(Editor's Note: This article was originally published on January 19, 2008. Your comments are welcome, but please be aware that authors of previously published articles may not be able to respond to your questions.)
One night a month, we test milk. We weigh each cow’s milk, take a sample, weigh the cows that have recently calved and fill out sheets recording births, deaths, cows that have left the herd and any other information relevant to milk production.
There are two ways that you can accomplish this: have a milk tester come to the barn to do the weighing and sampling or, you can do as we now do and do it all owner/sampler. The tester drops off the apparatus that weighs the milk as it goes from cow to pipeline and a box of sample jars numbered (in our case) from one to 50 with a couple of spares and one for a tank sample when milking is finished. When he returns, he puts all of the information into a computer program that spits out each cow’s daily production, previous daily production, percentage of deviation from one to the other, days in milk, projected yearly production, mature equivalent (what this cow is expected to produce in a year as a mature cow based on her current production), relative value (the percentage of this month’s milk weight compared to the previous month’s milk weight), the lactation the cow is in (how many years she has milked), and her reproductive status: is she bred, just fresh (having recently had a calf), dry (preparing to have a calf within the next six weeks) or in need of being bred. In about a week, we receive a packet of reports giving more detailed information concerning where each cow stands relative to her past production and the results of the tested samples listing the percentages of milk fat (our herd averages 3.8%), milk protein (3.1%) and a host of information to help us in making decisions about which cows stay, which leave the herd, whose calf to keep, whose to sell.
This, of course, leads us to the cows as individuals. Let me first make very clear that our cows are not seen as family members or pets, but on the other hand, neither do we see them as strictly organic milk factories. Most farmers walk a fine line in the understanding of their animals and the position they occupy. We raise all of our own replacements, keeping the calves from the cows whose production levels give the best percentage of income over production costs. This is not always the cow who has given the most.
I don’t remember a time when cows didn’t play a part in my life. I grew up on a small dairy farm that was run by my parents and grandparents. We had a Holstein herd, big black and white cows who grazed below the dirt road in pastures that stretched along the edge of the swamp during the day and up on the side hill above the barn after evening chores. There were cows in that herd that I still recall: The cow that our artificial insemination cooperative wanted a bull out of who had only heifer calves; the black witch who kicked everyone that went near her and kicked herself right out of the barn to the Tuesday cattle auction; the big, gentle cow who had a hormone imbalance and grew until she was too big for any of the stalls; and Speckles, a cow with a jaunty attitude toward life who let us ride her back to the barn, acting like a cow pony and herding the other cows. I should say here that, unless you are young and foolish, I don’t recommend riding cows. First, they have bony, peaky backs that weren’t made for a rider’s comfort and second, they don’t take direction well, often meandering off to browse through some particularly tempting clover.
Our own herd has had its share of memorable animals. We bought eight cows and 12 springing (close to freshening) heifers from Stan’s dad to start our herd. Among them was a big old cow we named Dobken who was the lead cow. She was a short, wide cow with an enormous udder and an equal amount of attitude. We also purchased a black heifer, Blackie, who had a bit of attitude all her own and, as it turned out, was Dobken’s daughter. When Blackie was close to calving, sh