OVER MY SHOULDER

When I was very young, I always thought that it would be neat to be able to milk the cows like Dad did. He could make that old milk bucket ring with the those first few squirts of milk, and have a great “head” of foam by the time that he had the bucket half full. I was awed by the way that he could balance on that stool that had only one leg.

The first few years of my life, we had only one or two milk cows around---I suppose that we could not afford more--either to purchase or to feed, yet one could not afford to not have at least one milk cow around, as the family was dependent upon the milk, cream and butter that that one or two milk cows provided.

There were times that the cow would be “staked” on a rope in the yard or in the ditch, to find what little grass that was available. Other times, we had pastures--some pretty small--for them to graze. I recall several different cows over the years, but I particularly recall one big old Holstein cow that we had--Lizza I believe was her name-- that would always find any hole in the old fence, and would end up in the neighbors field. I shall never forget the evening that the neighbor threatened to shot Lizza the next time that she got in their field.

Every morning and evening Dad would take the milk bucket to the barn, perhaps give the cow a coffee can of rations---I remember ground corn --- and milk the cow. He would then bring the milk to the house---strain it through a piece or muslin into a crock, the water separator, or as he acquired more cows, and had more milk, it would be run through the big hand cranked separator.

If the milk was placed in the crock, it would be left over night, and Mom would skim the cream from the milk the next morning. If the milk was placed in the water separator, a little water might be added, it would be left over night so that the cream would rise to the top. The next morning, the milk and water would be drained out the bottom of the separator leaving only the cream which would then be saved in a container.

If the milk was placed in the hand separator, it would be placed in the holding tank on the top, and released into the separator after someone started turning the crank. This machine would separate the cream from the milk, producing the milk out one spout and the cream out another spout------I always wondered how that worked.
I would learn later though that it was not much fun washing the separator and cleaning all of those discs in the separator bowl.

Usually the milk for the house was saved as “whole milk” before it was separated. The whole milk and the cream that was being accumulated, would then be placed in the cave, the cellar, the well house, or hung in the cistern, spring or well, to cool it or to keep it from souring before the next milking. In most cases, the skimmed milk that came from this process was fed to the hogs, or maybe the chickens.

I remember that mom would keep milk (I don’t recall whether it was skimmed or whole milk) in a crock or a container until it would “clabber”, and then she would strain it and make cottage cheese for the table (I don’t remember the entire process, but do remember that it was strained through muslin, and all the liquid was squeezed out---- I also know that we had a lot of cottage cheese)-----It was not until years later, that I really developed a taste for cottage cheese.

There were several uses for the cream---one was to cook with, another was to put on cereal (usually oatmeal or mush), or to put on strawberry shortcake (when we had some), another was to make butter, and finally all the cream that could be saved or accumulated would be sold to the creamy in town. (this little bit of money would be used to buy groceries---or other items of necessity---Often this cream money and money from what ever eggs that could be accumulated was all of the money that was available some weeks.

I still have in our family room, the old butter churn that Mom use. The churn was a large square glass jar (a gallon I believe) with a metal top that had a crank handle attached to a paddle. When the top was screwed onto the square glass jar, the paddle was inside to churn the butter. The cream would then be poured into the jar---maybe a little water added to assist the process--- (perhaps the water was added when the butter was about complete)---and someone would turn the crank until the cream had turned into butter and had collected on the paddle.

After the butter was removed from the churn, a dash of salt was added, and the butter was “molded” into the family’s favorite mold. ----Folks this was real butter, and believe me it was good---particularly when applied to some of Mom’s hot rolls or hot bread with just a little sugar and a dash of cinnamon. I t was also good on pancakes and biscuits.

As I grew older, Dad acquired a few more cows, and I was given the opportunity to assist with that “chore” of milking that had looked so interesting when I was much younger.----not as much fun as it had appeared. One reason was that the cows had to be milked twice each day---regardless of what other activities one had. I can recall a number of times that we would be away from home --- perhaps visiting relatives---get home at 10:00 or 11:00 o’clock and still have to go to the barn and milk the cows. Usually we timed it to be home earlier than that, but it had to be done. Then it did not make any difference how cold or how hot it was, the cows still had to be milked.

As we acquired more cows, we would sell more cream, ---then came the time that we started selling grade “C” milk--- the evening and morning milk would be accumulated into 10 gallon milk cans. The cans would be placed in cold well water, or the “spring” (if there was one) or the refrigerated cooler (after we got electricity in the early 40”s) to cool over night, and the milk truck would pick them up the next morning and take them the the creamery. By this time, we were milking (by hand) anywhere from 8 to 15 cows all of the time.

I can recall walking that quarter of a mile down the road to the south pasture each morning to take the cows to the pasture, and each evening to bring them to the barn. They were “over nighted” in a small pasture by the barn. The cows knew the way and they would almost come in from the pasture alone, but someone had to shut the gate, usually, they were at the gate to come to the barn each evening. Cows seem to know when it is milking time, and will usually be at the gate or at the barn at that time. I doubt that it is the little feed that was given them at milking time.

During the hot weather, the cows would spend a lot of time standing in the ponds or creek to stay cool. Because there was little weed control (except the hoe and cultivator) their tails would pick up a lot of cockle burrs. You have not lived, until you sit down beside an old cow on a hot humid evening with flies everywhere---(those small flies and those big horse flies loved to eat on an old cow)----start to milk and have that wet, soggy, burr laden tail swat you up the side of the head. Yes it does hurt, but mostly it makes you mad----not the cow’s fault---not Dad’s fault---not your fault----just part of milking.

Then sometimes you would have the milk bucked about one half full, and the cow stomping at flies would kick the bucket over and spill the milk, or worse yet set their foot in the bucket of milk-----then there was the decision on whether or not it was sanitary to keep the milk or to dump it in the hog trough. I always preferred to hold the bucket tightly clasp between my knees, as I at least had an opportunity to avoid the kicked over bucket and the foot in the bucket.

Cold weather milking was about as bad---usually there were not burrs in the tail, but often in 12 to 15 degree weather (or colder), one would have to contend with snow and ice in getting to the barn-- --someone would have to throw hay down from the hay mow, and worst of all some of the cows teats would be cracked and sore from the cold weather daily milkings-----this often lead to the same outcome as described above. (Dad always accused me of trying to milk with my gloves on----I did try, but it was not effective.)

All of this while you are precariously balanced on a one legged stool. (some people used a three legged stool, but I found that if a cow kicked, you had a better chance of “getting away” on a one legged stool)---besides, just anyone can nail one piece of 2 X 4 on top of another and make a stool---and it takes talent to make a three legged stool.

There are many stories that I would tell ---the milk fights with my brothers---squirting milk to the cats while milking--- grinding feed ---kickers for the cow that kicks ---breaking a heifer to milk---bucket feeding calves----being “put over the fence” by a heifer with a new calf---looking in the timber for a new calf etc, but space and time does not permit that all of these be told at the time.

In general, hand milking was not all that bad---I can recall how pleased that Mom and Dad were when the cream or milk check arrived--and that made the inconvenience worth a lot----however, I am glad that I do not have to look at going to the barn this evening and milking 8 or 10 old cows.