apparently, the herd lived inside and never experienced being out in the fields. I still can’t wrap my head around that being good farming, certainly not for the dairy herd.
So much for ‘house cows’ in 2024.
First, I must state that I am not, and have never have been, a real farmer. I loved their company and looked forward to frequent days at the local farmers auctions. Both farmers and sailors share an affinity. Whilst they listen to weather forecasts, they have little faith in the forecasters and in both cases every workday begins with first going outside, looking at the sky, and seeing what the day has brought. Then, and only then, can they plan their day’s activities.
In a former life in North Wales, in the UK, my then-wife and I believed it would be a great idea to show our three sons where much of their food comes from, so when the opportunity arose for us to buy a seven-acre smallholding we thought it too good to be true.
We never tried chickens, but raised a couple of pigs, then tried a few sheep, my eldest son’s idea. One of the highlights of that phase was when one of his ewes had a difficult time giving birth and my hands were just too big to assist, he, at around 10 years of age, helped her twins into the world.
I suppose what remains as my best memory of this ‘pretend’ farming was when we bought in-calf heifers, first-time moms, tended to them until they calved, then let them do the job of weaning their own offspring.
For reasons outlined above there are always more negative outcomes for these creatures than positives. Sad, but true. If we demand the animal products on our tables that farmers produce, then we have no moral right to criticize some of the methods that they adopt.
And finally, to ‘house cows’.
I don’t recall when or why we bought Buttercup. She was an in-calf heifer, but I cannot recall her calf and we did not buy her for her looks. She was a Jersey cross Fresian, but looked all-Jersey to us.
I hand-milked her twice a day for about two years, and still remember the incredible, almost gold colour of her milk, always with a thick creamy top.
Quite frankly compared to the white, insipid milk we bought, it seemed quite intimidating.That was until you tasted it.
We couldn’t sell it even if we wanted to, and it wasn’t pasteurized, just filtered through a fine cheesecloth and stored in the kitchen fridge.
But it was the hand-milking that made it special.
Buttercup was a kind milker and had no problem with being milked. But occasionally, to keep her human in line, just as I had almost finished, she would gently lift a back leg and empty the pail onto the floor! It was never a problem as we could barely keep up with what she produced, but I would almost swear that on those occasions she had a smile on her face.
It was almost surreal. I’d sit on my milking stool, rest my head on her flank and, with very little effort, gently squeeze that liquid gold into the pail, one of the most basic and simple interactions between two different species. So peaceful that at times I could almost go to sleep.
We all enjoyed her milk, and when our sons had friends call they also enjoyed her milk. We bred German Shepherds at the time and those puppies, and their moms and dads, all had it as part of their diet.
So sad to know that there is little place left for ‘house cows’ in our present world.
