Milking Cows

One of my childhood tasks that I really enjoyed was milking cows. From the time I was born until the time I went to college my parents always had at least two cows. We had them to provide milk for our families-and to produce calves. We raised the calves until they weighed a couple hundred pounds and then sold them off to be butchered. But the main reason we had cows was so that they could provide us with daily milk.

My job was to milk them in the evening. During the day the cows roamed in our pasture while the calves were fenced into a small corral. Around sunset the cows were brought into a small fenced-in area between the barn and the chicken coops. The calves were brought to their mothers and were allowed to suckle milk for a while. Then they were roped off and tied away from their mothers. I would take my milk bucket, a very low small stool and get down (always on the right side of the cow) and did the milking. I remember that I always laid my head up against the side of the cow. That felt good and made the whole process a relaxing one. When the milk had been drained from the cow’s udder the calves were released and they often tried to get a bit more milk from the cows.

Then the milk was taken into our home. We always had a mechanical milk separator. As its name indicates this rotary hand-turned little machine separated the cream from the milk, with the cream coming out one spigot and the whey the other. The whey was fed to our pets. The cream was kept for baking, cooking, adding to coffee and for making butter. I always made sure that somewhere in this whole process I drank a goodly portion of the fresh milk. It was always best if the milk was still warm coming only minutes before from the cow’s udder. No thought of any pasteurizing ever entered into consideration.

Something that happened only once or twice brings back very pleasant memories. It was in the middle of the day and Mom decided it would be a special treat to just stop everything else we were doing and make a gallon of home made ice cream. I was given a bucket and told to go out in to the pasture, go up to the cow and milk it of the required amount. My recollection is that Mother made the custard for the ice cream without boiling or heating it. The ice cream was perfect!

I find it interesting that in my adult years I never drink milk. I honestly now cannot recall the last time I drank a glass of milk. Our kids have other memories. Four of the five were born in Hong Kong, not a place at which I went out to milk cows. Getting fresh milk there was a challenge and we almost never had any. Instead all milk was from powder. The kids got used to that and liked it. When we went home on leave we stopped in Japan. At breakfast they asked for and each was served milk. They took a taste, made a face and said, “This stuff tastes funny. We don’t like it!” It was their first experience with fresh cow’s milk.

I wonder if anybody around Walburg, Texas still milks cows by hand. If not they are missing a good experience.