Finding the Right Cow
My grandpa grew up on a farm in the South. When I was a little girl I asked him what it was like. He said it was hard work and dirty. I asked him about getting milk from a cow and he laughed saying, “Do you know how many germs are in that milk?” When I was a little older, probably studying the Great Depression in elementary school, I asked him “What did you do during the Great Depression Grandpa?” He said, “Well, we all went back to the farms!” In my child’s mind I had an “A-ha!” moment. Even as a child, studying about the Great Depression and the World Wars had me very worried that it could happen again. Ever since that time I had wanted to live on a farm. Now I do, however small it is.
I had a grandmother on the other side of my family, who also grew up in the South. She lived in a little brick house on a large lot. Her entire backyard was a garden. I loved walking through that garden. I had never seen anything like it, but hopefully the garden I am planting out now will rival her garden. If the insects and the heat don’t kill me, I plan on sitting in that garden early in the morning with a cup of tea. Just to soak it all in. Just to revel in the miracle of a seed growing into a large plant with edible things hanging off of it.
With all these romantic notions in my head since childhood, it’s no wonder I set out to do what I’m doing now. I had to grow up though, and work for a living, and experience all that city life offered before I got to a place where I could choose this lifestyle as my full-time activity. It’s not for the faint of heart. If you need your manicures, hair appointments, foot massages, lattes, vacations, and gourmet dinners out on a regular basis, this isn’t for you. Why not? Because you’re going to break a nail, your hands will crack and the dirt can become embedded unless you wear the right gloves for the job, your hair will be smashed under a hat and you’ll sweat like it’s the fourth of July. Your feet will be crammed into a variety of shoes – the muck boots, the cowboy boots, the garden clogs, the tennis shoes, the house shoes, etc., because you will be tracking all manner of evil wherever you go. You have to change shoes often for biosecurity reasons.
I started classifying shoes by activity type and comfort rather than looks or colors. I don’t want fresh cow manure in my garden, right? And your feet will stink and there will be spiders and bugs and snakes, sometimes in your shoes if you’re not careful. You’ll wish you had a spa tub and a martini after mucking out the barn. What’s for dinner? That’s where it gets exciting if you have time or energy to cook! Farm fresh everything: eggs, steaks, bacon, chicken, fresh produce, fresh-churned ice cream and apple pie y’all. Mmmm.
But wait. Let’s back up and start at the beginning of how I ended up with a dairy cow. First I got chickens, lots of them – “the gateway drug to homesteading”. That required hen house(s) and fencing modifications. Then I got goats and that required more fencing modifications and gates and a shelter. I already had the dogs! In the interest of self-sufficiency, I had this idea, as many of us here do, that I could “close the gate” and not need to go outside the farm, unless dire circumstances required it. Dairy was a distinct need (and later beef from offspring), not to mention large gardens. And the only way to have dairy is to get a bred or lactating cow. But, not just any old cow. I needed a cow with a sweet disposition, who could be led around by a halter and lead rope, who looked poetic on the landscape, who “specialized” in rich, creamy, milk. Ha, ha, ha.Continue reading“My Newbie Experience Buying a Milk Cow – Part 1, by SaraSue”