Well I’ve finally gotten into a milking routine that doesn’t leave me in tears. Annie, my heifer that I’m milking for the first time, can kick! And I mean she can kick.
Maggie kicks, but it’s always just been at her udder or at the bucket at a slow pace. A “hey I’m done standing here hurry it up” kind of kick.
But Annie? She kicks straight out with an “I want to leave now don’t touch me” kick. And after that first kick? I was terrified to milk her. I could just imagine that hoof making contact–with me!
Animals are pretty good at sensing fear, so it was just a downward spiral. She would just move her leg a but and I would jump in terror.
My step-dad could milk her, and she would stay pretty still, but I couldn’t. She knew I was afraid. It was so bad I was calling for help twice a day. My poor parents probably dreaded milking time!
But thankfully, things have improved over the last month, and I am back to milking solo. My step-dad took one of the anti-kick devices from when my parents had the dairy farm, and cut it down to fit a Dexter. With it, Annie got used to being milked without kicking, and I slowly got over my fears. Praise the Lord!
And now that my long intro is out of the way, I’ll get on with the rest of my story. That is if you are still hanging around.
I recently let the cows out on the pasture. As they adjust to eating the freshly growing grass, their bodies go through some changes. Their poop becomes very runny–think diarreah.
And this afternoon, Simon and I got splattered by some of that loose poo hitting the concrete of the milking parlor. When runny poop hits concrete–it’s not pretty!
But the milking still had to be done (though at this point it’s getting dumped to the cats instead of going into the fridge), so what can we do? Think happy thoughts!
When life gives you cow poo, try to think of other things. Sing a song, talk to a cow. Don’t wallow in the muck and let your thoughts go down he drain as well. Remember that God is still in control, and that it will be ok.
Then finish the chores and enjoy your shower!
And since I don’t want to share a picture of cow poop, I’ll leave you with one of my happy thoughts–3 month old Brynna Ruth!